Chapter 41 Glimmer (10) Late-night snack service should also be included...

Mosheng Capital, rooftop office.

The snow was still falling outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, enveloping the entire city in a vast expanse of white.

The air pressure inside was terrifyingly low.

Qin Shu stood in front of his desk, clutching a stack of documents that urgently needed to be signed, barely daring to breathe. His boss had been staring at his phone screen for a full ten minutes.

Those deep eyes, which could see through the smallest details and act decisively at the negotiating table, now revealed a rare...hesitation?

Gu Moheng's brows were tightly furrowed.

"President Gu?" Qin Shu called out, forcing a smile.

Gu Moheng suddenly looked up, his eyes as sinister as a wild beast disturbed from its meal. "Get out," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

Qin Shu felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He put down the documents and turned to leave, not daring to ask a single question about the multi-million dollar project.

The office door closed again, shutting out the whispers outside.

Gu Moheng took a deep breath and looked back at the pinned chat box. He stared at the screen, typing and deleting words repeatedly in the chat box.

The note is simply two words: 【温晨】.

Since receiving the "seal" that day, their relationship seemed to have entered a delicate period of easing. But he dared not be rash, fearing that the hard-won "observation period" would be cut short before it even began.

His fingers hovered above the screen, a fine layer of cold sweat seeping from his palms. Gu Moheng took a deep breath, as if making a firm decision, and pressed the send button.

"Um... I asked Qin Shu to buy tickets online, but the system seemed to lag a bit. It bought an extra ticket for tonight's 8 PM movie. It's a shame to throw it away. Are you free tonight?"

After sending the message, he placed his phone face down on the table, his heart pounding in his chest.

That's so clumsy. He actually used an excuse that even a newly hired intern wouldn't believe on Wen Chen.

"Buzz—"

Reply instantly.

Gu Moheng grabbed his phone almost like he was being launched into the air.

Wen Chen: [Wasn't it intentional?]

Wen Chen: [Since it's a misunderstanding, there's probably no sincerity involved. I have a drawing to do tonight, so I'm busy.]

Gu Moheng looked at the "Oh" with a tilde on it, and even through the phone screen, he could almost see Wen Chen's foxy eyes that seemed to be smiling but not smiling.

They saw through them, and were exposed without any mercy.

Gu Moheng gritted his teeth. What did he care about saving face at this point?

All of Gu's prestige and the burden of being an elite are worthless in front of Wen Chen.

He typed rapidly, his fingertips pressing so hard they almost pierced the screen.

I did it on purpose.

I'd like to ask you out.

[There's no Qin Shu, and no card system. It's just that I desperately wanted to watch a movie with you.]

Please.

The message "The other party is typing..." at the top of the dialog box flashed for a long time.

Every second felt like torture for Gu Moheng.

Finally, the message popped up.

This will not be repeated.

See you in the basement at 7 PM.

Gu Moheng breathed a sigh of relief, slumped back in his chair, and grinned wildly at the corners of his mouth.

The winter night was bitterly cold, but the movie theater was warm and filled with the sweet smell of popcorn.

Gu Moheng doesn't eat sweets, but he was holding a large bucket of caramel popcorn. Someone once said that popcorn is a ritual for watching movies.

The film he specifically chose was "You at the End of Time." Online reviews say it's the most tear-jerking drama of the year, a story of reconciliation after a broken relationship, with a happy ending, perfect for couples to rekindle their romance.

The lights in the theater dimmed.

Gu Moheng wasn't paying attention to the big screen; his peripheral vision was constantly on the person beside him. Wen Chen watched somewhat absentmindedly, holding the popcorn Gu Moheng had forced on him, occasionally popping a piece into his mouth.

The flickering light from the screen fell on Wen Chen's face, and his eyes, which always carried a distant smile, were now as still as a stagnant pool.

The movie has reached its climax.

The male protagonist roared in the pouring rain: "Do you know how I've lived these past three years? Every single day has been like living hell!"

The theater was filled with sobs, and the little girl in the front row was crying her eyes out.

Gu Moheng's heart skipped a beat, and he was about to hand over a tissue to show her the patch. But then he heard a very soft, chilling sneer from beside him.

Turning to look at Wen Chen, he saw only Wen Chen's icy profile. In the dim light reflected from the screen, Gu Moheng could clearly see a mocking smile curving the corners of Wen Chen's mouth.

"Three years..."

Wen Chen's voice was low: "Only three years."

Gu Moheng's hand, which was handing over a tissue, froze in mid-air.

In that instant, he felt as if the heating in the theater had stopped working, and a bone-chilling cold crept up his spine.

Between him and Wen Chen lay a full eight years, nearly three thousand days and nights.

