Chapter 46 Heading Forward (1) Relax, they don't eat people. ...

The once impeccably organized walk-in closet, resembling a luxury goods display case, now resembled a battlefield ruin. Dozens of bespoke suits and casual wear lay scattered across the floor, custom-made leather shoes lay askew, and the former elegance and sophistication were completely gone.

The billionaire CEO, Gu, stood shirtless in front of a full-length mirror, his brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly. He clutched a dark blue shirt in his hand, held it up to his chest a couple of times, and then tossed it irritably into the pile of "junk."

"The color is too dark, it looks gloomy." He turned around and pulled a khaki trench coat from the closet. His fingertips had barely touched the fabric when he shook his head before even putting it on. "Too casual, not dignified enough."

Wen Chen leaned against the doorframe of the walk-in closet, arms crossed, holding a steaming cup of Americano. The rising steam blurred the smile in his eyes. "Gu Moheng," he said lazily, taking a sip of his coffee, "you're going to meet my parents for a home-cooked meal, not to walk the runway in Cannes."

Gu Moheng's back stiffened, and he turned around. His eyes were dark and swollen, clearly from not sleeping all night, and his face and eyes were bloodshot.

"That's different."

Gu Moheng's voice was tense, "Because of what happened eight years ago, it already left a bad impression on my uncle and aunt."

He took a deep breath, his broad chest heaving violently, filled with barely suppressed anxiety: "If I mess this up again, I really won't have another chance."

Wen Chen put down her coffee cup and strode into the mess. Her slender hand glided across a row of neatly hung clothes hangers. Finally, it stopped on a light gray cashmere sweater and a pair of soft, off-white casual pants.

"Wear this." Wen Chen took off the clothes and handed them to Gu Moheng.

Gu Moheng paused for a moment, then took the seemingly harmless sweater. His thin frame was still slightly hunched. "Isn't this... a bit too casual? It's my first formal visit. Does wearing this make it seem like I don't value you?"

“People who paint like my mother don’t like things with sharp edges.”

Wen Chen raised her hand, her fingertips lightly touching Gu Moheng's sharp brow bone, the warmth of her fingertips passing through his skin. "You usually have too strong an aura. When you wear a suit, it looks like you're taking over my house. Wearing this makes you look gentler and less aggressive."

Without a word, Gu Moheng immediately put on the sweater. The gray cashmere against his skin instantly softened his cold, elite aura, making him appear much gentler, even the fierceness in his eyes softened a bit.

Wen Chen took two steps forward. Gu Moheng subconsciously held his breath, his hands obediently hanging at his sides, his back straight, so docile it was unbelievable, completely lacking the ruthless decisiveness he usually displayed in the business world.

Wen Chen smiled faintly, reaching out to straighten Gu Moheng's slightly rolled-up collar. Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against his prominent collarbone, the cool touch causing a subtle warmth to rise on that skin.

"Wen Chen..." Gu Moheng's breath hitched.

"Don't move."

Wen Chen's voice was calm, and without even lifting his eyelids, he focused on adjusting the curve of his collar. After tidying it up, he took a half step back and looked her up and down.

"Alright, he seems like a reliable and good person now."

Gu Moheng: "..." Although his words were awkward, his tense shoulders relaxed noticeably, and most of the anxiety in his eyes dissipated.

If Wen Chen says it's okay, then it definitely will be okay.

The two walked out of the dressing room, where exquisite gift boxes were neatly stacked on the coffee table in the living room. These were the "results" of Gu Moheng's week-long preparation, each one meticulously crafted.

"This is Pu'er tea for my uncle. It's an old tea cake from the auction at the beginning of the year. It has a mellow and sweet taste and won't upset your stomach," Gu Moheng said, pointing to the antique ebony box.

Wen Chen glanced at it; it was something that was priceless and unavailable. He gave a soft "hmm": "The old man likes this kind of thing. You've found the perfect one."

“These are limited edition German handmade watercolor paints for your aunt. I specifically asked a painter I’m on good terms with, and he said that the pigments in this brand are very fine, so she should be able to use them easily.” Gu Moheng then pointed to the exquisite tin box next to him.

“And…” His voice suddenly lowered, his fingers repeatedly caressing the last flat brocade box, but he hesitated to open it, a thin blush creeping up his ears.

Wen Chen raised an eyebrow, walked over with interest, and reached out to take it: "What else?"

