Chapter 23 Cohabitation (11) Your heart is still so cruel. ...

After Gu Moheng left, Wen Chen couldn't close her eyes again that night.

He lay flat on the bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, wide awake, until the first light of dawn pierced through the curtains. The city's clamor drifted in through the double-paned windows—a new day had begun, but the anger and turmoil that had accumulated in his heart all night remained undispelled by the morning light.

Wen Chen sat up expressionlessly and picked up his phone from the bedside table. The cold light from the screen illuminated the dark circles under his eyes. He opened the green chat app and quickly typed a message to his assistant, Xiao Li:

Go check on my house and see how things are going.

After sending the message, the phone was casually tossed back onto the bed.

An hour felt like an eternity.

"Buzz—" The phone vibrated.

Wen Chen snapped out of her reverie and unlocked her screen. Xiao Li's reply was long, divided into several parts:

[Teacher Wen, the situation... is not very optimistic.]

[The media not only didn't leave, but there were even more. Several mainstream media outlets, as well as independent media outlets that stream live online, all came.]

Wen Chen's brows furrowed slightly as her fingertips continued to trace downwards.

And... the most troublesome thing is...

[Because of this plagiarism scandal, your online popularity has skyrocketed. Many people who didn't believe you plagiarized have become fans because of your past works and your calm handling of the situation. Several fan clubs have been formed online, and they're quite large. So...]

Xiao Li's last message completely extinguished Wen Chen's idea of ​​moving back home.

[Right now, blocking your apartment building, besides the media, are also fan site administrators from various fan clubs. They're armed with long lenses and microphones; they look even more professional than the reporters.]

Wen Chen stared at those lines of text, the turbulent emotions in his eyes finally settling into a deathly calm. He twitched the corners of his mouth, letting out a very soft, emotionless sneer.

How absurd. A meticulously planned conspiracy intended to utterly destroy his career has, in the end, propelled him into a world of fame and fortune he never imagined and had tried to avoid.

He looked up at the sky outside the window, fragmented by the tall buildings.

The sunlight was blinding.

Wen Chen walked out of the room into the open kitchen, took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, unscrewed the cap, and took a big gulp. The cold liquid slid down his throat like an ice snake, trying to extinguish the flames that had been burning in his chest all night.

But it's no use.

That fire had already seeped into his very bones.

Behind me, a soft click came from the doorknob of the master bedroom.

Wen Chen's hand gripping the water bottle tightened suddenly, her knuckles turning white.

He didn't turn around.

Gu Moheng walked out, leaning against the doorframe. He had changed into a clean shirt and trousers, his hair was still wet and hanging over his forehead, his face was as pale as paper, and his eyes were dark and swollen. The hangover and the torment of the whole night had drained all his sharpness and color.

The air froze in that instant.

Even the movement of dust seemed to have stopped.

Gu Moheng's gaze was drawn in like a magnet, fixed intently on Wen Chen's slender and upright back. His lips moved, his Adam's apple bobbed violently, and the sound he made was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping:

"Wen Chen..."

Wen Chen seemed not to hear. He slowly closed the refrigerator door, turned around, and walked towards the coffee machine. Throughout the entire process, he didn't glance at Gu Moheng once.

He skillfully scooped up the coffee beans and poured them into the grinder.

"Buzz—"

The deafening noise of the grinding machine instantly shattered the suffocating silence, cruelly silencing any words Gu Moheng might have wanted to say.

Gu Moheng stood frozen in place, staring at Wen Chen's profile.

The noise stopped.

The rich aroma of coffee filled the air.

“Last night…” Gu Moheng’s voice was even hoarser than before, “…I’m sorry.”

Wen Chen picked up the pour-over kettle and slowly poured hot water into the coffee grounds, as if he hadn't heard the apology at all.

"I've had too much to drink."

Gu Moheng's breathing became rapid. "I didn't mean to... I..."

"President Gu."

Wen Chen finally spoke coldly.

He put down the kettle and turned to lean against the counter. His eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses were clear and calm, without a ripple, like the surface of a frozen lake. He looked at Gu Moheng, a faint, yet utterly cold, smile curving his lips.

"Drunkenness leads to promiscuity."

He paused, as if trying to give a precise definition to last night's absurd farce.

"The most basic excuse."

"I..." Gu Moheng's Adam's apple bobbed violently, but he couldn't utter a single word. All explanations seemed pale and laughable in the face of those cold, clear-headed, and almost cruel eyes.

yes.

