Courtyard House: I Have Countless Bodyguards

In the center of the living room, with their backs to the giant marble fireplace burning fiercely, two people were sitting in two high-backed velvet sofas facing each other.

They did not speak or read; they simply sat quietly, like two frozen statues, blending into the room's rich historical atmosphere.

Hearing footsteps, the two of them simultaneously raised their heads, their gazes shooting towards the door like searchlights, landing precisely and instantly on Isabel, who was being subtly protected by Emily and Liu Jianguo.

More accurately, it landed on her high, protruding belly, which even her loose coat couldn't completely conceal.

Time seemed to stretch out and freeze in that instant. Only the flickering of the fireplace flames remained in the living room.

Count Cavendish, Isabel's father, sat regally on the main sofa.

His face was stern, his features as sharp as if carved from rock, and his gray hair was perfectly styled.

His gaze lingered on his daughter's belly for a full three seconds, devoid of any warmth, only a heavy scrutiny and a suppressed, impending storm.

Then, his thin lips moved slightly, his voice dry and steady, yet carrying immense weight, crashing into the silence as he spoke:

"I'm back."

After uttering those three words, he seemed to have completed a ritual, and his gaze slowly shifted to Liu Jianguo beside Isabel.

His gaze became sharper and deeper, like a scalpel, trying to dissect all the pretenses of the Eastern man before him.

He nodded slightly, using standard social politeness, but his tone lacked any of the concern one would expect from someone who had "worked hard"; instead, it was merely a cold, distant politeness as he said:

"Mr. Liu, you've come all this way, thank you for your hard work."

Every word seemed to have been precisely measured before it was uttered.

Almost as soon as the Marquis finished speaking, Countess Margaret Cavendish, Isabel's mother, who was sitting on the side sofa, stood up.

She was thinner than her daughter remembered, wearing a serene dark green velvet dress, with a pearl necklace around her neck gleaming with a warm luster.

She walked briskly toward Isabel, opened her arms, and gently hugged her daughter.

The hug wasn't tight; it was even a little stiff. It carried the excitement of a long-awaited reunion, but also an indescribable heartache, helplessness, and deep worry.

She patted her daughter's back gently twice, then let go.

She gazed at her daughter's face, her emerald eyes, so similar to Isabel's, swirling with emotion—

There was heartache, blame, worry, and even more exhaustion and a sense of bewilderment.

The way she looked at Liu Jianguo was far more complicated than how she looked at her husband.

It contained the proper etiquette expected of a host, and the necessary scrutiny that one had to make when facing someone important to their daughter.

There is incomprehension and heartache over her daughter's choice, and perhaps also a deep concern as a mother for her daughter's future.

All these emotions intertwined and ultimately culminated in a polite-sounding statement.

Yet it contained a thousand words of greeting:

"Mr. Liu, welcome to the Cavendish family."

Her voice was soft, but every word seemed to have been carefully chosen.

Liu Jianguo remained calm, returning the Marquis's scrutinizing gaze with a composed look and a slight nod in acknowledgment.

He then turned to the Countess, his attitude neither humble nor arrogant, but rather one of composed composure.

"Thank you for your welcome, madam. I apologize for the intrusion and for disturbing you."

His response was concise and appropriate, accepting the welcome while also acknowledging that he had come uninvited.

The meeting struck a perfect balance between being a courtesy visit and a necessary meeting to resolve a given fact.

Liu Jianguo's mind is as clear as a mirror.

Given the traditional aristocratic values ​​of the Cavendish family, the fact that they didn't immediately turn him away from the family in the face of such a "scandal" as their daughter's unmarried pregnancy with an unknown Asian man would be a testament to their respectable upbringing.

The fact that there was no immediate outburst of fierce accusations was already an extreme act of restraint, a result of centuries of etiquette and upbringing forcibly suppressing instinctive emotions and anger.

This cold and restrained reception was the best possible start he could have anticipated.

What he needs to do is stabilize the situation and find a turning point within this fragile framework of etiquette.

Just then, Emily's clear voice broke the suffocating silence like a pebble thrown into a still lake.

A bright, even slightly carefree smile spread across her face. She skipped over to her parents and said in a light, girlish tone, with a touch of girlish naiveté:

"Dad, Mom! Look, I came back with my sister this time! Did you miss me?"

She tried to soften the frozen atmosphere by adopting the familiar, pampered daughter persona, temporarily diverting attention away from her sister.

Countess Margaret's attention was indeed drawn somewhat to her youngest daughter.

The look in her eyes as she gazed at Emily was tinged with worry, but even more so with direct affection.

She reached out and gently touched Emily's cheek, feeling a cool sensation on her fingertips.

"Emily...you finally decided to come back."

Her voice was slightly choked, but she held it in, her gaze carefully examining her youngest daughter, as she continued:

"How are you doing in Hong Kong? You seem to have lost some weight."

This statement reflects genuine concern and also reveals a deep sense of sympathy and concern for the two sisters as they live away from home.

Emily took her mother's arm and rubbed her cheek against her mother's palm like a spoiled kitten.

"I'm doing great, Mom! Hong Kong is so lively. And with my sister around, she's so capable, who would dare to bully me?"

After a brief, somewhat awkward moment of relaxation that Emily had tried to create, the living room fell back into an even more awkward, superficial exchange of polite small talk.

They talked about the weather, about their travels, and all the topics stayed on the surface, carefully avoiding the enormous object that everyone in the room knew about—Isabel's pregnant belly, and her relationship with Liu Jianguo.

Count Arthur Cavendish barely spoke, silently observing Liu Jianguo's every move, every expression, and every answer with his sharp green eyes.

Finally, after a servant served him black tea and a soft clinking of porcelain, Marquis Arthur put down his almost untouched teacup, the porcelain base and silver tray making a crisp "ding".

He looked at Isabel, his voice flat and emotionless, yet carrying an undeniable command:

"Isabel, come to the study with me for a moment."

There are some... family matters that I need to confirm with you.

When he spoke of "family affairs," his gaze swept over Liu Jianguo almost imperceptibly, clearly drawing a line between them.