Chapter 33 is first published on Jinjiang Literature City. Please support the original work, "That Should Have Been at Dawn..."

Less than three minutes later, steady yet slightly hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

"Knock, knock."

The knocking was restrained and cautious, completely unlike Gu Moheng's assertive demeanor at the negotiating table.

Wen Chen took a deep breath, trying to adjust her expression back to a cold and hard one, and got up to open the door.

The door opened.

A strong, fishy smell, mixed with the scent of rainwater, wafted towards us.

Gu Moheng stood in the doorway, soaked to the bone. His expensive handmade cashmere coat, saturated with water, hung heavily, its color as dark as ink. Rainwater streamed down his sharp jawline, dripping onto the floor and spreading into a small, dark puddle.

He held his injured right hand in front of his body, but the outer gauze was still soaked through by the rain. Even in this disheveled state, the man's back remained ramrod straight, a testament to his ingrained upbringing and pride.

Gu Moheng stood on the doormat, greedily glancing at the warm yellow light inside, before his gaze cautiously landed on Wen Chen's face.

"I'm wet, so I won't go in." His voice was hoarse, trembling slightly from the cold wind. "The medicine has been delivered. Remember to drink the ginger tea while it's hot; it'll warm your stomach." After saying that, he actually made a move to turn around.

Wen Chen crossed her arms. "Gu Moheng," her voice was as cold as ice. "Come in."

Gu Moheng froze on the spot. He turned around, a quick glint flashing in his eyes, and even a barely perceptible smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"good."

He stepped inside, but simply stood on the dark gray dusting mat in the entryway, as if he had imprisoned himself within it.

Looking at his cautious and humble appearance, Wen Chen's anger not only did not subside, but burned even more fiercely.

"Take it off," Wen Chen ordered.

Gu Moheng paused for a moment, then obediently raised his hand to unbutton his collar. His left hand was stiff from the cold, and his movements were also difficult, so he fumbled around for several times without being able to unbutton it.

Wen Chen couldn't stand it any longer, so she strode forward and slapped his hand away. Her slender fingers, with a vengeful rudeness, deftly unbuttoned his coat. The heavy, wet coat was stripped off and casually hung on the coat rack by the door.

Gu Moheng was wearing only a thin white shirt underneath, the soaked fabric clinging to his skin and clearly outlining his firm and smooth muscle lines.

Wen Chen's fingertips accidentally brushed against his collarbone, causing him to flinch slightly at the cool touch.

"Are you stupid?" Wen Chen gritted her teeth, her eyes red with anger. "In this cold weather, you're only wearing a thin shirt underneath? I really don't know how you survived all these years abroad."

Gu Moheng looked down at Wen Chen, who was unbuttoning his shirt.

The two were very close together.

Gu Moheng was so close that he could smell the faint fragrance on Wen Chen's body, the scent he had longed for for eight years.

"I didn't expect to get off the bus."

Gu Moheng said softly, his gaze lingering on her, "I was thinking that I would leave after you turned off your light."

Wen Chen paused in her actions, looked up, and said, "You know I'm soft-hearted, so you deliberately staged this self-inflicted injury scene, right?"

Gu Moheng did not offer any explanation. He simply gazed quietly at Wen Chen with his deep, ocean-like eyes.

"If it's a ruse..."

Gu Moheng's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice low and resolute, "Then as long as you open the door, I'll consider myself the winner."

Wen Chen was speechless, choked by the words.

That madman. He's used all the cunning and calculations of the business world on himself.

Wen Chen shoved him into the makeshift bathroom attached to the studio, tossing him a dry towel and a set of unworn sportswear. "Get clean, don't give me your cold."

The bathroom door was closed.

Listening to the sound of water coming from inside, he felt that his solid defense was being eroded little by little by the flood named Gu Moheng.

Twenty minutes later.

Gu Moheng came out, wearing Wen Chen's gray tracksuit, the sleeves and pant legs a bit long. His hair was half-dry, hanging limply over his forehead, softening his usual sharpness and revealing a more domestic side. However, the gauze on his right hand, although covered with a waterproof bag during his shower, was still a little damp.

The color of blood was more pronounced.

Wen Chen sat on the sofa, with a first-aid kit on the coffee table.

"Sit down." Wen Chen gestured with his chin towards the seat opposite him.

Gu Moheng obediently sat down and handed over his right hand.

