Chapter 19 Cohabitation (7) Wen Chen came looking for inspiration, Gu Moheng...

The "Homecoming" project team's daily meeting was held as scheduled at the Dream Building Studio.

On the projection screen, the 3D rendering of "Returning Home" rotates silently, with an ingenious structure and near-perfect space utilization.

"Don't you guys think it's too cold?" Wen Chen asked suddenly after staring at the screen for a long time.

A moment of silence fell over the meeting room. A young designer cautiously glanced at Wen Chen a few times before finally speaking up, "But Professor Wen, this design, in terms of both lighting and circulation, takes human comfort into consideration..."

“I’m not talking about it in a physical sense,” Wen Chen interrupted him clearly, getting up and walking towards the screen. He stretched out his hand, his fingertips landing on the open area of ​​the public green space.

“‘Returning Home’ is our selling point, which is ‘home’.”

“A home should be warm and full of memories. Let’s take another look at this model we have now. It’s perfect, like a precision instrument. But it has no soul.”

The meeting room fell silent as everyone pondered his words.

"So... what does Teacher Wen mean?" Xiao Li asked tentatively.

Wen Chen's gaze swept over the young faces: "The most precious and warmest thing a person has is memories. What do you think? Where do you keep the times you miss the most?"

The words had barely left his mouth.

"University." A recent graduate intern blurted out almost without thinking.

These two words, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, create ripples.

"Yes! My college days! I really miss them..."

"Back then, we had nothing, yet it felt like we had everything!"

"The road lined with sycamore trees at the school gate, and the smell of sunshine in the library!"

The atmosphere in the meeting room was instantly ignited.

Wen Chen listened quietly without saying a word. Only her fingers, hanging at her sides, unconsciously curled up, her nails digging into her palms, causing a slight stinging pain.

University……

His alma mater, University A.

That place that held his entire youth, and also buried all his innocence.

He seemed to see Gu Moheng again, on that afternoon under the camphor tree, the boy resting his head on his lap, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting dappled, dancing shadows on his handsome face.

And then there was Gu Moheng's smiling voice echoing in my ears: "Wen Chen, when can we move into the home you designed yourself?"

Wen Chen's breath hitched slightly.

"Teacher Wen?" Xiao Li's voice pulled him out of his memories.

He snapped back to reality, a glint flashing in his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses, and all his outward emotions were quickly concealed and sealed away in a depth unseen by anyone.

“It’s settled then,” he said, regaining his usual composure. “I’m going to University A.”

He paused, picked up the car keys, as if explaining to himself, or as if informing someone.

"Look for inspiration in real-world settings."

-

In the depths of winter, University A resembles an oil painting by Monet. The withered branches of the sycamore trees outline desolate lines against the leaden sky.

Wen Chen parked the car downstairs at the School of Architecture. He didn't get out immediately, but sat quietly in the driver's seat, looking out the window at the familiar red brick building.

Eight years is enough time for a roadside bench to be repainted, and enough time for a person's heart to be covered with a thick callus.

A young couple, carrying books, walked past the car, laughing. The boy casually brushed a fallen leaf from the girl's hair. Wen Chen's gaze unconsciously followed them until their figures disappeared around the corner, before she slowly opened the car door and got out.

The air was filled with the cool scent of fallen leaves and earth.

Most students were on holiday, and the campus was sparsely populated. Wen Chen turned up the collar of his trench coat, covering half of his handsome face, and also separating himself from a past he was unwilling to easily touch.

He thought he would never return here. The sycamore-lined avenue beneath his feet remained the same, only the trunks were thicker, and the fallen leaves were swept away more thoroughly. Sunlight filtered through the bare branches, cutting out fine, shimmering patches of light on the gray stone pavement.

Like fragments of memories crushed by time.

He strolled aimlessly, without a destination, as if he were at a crossroads in time, letting his body's instincts take him back to the past.

On the red brick wall of the art academy, withered ivy resembles a dried-up map.

Wen Chen stopped and looked up at the rightmost window on the third floor—his former studio.

He took a deep breath, the crisp air filling his lungs, as if he could still discern the unique scent of youth—a mixture of turpentine and paint. He could almost see that sunny boy, always leaning against the studio door, wearing a white shirt, clutching a thick book on finance, waiting for him with a smile in his eyes.

It felt as if an invisible hand was gently squeezing my heart.

It doesn't hurt, it just feels very sore and astringent.

He looked away, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips. He had come seeking inspiration, not to mourn the past. Yet, the subtle, familiar throbbing in his heart served as a stark reminder—some parts of the past are never truly over.

Wen Chen turned around and headed towards the library.

But just as he turned the corner, his feet suddenly froze on the spot.

