Chapter 18 Cohabitation (6) [User has been deleted]

It's 3 a.m.

The bedroom was oppressively quiet, and that silence only made her more agitated. Wen Chen decided to go barefoot, carrying her digital monitor and a stack of drawings, and walked into the empty living room.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire city was asleep, with only a few scattered neon lights flickering silently in the distance like weary eyes.

Wen Chen didn't turn on the main light, but only switched on the small floor lamp next to the coffee table. The warm yellow light circled a small, lonely territory on the cold marble floor.

He sank into the sofa, spread the drawings on his lap, cleared his mind of all distractions, and forced himself to immerse himself in the intricate lines and data.

After an unknown amount of time, the soft lighting and the vast city night view made the eyelids of the person nestled in the plush sofa grow heavy. His consciousness blurred with the formulas of structural mechanics until he slumped over the blueprints and fell into a deep sleep. Only then did a tall, dark figure silently emerge from the depths of the corridor. Gu Moheng's footsteps were extremely light, as if afraid of shattering this fragile tranquility.

Warm yellow light streamed across Wen Chen's sleeping face. He was sleeping soundly, his usually straight back slightly hunched, revealing a vulnerable softness. His gold-rimmed glasses still sat on his nose, the lenses fogged up with each even breath.

Gu Moheng knelt down in front of him, his movements as gentle as if he were afraid of shattering a dream. He carefully took off his glasses, folded them neatly, and placed them where they wouldn't fall. Then, he gently draped the soft cashmere blanket he had been holding over Wen Chen's shoulders.

The person in their sleep seemed to sense the warmth, unconsciously snuggling deeper into the blanket and letting out a very soft murmur.

The soft hum froze Gu Moheng in place, maintaining his bent-over posture, gazing intently at Wen Chen's sleeping profile. All his coldness and aloofness crumbled; Wen Chen, his brows relaxed, seemed to have transformed back into the soft boy from eight years ago who would nap in the library, his head resting on Gu Moheng's arm. The boy who would smile and hand him ice water after a ball game, his eyes and brows sparkling with light.

Memories surged like a tide, a bittersweet mix that twisted Gu Moheng's heart, causing him almost to spasm with pain. He closed his eyes, forcefully suppressing the urge to embrace that was about to burst from his chest, but his fingertips rose uncontrollably, trembling with restraint, and slowly reached out towards the face so close to his.

Just a moment before his fingertips touched Wen Chen's cheek—

“…Gu Moheng…”

A very soft, indistinct murmur escaped from Wen Chen's lips.

Gu Moheng's breathing suddenly stopped. He was struck dumb, frozen in place.

He lowered his eyes, and Wen Chen's brows furrowed slightly in his sleep. His lips moved, and he uttered a few more words.

This time, it was crystal clear.

"...Don't go..."

Her outstretched hand froze in mid-air. Her fingertips were only an inch away from Wen Chen's warm cheek, yet it felt as if they were separated by an abyss of eight years.

The last thread of reason in Gu Moheng's mind snapped. All the composure he displayed in the business world, all the decisiveness he displayed in the face of crisis, were shattered at this moment by that whispered, light-as-a-butterfly murmur.

Eight years ago, on that rainy night, the boy clutched his sleeve tightly, his eyes red-rimmed, repeatedly asking him why. He, however, simply and coldly pried open the trembling fingers one by one. In the dead of night, in his dreams, hadn't he been experiencing the same agonizing, unseen torture?

His tall frame trembled uncontrollably. He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms, using the sharp pain to resist the regret that threatened to consume him. His throat burned as if branded with a hot iron. He wanted to speak, to say "I won't leave," to hold him tightly in his arms and tell him that he would never leave again.

But he didn't dare.

He feared that any sound would shatter this fragile dream, and awaken Wen Chen, who was still in the dream, clinging to a sliver of hope for him.

The warm yellow light in the living room was like a warm and soft dream he could never set foot in. He, on the other hand, was only fit to remain in the dim light that barely illuminated the room.

He silently took out his phone. The light from the screen broke through the thick gloom and illuminated his face.

That cry of "Don't go" was like a time machine, instantly dragging him back eight years.

Back then, Wen Chen did the same thing, begging him not to leave, over and over again.

He opened the green software that held all his sins. Hundreds, even thousands, of names lay in his contacts, each representing immense wealth and connections. But his gaze was fixed on the chat window he'd pinned to the top of his chat list for ten years, yet which had remained silent for eight.

The chat history is stuck in July, eight years ago.

That sweltering summer. Wen Chen's profile picture back then was one he took himself. The boy sat by the window of their university library, sunlight falling on his soft hair. He was looking down at an architectural atlas, his profile clean and gentle.

Gu Moheng's fingertips began to slide upwards.

One message after another flashed before his eyes like poisoned daggers, each one a slow, agonizing cut.

Gu Moheng, please reply to me, okay?

Did I do something wrong? Tell me.

Didn't we agree to go to Santorini together? I've already checked the plane tickets.

Why aren't you answering your phone?

Where are you? I'm so worried.

...

Above that was his cold, hard statement, "Let's break up."

Then came Wen Chen's overwhelming voice messages.

【Why? 】

Give me a reason.

Don't go.

Don't go.