Sexual misconduct after drinking.

The most basic excuse.

But he wasn't making excuses.

He really... went mad.

Wen Chen stopped looking at him. He picked up the freshly made, still steaming Americano, turned and left.

The last words echoed in the frozen air.

"Perhaps I shouldn't stay here any longer."

Upon hearing this, Gu Moheng's body swayed almost imperceptibly. The darkness in his eyes, which had just been swept away by regret and pain, solidified in that instant into something even more terrifying—a flame that bordered on obsession.

He stared at Wen Chen's resolute back as he carried the coffee towards the guest room. The door slammed shut mercilessly at the end of his sight.

Gu Moheng stood there, maintaining that posture for a very, very long time.

He finally slowly raised his hand, took out his phone, and dialed the number of his special assistant, Qin Shu.

The call was answered instantly.

"President Gu." Qin Shu's voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Qin Shu, from this moment on, stop all work you are doing except for the work scheduled for me."

Qin Shu on the other end of the phone was visibly taken aback.

Gu Moheng's gaze was fixed on the tightly closed studio door, the obsessive flame in his eyes burning brighter and brighter. "Your job recently is to keep a close eye on all of Wen Chen's movements."

“All.” He emphasized the word.

“Furthermore,” he paused, each word dripping with coldness, “I don’t want Mr. Wen to have any chance of moving out of my place.”

The sun was shining brightly outside the window, its gentle rays reflecting off the glass.

It happened to be the weekend, and Wen Chen spent the entire day in the studio.

He didn't go out, and Gu Moheng didn't bother him either. He leaned back in his chair, working on his laptop and digital screen, but he couldn't concentrate on a single word of the dense text and design drawings on the screen.

What kept replaying in my mind was the absurdity of last night, and Gu Moheng's burning red eyes.

Frustrated, he swiped his phone and opened the hotel booking app.

We must leave here.

Immediately, right away.

However, when he entered the date and clicked search, the results on the screen made him frown—all the four-star and above hotels in the city, from presidential suites to standard single rooms, were all marked as "fully booked".

How is that possible?

Wen Chen refused to believe it and switched to a different app.

The result was exactly the same.

He tried again a week later, and a month later. The same three glaring red words still appeared: 【Fully Booked】.

A surge of absurd and chilling anger rose from the depths of his heart. He knew almost without thinking who was behind it.

Wen Chen stood up, opened the door, and strode out.

In the living room, Gu Moheng was sitting on the sofa with a laptop on his lap, staring intently at the screen, seemingly handling official business.

Hearing the noise, he looked up.

Wen Chen walked up to him and slammed her phone screen heavily onto the coffee table between them.

"Did you make this?" Wen Chen's voice was as cold as ice.

Gu Moheng's gaze swept across the phone screen, then slowly rose to meet Wen Chen's furious gaze.

He neither admitted nor denied it. He simply closed his notebook slowly and leaned back slightly into the soft sofa.

“Wen Chen, there are media outlets guarding your apartment building 24/7. Any hotel carries the risk of information leaks.”

Every word he spoke was clear and rational, as if he were truly providing the most objective analysis of Wen Chen's situation. "Stay here with me," he paused, his gaze deep and unfathomable, "the safest place."

Wen Chen was so angry at his shameless and distorted statements that he laughed. He twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing a mocking smile.

"Safety?"

"Gu Moheng, do you think this place is safe for me?" The last sentence was like an invisible slap across Gu Moheng's face.

The color drained from Gu Moheng's face instantly. His hands, resting on his knees, curled and tightened uncontrollably at the knuckles.

Last night, he personally turned this only "safe place" into a dangerous forbidden zone.

Looking at his pale face, Wen Chen felt the suppressed anger in her heart burn even more fiercely.

"Stop with your self-righteous tricks," he said, emphasizing each word.

After saying that, he didn't look at Gu Moheng again and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Gu Moheng's voice sounded behind him, carrying a hint of barely perceptible panic.

Wen Chen didn't stop walking. "Let's go somewhere where you're not."

He walked straight back to the guest room without the slightest hesitation. The suitcase lock snapped open with a crisp, decisive sound.

Wen Chen opened the wardrobe expressionlessly, took out the clothes that still smelled of air freshener one by one, folded them neatly, and put them into her suitcase.