Gu Moheng pursed his lips, his eyes flickering, as if he found it difficult to speak.

"And... one more painting."

Gu Moheng subconsciously pressed down on the box. "Um... it's not drawn well."

"You're in finance, do you expect me to paint at Monet's level?" Wen Chen chuckled, and with a slight effort, pulled the box from his hand.

Opening the box, I found a small, exquisitely framed painting inside. There were no grand landscapes or complex compositions, just an old-fashioned courtyard covered in wisteria blossoms. The brushstrokes were noticeably immature, and the lines not entirely fluid, yet the handling of light and shadow was incredibly gentle, as if the afternoon sun had been locked onto the paper.

Wen Chen recognized it at a glance as the courtyard of the Gu family's old residence. During their passionate courtship, he had gone back once with Gu Moheng, just as the wisteria was in full bloom, its pale purple flower spikes hanging down the pergola, rustling in the wind.

Gu Moheng awkwardly explained in a low voice, "I bought the house back and plan to renovate it exactly as it was before..."

His Adam's apple bobbed, and the second half of his sentence got stuck in his throat. He then awkwardly added, "I practiced for a month, and this is the best one I've ever drawn. Your mother is a professional; I'm just showing off my limited skills..." As he spoke, he reached out to take it back.

"Don't move."

Wen Chen's voice was soft, her gaze fixed on the painting, lingering there for a long time. Those fragmented memories, buried by time, welled up little by little, carried by the fragrance of the wisteria blossoms in the painting. That warm afternoon, the trellis full of wisteria, and the light in young Gu Moheng's eyes that shone brighter than the sunlight.

Wen Chen slowly closed the lid, carefully placing this weighty sentiment back in its place. When he looked up, the turmoil in his eyes had subsided. He reached out and gently brushed aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen across Gu Moheng's forehead, the movement as natural as if he had done it a thousand times before.

"Not bad." Wen Chen paused, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Let's go."

Gu Moheng stood frozen for two seconds. By the time he reacted, Wen Chen had already grabbed his coat and headed towards the entrance. He immediately picked up the pile of gift boxes and hurried after him, his steps light and quick: "You're here!"

The mirrored carriage reflected their figures side by side. Gu Moheng quietly turned his head, his gaze fixed on Wen Chen's profile. The anxiety that had been tormenting him earlier had now subsided considerably.

Wen Chen stared at the fluctuating floor numbers in front of him, as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

"What are you looking at?"

Gu Moheng withdrew his gaze, the corners of his mouth unable to be turned up, the smile in his eyes impossible to hide: "Look at the light."

-

The Maybach came to a smooth stop outside the ornate iron gate of the detached villa. The snow in the yard had been swept away, revealing the bluestone path. The winter plum blossoms on both sides were in full bloom, their tender yellow petals covered with a thin layer of frost, and their delicate fragrance wafted through the cold air.

Gu Moheng's fingers stiffened as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Wen Chen noticed but didn't say anything, pushing open the car door and getting out first. A biting gust of cold wind instantly rushed into his collar, and he instinctively shrank his neck, standing by the car as he watched the man inside adjust his collar for the third time in the rearview mirror.

"If you keep messing with it, you'll tear the sweater out of shape." Wen Chen said casually, one hand in his trench coat pocket.

Gu Moheng paused, immediately withdrew his hand, picked up the large and small gift boxes, walked around the front of the car, and quickly walked to his side: "Let's go."

Wen Chen strode forward, his eyes constantly fixed on his side. As he changed his shoes in the entryway, he couldn't help but let his lips twitch subtly. Gu Moheng, this financial tycoon of immeasurable value, was at that very moment, awkwardly stepping into the Wen family's doorstep.

"What's wrong?" Gu Moheng noticed Wen Chen stop, his body tensed, and his eyes instantly filled with panic. "Was it me...?"

"It's alright." Wen Chen raised her hand and lightly patted his tense forearm with her palm. "Relax, they don't eat people."

The house was warmly heated, and as soon as the door was opened, the aroma of food mixed with a faint scent of ink wafted out. Mr. and Mrs. Wen were sitting on the sofa talking, and when they saw the two of them enter, their eyes turned to them.

Wen's father, wearing reading glasses and holding a newspaper in his hand, glanced over the top of his glasses and landed on Gu Moheng.

