Jin Shuren watched from the desk, hands still clasped behind his back, his posture perfectly composed, yet his eyes betrayed a quiet tension.
He paused only when a box of dresses arrived, soft fabrics folded meticulously, the faint scent of lavender he had applied lingering even now. He inspected them briefly, running his fingers lightly over the hems, imagining Yueyao's small hands brushing the material, imagining the comfort it might bring her.
"Lay them here," he instructed softly, pointing toward the master bedroom. "Do not rush it. Every fold, every placement matters. She must occupy a room that embraces her, not overwhelms her."
As the staff worked, Jin Shuren moved over to the master bedroom at the wardrobe, selecting a few of the garments he had long hoped she would one day wear.
He handled them as though he was holding some fragile glass, each piece a symbol of his care, each stitch infused with his silent wish for her well-being.
