Chapter 2 Reunion (2) I agree.

Stepping out of that oppressive building, the scorching afternoon air hit him. Wen Chen took a deep breath, the pungent smell of dust and exhaust fumes making his throat itch. He strode to the white SUV by the roadside, opened the door, and got into the driver's seat.

With a "bang," the car door shut out the noise from the outside world and also stripped him of all his pretense.

Wen Chen leaned back in his seat, his previously ramrod-straight back finally collapsing completely. He raised his hand to loosen the buttons on his collar, but found his fingertips trembling uncontrollably, so he gave up. Gu Moheng's increasingly sharp face was clearer in Wen Chen's mind than ever before. A sharp, throbbing pain shot through his heart, like a thorn buried for eight years being ripped out by the roots, leaving a bloody mess.

So it turns out, it wasn't that I forgot.

He just hid it so well that even he himself was almost starting to believe the lie.

Wen Chen didn't know how he drove back to the studio. The traffic lights and horns along the way seemed blurry and unreal, as if seen through frosted glass. He felt like a soulless shell, operating this cold machine solely through muscle memory.

Only after the car came to a smooth stop in the underground parking garage and the engine was turned off did he belatedly realize that his back was already soaked with cold sweat.

The elevator ascended smoothly, and his pale, bloodless face was reflected on the mirror-like walls of the car.

"bite--"

The elevator doors opened.

He unlocked the door with his fingerprint and pushed it open.

The room was empty; Xiao Li and his colleagues had already gone home after get off work.

"Click." The sound of the door lock clicking shut was crisp and jarring in the empty office.

Wen Chen leaned against the cold door, all the dignity she had maintained in front of others crumbling at this moment.

Eight years. He spent eight years building a seemingly impregnable fortress for himself. Until Gu Moheng appeared, and with just one encounter, that fortress began to crumble.

"Buzz—"

The phone in my pocket vibrated very slightly.

Wen Chen's eyelashes trembled slightly as he slowly opened his eyes. He took out his phone; a new message was displayed on the screen. It was from an unknown number without a contact name. His finger hovered above the screen, hesitating for a moment. Finally, he clicked on it.

The text message contained only three concise words:

"Look downstairs."

Wen Chen's pupils contracted sharply, mirroring his heartbeat. A chill ran from his feet to the top of his head, making him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave. He knew almost instantly who was behind that number.

There would be no one else but him.

Wen Chen's breath hitched, but her body moved faster than her thoughts. She strode toward the huge floor-to-ceiling window and reached out to grab the blinds' pull cord.

With a "whoosh," the tightly closed blinds opened with a forceful pull of the cord.

Outside the window, night had already fallen.

Downstairs, the traffic flows and neon lights flash, weaving together a dazzling galaxy.

His gaze swept past the endless stream of car lights, fixing precisely on the other side of the street.

There was a black Maybach parked there, like a beast lurking in the night, low-key and reserved, yet exuding an undeniable sense of class oppression compared to its surroundings.

A person was leaning against the car.

The night enveloped him, revealing his tall and imposing figure. Even from dozens of meters away through the cold glass, Wen Chen instantly recognized him by his familiar aura. He wasn't wearing the impeccably tailored suit he'd worn that afternoon; instead, he was sporting a dark turtleneck cashmere sweater, layered under a sharply tailored black long coat.

He leaned casually against the car door, tilting his head slightly, his dark eyes piercing through the night and traffic, landing precisely on the window where Wen Chen was.

It was as if he had always been certain that he would be here.

He will definitely see it.

Gu Moheng held a cell phone in his hand. The cold light from the screen illuminated his sharply defined jawline and his unfathomable eyes.

Their gazes collided in the night sky. That gaze, like a poisoned hook, pierced through dozens of meters, nailing itself into Wen Chen's soul.

The eye contact lasted only a few seconds, but Wen Chen's blood seemed to freeze at that moment.

He was still holding the rope in his hand, his grip so tight it almost snapped the thin cord.

The next second.

He suddenly let go.

With a "whoosh," the slats of the Venetian blinds fell cleanly and crisply, like a slammed gate, instantly separating the two worlds.

The studio returned to darkness, but Wen Chen's body trembled slightly. He leaned against the cold wall, the chill seeping into his bones through his shirt, yet he still couldn't suppress the burning pain in his heart.

Beneath the building.

In Gu Moheng's eyes, the image of that window being instantly swallowed by darkness was reflected.

As expected. He forced a smile, but there was no hint of amusement in his eyes. His handsome face was only tinged with a desolate loneliness, tinged with the darkness of the night. He leaned against the cold car body, even his expensive cashmere coat couldn't ward off the chill that seeped into his bones.

He looked down and pulled a silver cigarette case from his pocket, his slender fingers picking out a cigarette.

“Clatter.”

A flash of light appeared and disappeared in an instant.

He kept his head down, his usually sharp face now showing a weariness bordering on brokenness. The orange cigarette butt flickered in the darkness, like the only embers of fire remaining in his heart.

Among the passersby, some girls couldn't help but turn around to look at him. The man was unbelievably handsome, yet his aura was colder than the autumn night wind.

The girls dared not approach, but whispered among themselves from a distance.

Gu Moheng was completely unaware of this. His entire focus was on that tightly closed window. He inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs and exhaled slowly, the white smoke blurring his sharp features.

Memories flooded back.

Eight years ago.

It was another cold night, with rain drizzling down from the sky.

"Let's break up, Wen Chen."

In the apartment, he personally threw the scarf Wen Chen had knitted for him, along with her burning heart, into the trash can.

"Why?" Wen Chen's eyes were red and she was gripping his arm tightly.