His gaze fell upon the camphor tree not far away, when a tall, slender figure unexpectedly entered his field of vision. The person had their back to him, looking up slightly at something. A dark gray cashmere coat accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs, his figure as slender as a pine tree. Even from behind, Wen Chen was certain he wouldn't mistake him.

Gu Moheng.

How did he end up here? Standing next to him was an elderly man with gray hair and a slightly hunched back. He was none other than the former dean of the School of Architecture, who was also his graduate advisor.

Wen Chen frowned, instinctively wanting to turn around and leave.

"Xiao Wen?" The old dean happened to turn around and saw him at a glance, his cloudy eyes instantly brightening.

Wen Chen's feet could not move an inch. He could only grit his teeth and step forward, putting on his usual gentle and polite smile, to greet the old man.

"Dean, it's been a long time! How have you been?"

"Good, very good!" The old dean saw Wen Chen grinning from ear to ear, grabbed his hand and patted him, "You rascal, you disappeared after graduation, and now you're a famous designer in the country, and you don't even come back to see this old man!"

Although the old dean's words were a complaint, his smile remained undiminished, and he looked at his prized student with great satisfaction.

As Wen Chen approached, Gu Moheng slowly turned around, his deep and calm eyes, as if they had been waiting for a long time, staring directly and unabashedly at him.

Their eyes met.

There was no surprise whatsoever, as if Gu Moheng had known all along that he would be here.

Wen Chen met his gaze for a second, then casually looked away and continued chatting with the dean: "I've been busy with projects lately, but I'll definitely come to see you once this period is over."

"Alright, I'll remember that!" The dean turned to Gu Moheng with a smile. "Our academy's 'Qingyun Project' this time is all thanks to Gu Moheng's funding. I was just asking Gu Moheng why you didn't come along. Back then, you two were both prominent figures in your respective academies, and we all know about your stories—but we old folks aren't old-fashioned. We're happy to see a powerful alliance succeed!"

The old dean's words, packed with information, struck Wen Chen like a shard of ice. Even the meager warmth of winter seemed to vanish.

Wen Chen's smile froze for a fleeting moment, too quick to catch. The next second, it returned to normal, though the smile never reached his eyes again. He said politely, "Dean, you're joking."

His voice remained gentle, yet it carried a polite distance, as if filtered through frosted glass. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses with his fingertip, slightly turning his body to create a perfectly balanced half-step between himself and Gu Moheng, a symbolic distance.

"President Gu's support for education is admirable." He smirked, his tone as official as if he were reading a press release.

The old dean chuckled, his gaze shifting between the two men, full of the knowing wisdom of someone with experience.

“Hey, you young people…” He pointed to the huge camphor tree, “I remember back then, the two of you loved to sit under that tree. One of you would draw, and the other would read. Even we found the scene pleasing to the eye.”

Wen Chen's gaze, uncontrollably following the dean's finger, drifted toward the camphor tree.

The tree is still the same tree.

But the two boys were no longer under the tree.

Gu Moheng remained silent. His tall figure appeared somewhat desolate in the thin winter sunlight, but his unfathomable eyes were fixed on Wen Chen's profile.

Greedy, yet restrained.

Just then, the dean's phone rang. He answered it, said a few words, and turned around apologetically: "Xiao Gu, Xiao Wen, I have a meeting to attend, I have to go now."

He patted Wen Chen's arm, then looked meaningfully at Gu Moheng.

"You young people, have a good chat." With that, he walked away with his hands behind his back, beaming.

With the old dean gone, only a suffocating silence and an omnipresent chill remained in the air. Wen Chen's fingertips, hanging by his sides, curled slightly. The icy air seeped into his sleeves, bringing a shiver. He hadn't wanted to run into Gu Moheng at this moment, but he had anyway. He looked towards the sun-dappled stone path not far away—the path leading to the library.

He remembered walking side by side with Gu Moheng countless times. The summer night wind, the noisy cicadas, the long shadows cast by the streetlights, and the clearly audible, rapid breathing when they were close.

Wen Chen came seeking inspiration, but Gu Moheng did not. The word "coincidence" was never even in the first place.

An hour ago, a short text message from Qin Shu popped up on Gu Moheng's phone screen.

[Professor Wen has already driven to University A.]

So he canceled the afternoon's international video conference and had Qin Shu immediately contact University A to finalize the donation details for the "Qingyun Project" that he had already drafted. Fortunately, the company was closer to University A than Wen Chen's studio, allowing him to meticulously orchestrate this seemingly destined "reunion."

"Wen Chen".

Gu Moheng's voice was deep, with a hint of barely perceptible hoarseness. His gaze was fixed on Wen Chen. Even though they had just met that morning and were already living under the same roof, he couldn't suppress the longing he felt for Wen Chen.

