Chapter 28 Fragments (4) This guy wants to freeload?

The doorbell rang again.

"Who is it at this hour?" Mother Wen put down her knitting needles and got up to open the door.

"Mom!" Wen Chen suddenly stood up, her movement so forceful that it overturned the fruit plate, scattering apples all over the floor.

Startled, Wen's mother turned around in surprise: "What's wrong? Why are you so easily startled?"

Wen Chen's face was a little pale, and his Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

"N-nothing...it's nothing." He stiffly bent down to pick up the apples, trying to hide his panic. "It's probably a sales pitch, ignore it."

"Nonsense, there are no salespeople in this neighborhood."

Wen's mother scolded him playfully, but didn't think much of it. She turned around, walked to the entrance, and pressed the unlock button.

With a "clatter".

The gate outside the courtyard opened, and Wen's mother immediately opened the door to the room.

The chill of a deep winter night, mixed with the scent of cedar, forcefully crept in through the cracks in the door.

"Hello, Auntie." A humble and polite male voice sounded from the doorway.

Wen Chen closed her eyes.

It really was him.

Mrs. Wen was clearly taken aback. The man at the door was dressed in a well-tailored dark black cashmere overcoat, with a perfectly tailored suit underneath. His slightly disheveled hair was neatly combed back, but his right hand, wrapped in thick gauze, still hung glaringly at his sides. In his left hand, he carried two beautifully wrapped gift boxes, which were quite valuable.

Despite his sickly pale complexion and prominent bloodshot eyes, his face was exceptionally superior—his features were deep and sculpted, his nose was high and straight, and he exuded an air of nobility and oppressiveness from someone who had long held a high position.

"Who are you……"

Gu Moheng bowed slightly, his posture impeccably humble, concealing all his sharpness and appearing gentle and refined.

“I am Wen Chen’s friend and also his current project partner.”

As he spoke, his gaze passed over Wen's mother's shoulder and landed precisely on that stiff, backless figure. The moment their eyes met, their gazes became deep and burning.

"I heard that Wen Chen came back to visit you two today. I just happened to be passing by, so I took the liberty of paying a visit."

Wen's mother's worldly-wise eyes slowly swept over him, her polite smile faltering slightly. She vaguely remembered this face. Even though he was trying his best to appear docile and harmless, the deep-seated obsession and possessiveness hidden in his eyes were unmistakable when he looked into the room.

Like a wolf, keeping a close eye on its prey that has been lost and then regained.

A flicker of understanding crossed Wen's mother's eyes, which then deepened into a complex, unfathomable expression. She stepped aside, her smile fading slightly, but she maintained her composure: "Please come in."

Gu Moheng's tense shoulders and back relaxed almost imperceptibly.

"Thank you, Auntie. Sorry to bother you."

"I didn't know what you two liked, so I just brought a little something." He stepped into the house, walked to the coffee table, and put the gift down.

Wen Chen glanced at them—aged Pu'er tea, her father's favorite; rare oil paints, her mother had been talking about them for a long time.

casual?

Clearly, they had a premeditated plan.

"I can't accept this. It's good that you came, but you brought such valuable things." Mr. Wen was also woken up. He put on his reading glasses and took a closer look. His eyes lit up. "Oh, this tea is quite rare."

Gu Moheng smiled modestly, "I'm glad you like it."

“Mr. Gu…” Wen Chen suddenly spoke up, interrupting her parents’ enthusiasm.

He walked up to Gu Moheng, separating him from his parents with his body, and said in a low voice, "The things have been delivered, please go back."

Gu Moheng looked up at him.

The two were very close.

Wen Chen was so close that she could clearly smell the faint medicinal scent on him, as well as the aggressive aura hidden beneath the cedarwood fragrance.

"Wen Chen," Gu Moheng called out softly, his voice barely audible to them, "I haven't eaten yet."

Wen Chen glanced sideways, her eyes widening in disbelief as she looked down at Gu Moheng.

This guy wants to freeload?

He stared at the man in front of him in disbelief.

Gu Moheng, who is decisive and ruthless on Wall Street and insists on completing contracts even if it causes stomach bleeding, is actually playing the victim in front of his parents.