"I'm tired of playing with it, is that not allowed?"

He heard himself speak in the cruelest tone. Every word was like a knife, first piercing himself, then slowly torturing the person he loved most.

"Gu Moheng, look me in the eyes and say it again!" Wen Chen didn't believe him, so she gripped Gu Moheng's hand tighter, her voice even sounding like she was about to cry.

He didn't.

He dared not.

He simply used force, prying Wen Chen's fingers off one by one, which were tightly gripping his. "Stop bothering me, it looks bad."

After saying that, he picked up his suitcase and walked into the pouring rain without looking back.

"Bang!"

The moment the door closed, he heard a suppressed sob behind him.

The sound was like a red-hot steel needle, piercing my eardrums, and echoing in my dreams every night ever since.

The rain lashed down, icy cold. He stood outside the door for a long time, until he was soaked to the bone and his blood ran cold.

I couldn't tell if the water on my face was rain or tears. That rain seemed to have been falling for eight years straight, without ever stopping.

...

"Hiss—" A burning pain shot through his fingertips. The cigarette had burned to the very end, scalding Gu Moheng, who was lost in his memories. He snapped out of his reverie, gave a self-deprecating laugh, and tossed the cigarette butt into the trash can. He straightened up again, his tall figure once more enveloped in a cold, hard aura. But deep within his eyes, gazing upstairs, churned a stubbornness more intense than the night itself.

His phone vibrated; it was an email notification from his special assistant, Qin Shu.

Gu Moheng eagerly opened the email, the cold light of the screen illuminating his expressionless face. The title of the document clearly read: "Wen Chen: A Detailed Report on Eight Years of Experience and Social Relationships".

The next day. The morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, cutting bright streaks of light across the floor.

Wen Chen didn't sleep a wink all night. In the bathroom mirror, apart from the faint dark circles under his eyes, his gentle and handsome face remained unchanged. He changed into a well-pressed white shirt, with a light gray cashmere cardigan over it, and his gold-rimmed glasses perfectly concealed the weariness between his brows.

At nine o'clock in the morning, the air was tense in the conference room of the Dream Building Studio.

The projector beam shone on the wall, projecting a complex three-dimensional structural diagram.

"Hongyuan's design drafts are conservative, but they excel in cost control, making them our strongest competitor."

“Xinghui has hired an overseas team with avant-garde concepts, making them a formidable competitor.”

...

The team members sat around a long table, each with a cup of black coffee, their faces etched with exhaustion.

Wen Chen's slender fingers traced across the blueprints, his voice calm and resolute: "There's no need to panic. Our 'Return to the Nest' strategy's core competitiveness lies in humanistic care."

His words always had a calming effect. The team members' tense nerves relaxed a little under his encouragement.

Just then, the conference room door was suddenly pushed open.

The discussion abruptly ceased, and all eyes turned to the door. Assistant Li, leaning against the doorframe, breathless with excitement, peered into the conference room with a searchy, eager look.

"Calm down." Wen Chen frowned slightly and handed over a glass of water.

Forgetting all about drinking, Xiao Li excitedly waved his tablet, his voice trembling: "Teacher Wen! Great news! Huge, fantastic news!"

He took a deep breath and almost shouted, "The project team just sent an email! We've been selected! And we're the first choice!"

"What?!"

"Really?!"

The meeting room erupted in excitement! The tension and exhaustion of the past few months turned into ecstasy in that moment, and several young interns hugged each other excitedly, their eyes reddening.

The Parker pen that Wen Chen was holding tapped lightly on the table with a "tap".

It's done. His painstakingly crafted "return to the nest" is finally about to move from blueprints to reality. A faint smile flashed across his lips.

“But…” Xiao Li swallowed, his ecstasy replaced by a strange sense of awe. “Mosheng Capital has put forward an additional condition.”

Wen Chen looked up, a sense of foreboding rising in her heart.

Xiao Li cautiously looked at Wen Chen and said timidly, "They require... that during the project, you, Teacher Wen, conduct a separate project progress report with Mr. Gu Moheng, the investor representative, once a week."

"A separate report?" The project manager frowned. "Isn't that against the rules? Normal project coordination has a fixed procedure."

“Yes, how can the chief designer report directly to the big boss? Especially since the other party is Gu Moheng.”

The surrounding chatter buzzed, but Wen Chen couldn't hear a single word. Xiao Li's words were like a bucket of ice water poured over his head.

His world fell silent the moment he heard the name "Gu Moheng." His hand, resting under the table, slowly clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white. His expression remained unchanged, still gentle, but the gaze behind his glasses was as cold as ice.

“Tell them I refuse.” The voice was soft, but undeniably firm.

Xiao Li was stunned. Wasn't "Returning Home" Professor Wen's most valued work? From conception to design, every detail was the result of countless days and nights of hard work. "Professor Wen, the other party said this is a mandatory clause, to be signed in the supplementary agreement. If we don't agree, it's equivalent to voluntarily giving up our first-choice qualification."

"This...this is an unfair contract!" someone muttered under their breath.

All eyes were on Wen Chen. Expectation, worry, resentment…

They knew what "returning home" meant to Wen Chen. It was his life's work, the foundation of his Dream Building Studio.

Wen Chen could clearly hear the heavy pounding of her heart in her chest, one beat after another, like the tolling of a death knell for fate.

Retreat may open up new possibilities, but it also means personally destroying your own hard work and the hopes of the entire team.

Entering was like stepping into an abyss, a prison tailor-made for him by Gu Moheng.

After a long while, he loosened his clenched fist. When he looked up again, all his emotions had subsided, leaving only a bottomless calm.

He looked at Xiao Li: "I agree."