Wen Chen waited for two seconds, but received no further comment. He curled his lips into a cold smile, his gaze finally settling on Gu Moheng's face again, his expression one of obvious aloofness: "If Mr. Gu has finished his business and wishes to stay and reminisce about his youth alone, please feel free. I have other matters to attend to, so I will not keep you company."

Having said that, he didn't hesitate any longer, lifting his foot to step out, his steps resolute and decisive. Just like eight years ago, when Gu Moheng turned and left, he didn't look back.

One step, two steps. The person behind him didn't follow, nor did they make a sound.

For some reason, Wen Chen's heart felt like a suspended stone, sinking down and leaving a sense of emptiness.

The sky darkened without warning. Lead-gray clouds, like spilled ink, quickly spread across the sky, pressing heavily towards the ground. The wind suddenly picked up, swirling up withered leaves. A drop of cold liquid slammed heavily onto Wen Chen's glasses, instantly blurring his vision.

He instinctively raised his hand to wipe it.

"Pitter-patter, pitter-patter..." In just a few seconds, a torrential downpour swept across the entire campus without warning, turning the world into a white curtain of rain.

Wen Chen's coat was instantly soaked through, the icy rain sliding down his hair and into his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He awkwardly raised his hand to shield his forehead, squinting as he tried to find shelter in the rain. Just then, his wrist was suddenly gripped by a hot, familiar force!

"Over here!" Gu Moheng came bounding towards him from behind, his voice muffled by the sound of the pouring rain.

Wen Chen was pulled tightly by him, stumbling as they rushed into the dense rain. The rain lashed down, blurring everything in sight. He couldn't even see Gu Moheng's expression; he could only feel the large, hot, and powerful hand gripping his wrist, refusing to let him break free.

They ran across the sycamore-lined avenue and rushed across the rain-soaked lawn. Finally, Gu Moheng pulled him under a narrow roof.

"Huff... huff..."

Heavy breathing filled the cramped space.

Wen Chen leaned against the mottled, damp wall, raindrops streaming down his handsome face and dripping into his collar. His wispy hair, wet and disheveled, clung to his temples, making him appear somewhat vulnerable.

He looked up and around before realizing that the place where they were sheltering from the rain was a café that had already closed.

The wooden signboard was faded by rain, and the words "Afternoon" were blurred and almost illegible. The glass door, which had been covered with a "Shop for Rent" sign, was already peeling and curled from the wind and sun. Looking through the light, the inside was completely emptied, with scattered miscellaneous items lying haphazardly.

When Wen Chen saw what was there, her heart skipped a beat.

It turns out it's here...

This was the place they frequented most during their university years.

Back then, he liked to sit by the window, order a dark Americano, and spend the whole afternoon drawing. Gu Moheng would sit quietly opposite him, reading his finance books, occasionally looking up at him with gentle eyes, keeping him company for a whole lazy, sunny afternoon.

The eaves at the entrance of the coffee shop are very narrow, barely enough to accommodate two people, who are almost shoulder to shoulder.

Wen Chen could clearly smell the familiar, crisp scent of cedar on him, now mixed with the dampness of the rain, making it even stronger and lingering around his nose. He subconsciously moved to the side, trying to create some distance, but his back was pressed against the cold, peeling wooden wall, leaving him with no way to retreat.

The sound of rain became the only sound in the world.

It splashed and roared, as if it were washing away the entire world.

No one spoke. Silence fermented in the sound of rain, spreading a silent tension.

Wen Chen turned his head to the side, avoiding the gaze of those around him, and watched as the rainwater gathered from the roof tiles, forming continuous curtains of water that fell before his eyes.

Even so, he could still feel the burning gaze beside him, so intense it could almost set him on fire, fixed on his profile, his wet hair, and his slightly pursed lips, unwavering and greedy.

He raised his hand, slowly and deliberately removing his rain-blurred glasses, took out a tissue, and carefully wiped the water droplets from the lenses. With this seemingly calm action, he desperately tried to conceal the pounding of his heart that was already out of control in his chest.

“Here…” Gu Moheng’s voice suddenly rang in my ears.

Wen Chen paused slightly as he wiped his glasses. He heard Gu Moheng say, "...Nothing has changed."

Wen Chen slowly put his glasses back on. Through the clear lenses, he saw the huge camphor tree in the rain, still lush and verdant. He didn't turn around, but just gazed at the rain, his voice as faint as the air washed clean by the rain.

"Is that so?" He paused, each word falling clearly and calmly, as if stating an undeniable fact, or as if admonishing himself: "But people can change."

A note from the author:

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