Gu Moheng completely abandoned his composure at the negotiating table. He stepped forward, his posture almost pious, his voice strained: "Uncle, Aunt, good weekend."

Mother Wen put down her teacup, her gaze first falling on Gu Moheng's somewhat awkward face, then turning to her son, a hint of a smile flashing in her eyes. She stood up and greeted him, "You're here, why bring so much stuff? It's too formal."

As she spoke, she stepped aside to let the two of them in: "Come in and sit down, it's freezing outside, you must be shivering!"

Gu Moheng quickly shook his head and carefully placed the gift boxes on the coffee table one by one.

"This is Pu'er tea for my uncle; it's an old tea cake that I specially found."

"These are paints for you. I heard you like handicrafts, so I asked someone to find this set for you."

Finally, his hand stopped on the brocade box, his fingertips slightly white. After hesitating for two seconds, he handed the brocade to Wen's mother with both hands, his head slightly lowered: "This is... a clumsy piece I doodled in my spare time." Gu Moheng's Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice lowered, "I'm just showing it off."

Wen's mother was somewhat surprised, but she took the box and opened it. The wisteria trellis on the drawing paper was dappled with light and shadow. Although the technique was a bit rough and the perspective was not handled very skillfully, the unique warmth and tranquility of a winter afternoon overflowed through the clumsy brushstrokes, showing that the artist had put a lot of thought into it.

Mrs. Wen was an expert; she saw right through the painting and understood the artist's intentions. Her fingertips gently traced a corner of the paper; the paper was fine, the mounting exquisite—clearly, it had been carefully crafted. A gentle smile gradually spread across her face: "You painted this?"

Gu Moheng tensed up even more, his Adam's apple bobbing as he replied, "Yes... it's not very well drawn, please excuse me."

"The technique may be immature, but the artistic conception is wonderful." Wen's mother smiled and handed the painting to Wen's father. "Look at this light, how gentle it is. This child has a calm mind, he doesn't seem like a profit-driven businessman."

Gu Moheng's shoulders relaxed, his back almost soaked with cold sweat. He subconsciously turned to Wen Chen.

Wen Chen's gaze met his for a moment, then looked away, but the corners of her lips curled up almost imperceptibly, and a smile was hidden in her eyes.

"Let's eat." Mother Wen put away the painting and invited everyone to sit down.

The restaurant was bathed in warm yellow light, the soft glow creating a relaxing atmosphere. The dishes on the table were all home-style: sweet and sour pork ribs, steamed fish, and stir-fried vegetables, all steaming hot and fragrant, whetting the appetite.

Gu Moheng sat beside Wen Chen, his back ramrod straight like a javelin, his hands resting neatly on his knees, even his breathing becoming softer. Faced with a table full of delicacies, he seemed to be facing a formidable enemy, his hand holding the chopsticks hanging in mid-air, unsure of where to put it.

"Moheng," Wen's father took a sip of wine, put down his cup, and suddenly asked, "I heard your company is currently pushing forward with an old city redevelopment project?"

Gu Moheng immediately put down the chopsticks he had just picked up, leaned forward slightly, and said respectfully with a solemn expression, "Yes, Uncle. The core plan for the project is to preserve the original cultural fabric and historical buildings of the old city, and then appropriately introduce commercial activity and improve infrastructure. It is not about large-scale demolition and construction, but rather to strive to achieve a balance between protection and development."

His answers were clear, concise, and his professionalism was beyond question; at that moment, he was every bit the elite at the negotiating table.

Mr. Wen nodded, didn't ask any further questions, and picked up his chopsticks to take a bite of food.

Wen Chen lowered his head and took a sip of soup. The warm broth slid down his throat, masking the complex emotions swirling in his eyes. He put down his spoon, the porcelain clinking together with a crisp sound.

"Dad, just eat properly. Don't make it like a project review meeting. It's scary."

Mr. Wen glared at his son and snorted, "Can't we even have a casual chat?"

Wen Chen ignored her father's complaints, picked up the serving chopsticks, took a piece of brightly colored sweet and sour pork ribs, and put it in Gu Moheng's bowl.

Gu Moheng's eyes suddenly lit up, as if a light had suddenly shone in. He looked up at Wen Chen, his eyes filled with warmth.

"Eat." Wen Chen put down her chopsticks, not looking at him, but staring at the rice in her own bowl, and said in a softer voice, "If you don't eat now, the food will get cold."