Soon, the small suitcase was filled. He closed the lid and zipped it up with a "whoosh." The wheels glided across the smooth wooden floor, making a low, rhythmic "gurgle."

Wen Chen pushed her suitcase out of the guest room.

In the living room, Gu Moheng remained in the same spot.

Hearing the sound, he turned around, and when his gaze fell on the black suitcase, his unfathomable eyes finally contracted violently.

Wen Chen didn't look at him, pushing the suitcase and walking straight towards the entrance.

"Where are you going?" Gu Moheng's voice rang out again, and beneath that deliberately maintained calm exterior was an uncontrollable, almost shattering panic.

Wen Chen stopped in the entryway. With his back to Gu Moheng, he said, "There are always hotels that your influence, Mr. Gu, cannot reach."

"There are reporters everywhere outside."

Wen Chen's lips curled into a mocking smile. He finally turned around, raised his eyes, and those usually gentle eyes were filled with a cold, all-knowing scorn.

"That's still much better than staying here."

Looking at Wen Chen's handsome face, which was filled with resolute determination, Gu Moheng felt as if his heart was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, the pain almost making it hard for him to breathe. He knew that saying anything more forceful would only push Wen Chen further away.

So he backed down.

Gu Moheng seemed to have used all his strength to squeeze out a sentence from his throat.

"good."

This single word startled Wen Chen slightly; he clearly hadn't expected him to agree so easily.

Gu Moheng looked at him, the dark storm surging in his eyes forcibly suppressed, "I'll let Qin Shu go with you."

Wen Chen frowned.

“Qin Shu used to practice Sanda (Chinese kickboxing),” Gu Moheng’s voice regained its composure. “He can protect you.”

Wen Chen smiled.

This time, he truly laughed. The laughter was as light as a feather, yet it felt like sharp thorns scraping against Gu Moheng's heart.

“Mr. Gu, this isn’t a foreign country. This is a peaceful society governed by law.” He pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold light. “I don’t need anyone’s protection. Besides, I’ve been perfectly fine during the eight years you were gone, Mr. Gu.”

Gu Moheng's lips parted slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing laboriously, as if some words were stuck in his throat, about to burst out.

He wanted to say no.

It's not that he doesn't want to come back.

It was his father's diagnosis, the pungent smell of disinfectant in the hospital, and the responsibility and despair that had kept him pinned to a foreign land for more than three years.

If that weren't the case, he would have rushed back four years ago, kneeling and begging for his forgiveness.

But these words, like lead, weighed heavily on the back of my tongue.

Faced with eight long and cruel years of emptiness, any explanation seems flimsy, like a despicable excuse to elicit sympathy. What right does he have to use his parents' deaths to absolve himself of his absence?

Finally, Gu Moheng clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms. The sharp pain reminded him of his helplessness in the face of Wen Chen's question. The light in his eyes dimmed completely, bit by bit.

It was a complete defeat, a defeat from which all hope and strength had been drained.

Looking at him like this, Wen Chen felt a faint, tingling sensation, as if pricked by a needle, in the place in her heart where eight years had worn down into a thick callus.

He looked away, no longer glancing at the man. He turned around and grasped the cold metal doorknob in the entryway.

Gu Moheng suddenly looked up, and a crack appeared in the cold, calm mask on his face. He actually smiled, a faint smile that instantly lowered the temperature of the entire space.

"Yeah?"

He said slowly and deliberately, "Since Mr. Wen thinks that the Qin book is useless..."

His gaze calmly fell on Wen Chen's face, each word clear and cruel:

"Then it's time for me to get a more capable assistant."

Wen Chen's mocking smile froze instantly. He looked at Gu Moheng. His mind uncontrollably flashed back to how the young man named Qin Shu had been so busy and attentive during his last hospitalization; and how frequently that name had appeared in news reports about Gu Moheng over the past few years.

That was a trusted confidant who had been with him for almost seven years.

Wen Chen's lips moved, but no sound came out. He felt a chill instantly shoot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He looked at the man in front of him, the face he had loved and hated for so many years.

Finally, a few words burst out from between his teeth.

"Gu Moheng... your heart is still so cruel."

After saying that, he gripped the handle tightly and, under Gu Moheng's instantly brightened gaze, abruptly turned around. The suitcase wheels made a "clatter-clatter" sound again.

This time, however, the direction was no longer the entrance.

It was the guest room where he had just resolutely left.