For the next half hour, Gu Moheng felt like he was sitting on pins and needles. Wen Chen stared quietly at the screen, her empty gaze making him uneasy.

When the show ended, Wen Chen got up and left, leaving behind a lonely pile of popcorn.

On the way back to the apartment, the air pressure inside the car was frighteningly low.

"Wen Chen, I..."

Gu Moheng gripped the steering wheel, veins bulging on the back of his hands. He wanted to explain, but found that any words seemed inadequate.

Wen Chen turned his head to look at the fleeting snow scene outside the window, his indifferent eyebrows and eyes reflected in the glass.

"Focus on driving."

When we arrived at the apartment building, the elevator numbers jumped one by one, and the silence in the narrow space was deafening.

"bite--"

We've reached the top floor.

Wen Chen stepped out of the elevator and headed straight for the bedroom.

Gu Moheng followed behind him, his steps hesitant. "Wen Chen, I didn't choose the right movie tonight..."

Wen Chen interrupted him, her hand on the doorknob, her back to Gu Moheng, "Goodnight."

"Bang!"

The door slammed shut mercilessly right in front of Gu Moheng's nose. The jolt felt like a blow to his heart. Standing before the closed door, Gu Moheng stared at the cold wood grain, a growing panic spreading through his eyes.

Wen Chen got angry.

It wasn't the angry outburst that frightened him most; it was the silence.

Fear gripped him like vines, and Gu Moheng paced back and forth in the living room, wanting to knock on the door but afraid of annoying Wen Chen even more.

I want to send a text message, but I'm afraid it will disappear without a trace.

what to do?

He had to do something.

Gu Moheng took out his phone and typed in the search bar: "How to coax an angry boyfriend into opening his mouth?"

The terms that popped up were all sorts of things.

Suddenly, a short video caught his attention.

...

Half an hour later, the same-city delivery guy, panting, brought a package to the door.

Gu Moheng opened the package as if grasping at a straw, sat on the living room carpet, clumsily put on the label, and recorded the voice.

Everything is ready.

Gu Moheng took a deep breath and walked to the door of Wen Chen's room.

"Thump, thump." He knocked twice, with very light force.

There was no movement inside.

"Wen Chen," Gu Moheng's voice was low and husky, "I have something for you."

Still nothing.

Gu Moheng's Adam's apple bobbed, and he lowered his stance to nothingness. "I'll just take a look, and then I'll leave."

A long time passed.

The door lock made a soft "click".

Wen Chen opened the door, wearing dark gray pajamas, her hair slightly disheveled, her eyes cold.

When Gu Moheng saw that he had finally opened the door, he silently took a step back to the side, revealing four colorful buttons on the carpet.

It's red, and it has an angry face painted on it.

Yellow, with a rice bowl drawn on it.

It's blue and has a speech bubble drawn on it.

It's green, and it's decorated with a hug.

Wen Chen frowned, looking at the pile of colorful plastic with confusion. "What is this?"

Gu Moheng squatted down and gently pressed the red button with his slender fingers.

"I was wrong." The button immediately played Gu Moheng's recorded voice, which sounded a little pitiful.

He pressed the blue one again.

"Please listen to me." Her voice was full of grievance.

Wen Chen's expression froze instantly, a crack appearing on her previously indifferent demeanor, revealing a hint of surprise.

Gu Moheng raised his head, his usually ruthless eyes now filled with cautious flattery.

"I know you don't want to talk to me."

Gu Moheng pointed to the buttons, "If you're angry, press the red one. If you're hungry, press the yellow one."

"Just press the button, and I'll know what to do. Don't ignore me... okay?"

The air in the corridor seemed to freeze.

Wen Chen looked down at the man who was squatting at her feet, fiddling with the pet toys. A bittersweet feeling welled up inside her, overshadowing her initial anger.

Wen Chen lifted her foot and gently kicked the green button with the toes of her slipper-clad foot.

"hug."

The recording played in the hallway.

Gu Moheng's eyes suddenly lit up, and he was about to get up.

Wen Chen took a half step back, crossed her arms, and looked at him with a half-smile, "Gu Moheng, are you really treating me like a cat?"

Gu Moheng squatted on the ground, his knees a little numb from bending for so long. He looked up at Wen Chen, and the question, "Do you treat me like a cat?" tickled his heart like a feather.

He slowly stood up, supporting himself on the floor, but his back was slightly hunched, deliberately softening his sharp edges. "If it's about training a pet, then I'm the one waiting to be pitied..."

Wen Chen looked at him, her eyes behind her glasses as deep as ink, unmoved by his almost shameful confession, not even the curve of her lips changed.