[Gu Moheng, don't go...]

Gu Moheng's vision blurred completely. A drop of scalding liquid fell onto the cold screen, instantly spreading.

He could almost see through these words how Wen Chen huddled in their old rented room eight years ago, crying and trembling, sending out these desperate messages over and over again in the dead of night.

He didn't reply to a single one.

He just watched the glaring red notifications keep popping up, then turned off his phone and boarded a flight to a foreign country.

He personally pushed the boy who regarded him as his whole world into an endless hell.

Every bit of torment he endured during those eight years of longing was nothing but deserved punishment.

He clenched his teeth, his chest heaving violently.

At the top of the chat history were five cold, emotionless system notifications.

[User has been deleted]

Wen Chen didn't block him or delete him. Instead, he deleted the account that held all their youth and love. In the most resolute and thorough way, he uprooted the name "Gu Moheng," along with that humble, begging self, from his life.

An extremely suppressed, broken breath escaped from Gu Moheng's throat.

He maintained that almost humble posture, slowly bending down and gently resting his forehead on the cold marble floor beside Wen Chen's prostrate arm. Like a most devout and humble believer confessing before a deity.

Wen Chen was awakened by a faint, almost suppressed sob.

Consciousness, like a submarine submerged in the deep sea, was forcibly pulled back to the surface by those broken sobs. The first thing perceived was the warmth of the blanket, carrying the body heat of another person, and that familiar, crisp, cool scent of cedar.

He didn't open his eyes, his body remained motionless, even his breathing was deliberately kept steady as if he were asleep. The cashmere blanket covering him, carrying the warmth of another person and the familiar cool scent of cedar, gently enveloped him, like an embrace eight years overdue. And the faint, suppressed sobs in the air, like a scalding steel needle, precisely pierced his feigned sleep.

Wen Chen closed her eyes, her long eyelashes casting a trembling shadow in the dim light.

After an unknown amount of time, the faint, broken sobs gradually subsided.

The air returned to deathly stillness.

But Wen Chen could sense that Gu Moheng hadn't left. That heavy gaze, filled with regret and pain, was still fixed on him.

Time seemed to stretch out.

finally.

Wen Chen felt his body lighten. He was lifted up horizontally, blanket and all, and his cheek was forced against a firm and hot chest.

"Thump...thump...thump..."

Through the thin cashmere sweater, Gu Moheng's disordered yet powerful heartbeat could be clearly heard, each beat striking his eardrums heavily.

Wen Chen tried hard to control her body and not appear too stiff.

He was carefully placed back on the large bed in the bedroom, a soft down comforter gently covering his shoulders, shielding him from all the cold outside. For a moment, Wen Chen even felt fingertips, extremely lightly brushing against the strands of hair that fell across his forehead.

He heard very light footsteps moving away.

Then came the sound of the door being gently closed.

“Clatter.”

Gu Moheng left.

In the darkness, Wen Chen opened his eyes.

The bedroom was deathly silent, with only the barely perceptible breeze coming from the central air conditioning.

He didn't move; his body remained in the same position as when Gu Moheng placed him on the bed.

The gentleness with which that person left, the restraint with which they closed the door, and the broken sob suppressed deep in their throat, almost swallowed by the silence…

Wen Chen slowly raised his hand and covered his eyes. For the first time in eight years, he began to waver in the image of "cold and selfish Gu Moheng" that he had built up.

The resolute figure in the rainy night, and the trembling shoulders in the darkness, began to overlap and tear at him, giving him a splitting headache.

Which one is the real one?

The suppressed, broken sobs, filled with endless pain, echoed repeatedly in his ears like a curse.

Is it fake?

The first rays of sunlight finally pierced through the gaps in the heavy curtains, dispelling the darkness that filled the room.

Wen Chen opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long time. The suppressed sobs from last night clung to her auditory nerves like a nightmare she hadn't yet woken from.

He changed his clothes and came to the living room.

A tall figure was curled up on the sofa.

Gu Moheng lay on the sofa fully clothed, his head tilted to one side, fast asleep. He hadn't even gone back to his room. Even in his sleep, his brow was tightly furrowed, as if weighed down by a thousand-pound burden, and his eyes were dark and swollen.

The bluish stubble on his chin softened his usual sharp features. Stripped of all his authority and defensiveness, only deep weariness remained on his handsome face. His tall frame looked unusually cramped on the sofa, his long legs bent in a contorted, aggrieved posture.

Wen Chen's gaze fell on that handsome face, which was filled with fatigue.

The insecurity the person on the sofa had carried for years had kept him in a light sleep state. His long eyelashes fluttered, and then he slowly opened his eyes. The moment his deep eyes met Wen Chen's gaze, a childlike confusion and helplessness flashed across them.

Just one second.

The next second, all vulnerability vanished, and Gu Moheng sat up straight, his movements stiff and sluggish.

"...You're awake."

Wen Chen did not answer.

Gu Moheng stood up, his tall figure casting a somber shadow in the morning light. He raised his hand and pressed hard on his aching temples.

"I'll make you breakfast."

Wen Chen watched his retreating figure, which was almost fleeing, his gaze behind his glasses calm and serene.

Soft, restrained sounds soon filled the open kitchen.

A note from the author:

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