"Go to a restaurant if you haven't eaten."

Wen Chen gritted her teeth and squeezed out the words, trying not to let her parents, who were not far away, notice anything amiss, "There's a ramen shop 200 meters to the left after you go out. Goodbye."

Gu Moheng, however, did not move.

He lowered his eyes, his gaze fixed on Wen Chen's tightly pursed lips, his Adam's apple bobbing, revealing an almost shameless stubbornness.

"I want to eat home-cooked meals."

He looked at Wen Chen, a hint of vulnerability flashing in his eyes, as if deliberately tearing open a wound to show to others.

"My stomach hurts a little."

The two were at an impasse when Wen's mother interjected, "Xiao Chen, why aren't you letting the guests sit down?"

Wen Chen's back stiffened, and she subconsciously turned to the side.

Wen's mother walked over, but instead of looking at Wen Chen, her gaze fell directly on Gu Moheng's face. Under the bright lights of the living room, the man's sharply defined features were clearly visible.

Wen's mother's gaze was like a fine paintbrush, scraping across his eyebrows and eyes inch by inch, from his deep, tired eyes to his straight nose and then to his tightly pursed thin lips.

Eight years have passed, and Gu Moheng's temperament has changed dramatically, shedding his naivety and gaining a sharp maturity. But his appearance is too outstanding; once seen, it is unforgettable.

She recognized him.

That bastard who, eight years ago, made his son lose his mind on a rainy night, run a high fever for three days, and call out his name.

The culprit who caused her son to live like an ascetic all these years.

That was the first time her proud son had been humbled to the dust, and then brutally crushed.

Wen Chen keenly noticed the change in her mother's emotions.

"Mom, he has something to do, he'll be there soon..."

“Mr. Gu, right?” Mrs. Wen suddenly spoke, interrupting him.

Gu Moheng immediately sensed the change in the elder's aura. He stopped pestering Wen Chen, bowed slightly, and said in a very humble manner, "Auntie, just call me Xiao Gu."

The sharpness in Wen's mother's eyes suddenly faded, replaced by an unfathomable depth. She withdrew her gaze and swept it over her son's tense and guarded face.

A wise child is better than his mother.

For eight years, Wen Chen had lived like a stagnant pool. Even with his successful career, he was always polite but lacked any vitality. But now, that stagnant pool had been stirred up. Whether it was anger or anxiety, he had come alive again.

Wen's mother suddenly smiled, a smile that was both cunning and composed, revealing her all-knowing nature.

"Since they are partners and friends, how can you send them away just because they have a stomachache?"

Wen Chen froze, incredulous: "Mom?"

A spark suddenly ignited in Gu Moheng's dimmed eyes. He looked up abruptly, his voice trembling with surprise and delight, "Auntie, I..."

"That's perfect. There's still some food at home. I'll heat it up if you don't mind..."

"I don't mind."

Gu Moheng answered quickly, even bypassing Wen Chen, and gave Wen's mother a grateful smile, "I really want to try Auntie's cooking."

Wen Chen: "..."

Looking at Gu Moheng's obedient and compliant appearance, he felt it was absurd.

"Mom, no need to trouble yourself, he has other things to do..."

"It's alright, I've already finished my work."

Gu Moheng interrupted him again, his tone gentle but firm, "I'm free tonight."

Not long after.

Steaming hot leftovers are served. Braised pork ribs and a bowl of white rice.

Wen Chen leaned against the restaurant door frame with her arms crossed, looking coldly at the man sitting at the table.

Gu Moheng, who could manipulate events on Wall Street and remain unfazed even when faced with contracts worth hundreds of millions of dollars, was now awkwardly holding a spoon with his left hand due to the heavy bandage on his right hand. His movements were clumsy, yet they did not lack an elegance ingrained in his very being.

Wen's mother placed a plate of freshly chopped sauerkraut next to him.

"There's nothing fancy, just something to eat."

Gu Moheng looked up, his bloodshot eyes shining with an almost devout light.

"That's good enough."