Gu Moheng's heart sank lower and lower. Just when he thought that tonight would end here, Wen Chen suddenly moved. He took a step toward the green button, but then kicked it with the tip of his shoe.

"Hug me." The voice rang out again.

"Since you've designed the rules," Wen Chen said, spreading his arms wide, his expression as calm as if he were inspecting a project, "then execute them."

Gu Moheng's pupils contracted sharply, and a huge surprise exploded in his mind like fireworks, causing his brain, which had been working meticulously in the business world for many years, to freeze instantly. He almost stumbled and rushed over.

He showed none of his usual composure; in fact, he was so rushed that he wrinkled the carpet beneath his feet.

He tightened his arms around the person in front of him, pulling him tightly into his embrace.

"Ugh..." Wen Chen groaned as he was being squeezed, his brows furrowing slightly.

Gu Moheng seemed not to hear, burying his face in Wen Chen's neck.

"Wen Chen... Wen Chen..." He murmured the name over and over again, his eyes slightly moist, his warm breath spraying onto Wen Chen's sensitive neck skin.

Wen Chen let him hug her, her hands hanging at her sides. She neither hugged back nor pushed him away, and stood quietly.

A long time passed.

"Too tight." Wen Chen's voice rang in Gu Moheng's ear, cold and indifferent. "Are you trying to strangle the client?"

Gu Moheng stiffened, and his rationality finally returned with difficulty. He loosened his grip somewhat, but his hands remained stubbornly clasped around Wen Chen's waist, refusing to completely pull away.

"I'm sorry... Did I hurt you?" Wen Chen's words were like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the flame of delusion that had just ignited in Gu Moheng's heart.

Wen Chen lowered her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the row of colorful buttons on the floor. Then, she lifted her foot again.

The yellow button was pressed.

I'm hungry.

Wen Chen withdrew her foot and turned to walk towards the living room: "Since we're accumulating points, shouldn't the late-night snack service be included?"

Wen Chen's voice drifted over, "I want noodles, no scallions, and the egg should be half-cooked."

Gu Moheng stood there, looking at the tall, slender figure, and said, "Okay."

Soon, the sound of running water could be heard from the kitchen.

Gu Moheng took off his expensive handmade coat, leaving him in only a crisp white shirt. The cuffs were unbuttoned, and the sleeves were neatly rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms, with bluish veins faintly visible beneath his pale skin.

He skillfully chopped the tomatoes with practiced ease.

Wen Chen leaned against the kitchen door frame, holding a glass of warm water in her hand.

Under the lights, Gu Moheng wore an ill-fitting apron, creating a striking contrast. "If those people on Wall Street saw Mr. Gu using his hands to chop vegetables, they'd be shocked."

Wen Chen took a sip of water, her tone neither praising nor criticizing.

Gu Moheng's hands didn't stop moving; the water in the pot boiled, and white steam rose up.

“Making it for someone else would be a waste,” Gu Moheng put the noodles into the pot, turned his head, and locked Wen Chen in his deep eyes through the mist. “Making it for you is more than worth it.”

Wen Chen raised an eyebrow.

He put down his water glass, took a few steps closer, and his gaze fell on Gu Moheng's right hand holding the chopsticks, where there was a faint scar.

"How did you do that?" Wen Chen asked.

Gu Moheng froze for a moment, a very faint bitter smile appearing on his lips.

"When I first went abroad, I worked illegally in a Chinese restaurant to save money."

"It was my first time in the kitchen, and I was so clumsy that I got splashed with hot oil."

Wen Chen's gaze lingered on the scar for two seconds before quickly looking away.

Five minutes later, two steaming bowls of tomato and egg noodles were served. There were no fancy side dishes, the soup was bright red, and the eggs were fried until the edges were golden brown, just the soft-boiled kind that Wen Chen liked best.

The two sat facing each other.

Wen Chen picked up her chopsticks, lifted a strand of noodles, blew on it, and put it in her mouth.

Gu Moheng didn't touch his chopsticks, but clasped his hands together on the table and watched Wen Chen eat.

Wen Chen ate very politely, her cheeks puffing out slightly as she chewed, like a hamster hoarding food, which softened her usual aloofness.

"Not eating?" Wen Chen didn't look up.

"I'm not hungry."

Gu Moheng didn't eat much that day, but he couldn't bear to look away. Watching Wen Chen eat what he had made, the sense of satisfaction was stronger than anything else. It gave him the illusion that the eight blank years hadn't existed, that they were still a loving couple, having dinner together on an ordinary winter night.

This warm illusion made him feel somewhat elated.

The snow outside the window continued to fall, gradually turning the world white. And inside this apartment, the ice that had remained frozen for eight years began to melt, drop by drop, on this winter night.