Wen Chen cut away the damp gauze. As the layers of gauze were peeled away, revealing the gruesome wound beneath, Wen Chen's pupils contracted sharply, and his lips pressed tightly together. The wound was deep, the flesh torn and rolled back, and the sutures resembled an ugly centipede crawling across the once slender and perfect back of his hand.

Wen Chen took out iodine, soaked a cotton swab in the solution, but unconsciously softened her movements.

"Scream if it hurts," he said coldly.

Gu Moheng stared intently at Wen Chen's lowered eyes, his gaze almost obsessive.

"It doesn't hurt," he said truthfully. Compared to the emptiness and pain in his heart that had persisted for the past eight years, this minor physical injury was almost a comfort. In fact, because Wen Chen was treating it, the pain even had a hint of sweetness.

Wen Chen ignored him, focusing intently on cleaning, applying medicine, and bandaging the wound. She was meticulous in every step, as if she were handling a precious architectural model.

Gu Moheng looked at the hands busy working on the back of his hand. They were the hands of an artist, clean, slender, and strong. How many times had these hands held his face, wrapped around his waist in the dead of night, and intertwined their fingers to promise each other forever?

"Wen Chen," Gu Moheng said involuntarily, his voice hoarse.

Wen Chen didn't even look up: "Shut up." He suddenly increased the pressure on his hands, tying the last knot tightly and fiercely.

Gu Moheng grunted, his brows furrowing slightly, but he didn't dodge.

Wen Chen threw away the discarded gauze, and when he looked up, his gaze had returned to its icy coldness: "Gu Moheng, don't push your luck." He stood up and looked down at him, "I let you come up here because you're injured. I didn't come here to reminisce with you."

The light in Gu Moheng's eyes dimmed slightly. He withdrew his hand, his fingertips tracing the poorly tied bow, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I know."

He knew that the thorn in Wen Chen's heart was still there.

If you get even a little too close, you'll be stabbed and bleed profusely.

But he wasn't afraid of pain; what he feared was not even having the chance to experience pain.

"I drank it."

Wen Chen pointed to the cup of ginger tea on the table, which was already warm.

It was bought by Gu Moheng, but now it has returned to Gu Moheng.

Gu Moheng picked up the cup, the spiciness of ginger mingling with the sweetness of brown sugar. It tasted awful; he hated ginger the most. But he tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp. His stomach warmed up, and even his icy limbs regained feeling.

"I'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight."

Wen Chen threw down a blanket, which he usually used for his afternoon nap, and said, "Get out of here first thing tomorrow morning."

After saying that, he turned and walked to the workbench, picking up the pencil again.

Gu Moheng hugged the blanket that carried the scent of Wen Chen and leaned against the corner of the sofa.

The studio was quiet, with only the sound of rain hitting the windows and the rustling of Wen Chen's pen tip across paper in the distance.

This long-lost tranquility brought tears to Gu Moheng's eyes. He gazed at Wen Chen's focused back. Under the lamplight, the figure was slender yet upright, like a tree that had grown alone in the wind and rain.

Gu Moheng silently swore in his heart: This time, I will not shelter you from the wind, nor protect you from the rain. I will only be the mud beneath your tree. Even if you trample me into the dust, I will still entwine my roots with yours until death.

Although Wen Chen had his back to him, he could clearly feel that burning gaze. His fingers tightened around the pen, but he didn't turn around. The wall in his heart, though cracked open, was being desperately padded with bricks, trying to close it again.

Don't believe him.

Wen Chen warned himself in his heart.

Once he believed it, he was doomed. But he didn't notice that one of the lines on his drawing was drawn crooked.

The morning sunlight pierced through the blinds, sweeping away the gloom of last night's downpour.

Gu Moheng was curled up on the cramped double sofa, his tall frame of 1.81 meters forced to tuck in his long legs, his knees almost touching his chest. His grey tracksuit, belonging to Wen Chen, revealed a section of his pale wrist. His right hand, wrapped in thick bandages, hung limply at the edge of the sofa.

He had woken up half an hour earlier, when the first rays of sunlight streamed in, but he remained quietly with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds coming from the inner office.

“哢哒”.

The sound of the electronic lock unlocking was exceptionally clear in the quiet space.

Gu Moheng slowed his breathing, his eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly, and he quickly adjusted himself to appear as if he were asleep and harmless.