He scooped up a spoonful of rice mixed with meat gravy and put it in his mouth. Instead of wolfing it down, he chewed slowly, as if savoring a dish from a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Gu Moheng, however, seemed to be truly starving. He ate the bowl of rice, which was piled up like a small mountain, cleaned it all up, even using the last bit of broth to mix with the rice.

Wen's mother sat opposite, holding a cup of hot tea, her gaze sweeping between the two of them with a knowing understanding that she didn't say anything.

“Little Gu,” Wen’s mother suddenly spoke.

Gu Moheng immediately put down his spoon, sat up straight, and looked like he was listening to a lecture.

"Auntie, please speak."

Wen's mother smiled, but her eyes drifted meaningfully towards Wen Chen.

"Xiao Chen told me that he's been staying at an old classmate's house recently."

Wen Chen's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively wanted to speak up to stop him.

Wen's mother ignored her son's embarrassment and continued to look at Gu Moheng with a smile.

"That 'old classmate,' you're the one, right?"

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Gu Moheng did not deny it, and nodded frankly.

"Yes, Wen Chen has been staying at my place recently."

Wen's mother sighed softly, her tone carrying a touch of a mother's solemnity.

"That would be very kind of you."

“This child has been spoiled by us since he was little. He is willful and stubborn,” she said, her gaze falling on Wen Chen’s stiff profile. “He has never suffered any hardship.”

Wen Chen gritted her teeth, her fingers gripping the edge of the door frame tightly.

Mother Wen changed the subject, her voice lowering slightly:

"The only time I ever suffered a major hardship was the year I graduated from university."

"I was heartbroken, like I'd lost half my life. I had a high fever and stayed home for three whole days."

Wen Chen suddenly looked up and interrupted sharply, "Mom! Why bring up these old stories?"

Gu Moheng's body instantly stiffened like a stone. His slightly relieved expression vanished completely, leaving him as pale as paper.

Of course he remembers.

That high fever was left behind after he resolutely left in the heavy rain.

Wen's mother did not stop because of her son's interruption, but looked at Gu Moheng intently, "I wonder how that person is doing now."

The restaurant fell into a deathly silence.

Only the ticking of the clock struck my eardrums.

Gu Moheng slowly lowered his eyes, concealing the surging pain and regret within them. His left hand, resting on his knee, clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

"He's not doing well."

“He’s not doing well,” his voice was terribly hoarse. “The person who made Wen Chen suffer has been regretting and tormenting every single day for the past eight years.”

He looked up, his gaze passing over the dining table and meeting Wen Chen's shocked and conflicted eyes: "He deserved it."

He spoke those three words very softly, yet they carried immense weight.

Wen's mother gave him a deep look, the sharpness in her eyes gradually fading into a faint sigh. She didn't continue, but pushed the dish of pickled vegetables closer: "Eat, the food is getting cold."

Gu Moheng seemed to have received some kind of pardon. He lowered his head and ate the rest of his meal in large mouthfuls. After putting down his chopsticks, he immediately stood up and deftly cleaned up the mess on the table.

The sound of rushing water filled the air.

Gu Moheng squeezed out dish soap with one hand and scrubbed the plate. The foam clung to the cuffs of his expensive shirt, but he was oblivious, looking down as he watched the water wash through his fingers, carefully cleaning the dishes.

The sound of flowing water finally stopped.

He turned off the tap, wiped the dishes with a dry cloth, and put them into the sterilizer one by one.

In the living room, the television volume had been turned down.

Mr. and Mrs. Wen did not disturb the two people in the kitchen; one was sipping tea, and the other, wearing reading glasses, was studying the paint set. Upon seeing someone come out, Mrs. Wen immediately put down her things.

"I'll do it; I can't let you do it."

Gu Moheng bowed slightly, a polite smile on his face, but he couldn't hide the weariness between his brows.

"It's no trouble at all, it's my pleasure. It's you who's gone to the trouble of warming up the food for me, Auntie."

He glanced at Wen Chen, then turned to Wen's mother, his tone sincere: "Thank you for your hospitality, Auntie. It's been a long time since I've had such home-cooked meals."