Assistant Xiao Li and designer Da Liu entered. They were carrying hot soy milk and fried dough sticks, chatting and laughing quietly.

“Did Teacher Wen stay up all night last night? I see this light…” Xiao Li’s words stopped abruptly. He stared wide-eyed at the sofa in the reception area as if he had seen a ghost. Da Liu almost dropped the fried dough stick in his hand. On that cheap sofa, which was usually used to store odds and ends and occasionally for lunch breaks, lay a “god”.

Despite wearing ill-fitting, slightly comical sportswear, and despite his disheveled hair, they would recognize that deep-set profile with its sharply defined jawline even if it turned to ashes.

This is clearly Gu Moheng, the one who intimidated everyone at the construction site yesterday!

At this moment, they were like a large, homeless dog, pitifully huddled in their boss's territory.

Xiao Li and Da Liu exchanged a glance, both looking on in horror.

What was going on? The two men tacitly shut their mouths, even their breathing became soft. Neither dared to make a sound, much less disturb this "sleeping" financial tycoon. They tiptoed to the waiting chairs by the door, sat down neatly, like two little quails waiting for a teacher's scolding, occasionally exchanging glances that revealed their unspoken questions.

Before long, more and more quails were waiting at the door, but no one came forward.

Half an hour later, the door to the inner office opened.

Wen Chen walked out, rubbing his throbbing temples. He was still wearing the same shirt from last night, the collar open, revealing his delicate collarbone, and there were obvious dark circles under his eyes.

"So early today?" His voice was hoarse, not fully awake, and he instinctively reached for a glass of water.

When he looked up, his hand holding the water glass froze in mid-air; the scene before him could only be described as surreal.

By the door, a group of employees sat upright, eyes downcast, not daring to utter a sound.

A few steps away, the man who should have disappeared before dawn was brazenly occupying the public area. Gu Moheng was "sleeping" soundly, his brows slightly furrowed.

The morning light shone on his pale face, evoking a heartbreaking sense of vulnerability.

Wen Chen felt as if a string in her mind snapped, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the water glass.

"Gu, Mo, Heng." He squeezed out these three words through gritted teeth.

The person on the sofa seemed to have been startled.

Gu Moheng's eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes. His deep eyes were initially filled with confusion before focusing on Wen Chen's face.

"Hmm... good morning." The voice was husky and magnetic, as if the girl had just woken up, making the faces of the recent graduates standing at the door turn red.

He propped himself up and sat up, the movement aggravating his wound, causing him to furrow his brow almost imperceptibly.

"What time is it?" The tone was as natural as if he were at home, without any embarrassment at being watched.

Wen Chen sneered, her gaze sharp as a knife: "President Gu, you're sleeping so soundly, you don't even know the front door was taken down, do you?"

Gu Moheng seemed to only then notice the people sitting at the door. He turned his head and glanced over them indifferently. The "sleeping beauty" who had just been kind and gentle instantly changed his expression, his eyes filled with the aloofness and oppressiveness unique to those in power.

Xiao Li was so startled he almost stood up and saluted: "Good morning, Mr. Gu! Good morning, Teacher Wen!"

Gu Moheng withdrew his gaze and looked at Wen Chen again, his eyes softening. "The medicine is taking effect, I'm a little sleepy." He raised his right hand, which was wrapped up like a dumpling, his tone innocent yet self-righteous. "Besides, your blanket smells."

Wen Chen's brow twitched: "What's that smell?"

Gu Moheng stared straight at him, a faint smile curving his lips: "A reassuring scent."

Xiao Li, standing at the door, gasped in shock, wishing he could gouge out his own ears. Was this something I could hear for free?

Wen Chen's face instantly darkened.

"roll."

Wen Chen pointed to the gate, trying to make his voice sound cold and ruthless.

"Take your coat and get out now, immediately."

Gu Moheng remained calm and composed, slowly lifting the blanket and standing up. The gray tracksuit he wore somehow managed to give off a haute couture feel.

“Okay.” He obediently walked to the door and took down the black coat that had already dried.

As he passed by Xiao Li, he nodded slightly, his politeness impeccable, saying, "I'm sorry to have troubled you."

Xiao Li was flattered and shook his head vigorously.

After putting on his coat, Gu Moheng, standing a few meters away and ignoring the expressions on everyone's faces as they looked at him and Wen Chen, gave Wen Chen a deep look before turning and leaving.