Chapter 5 Reunion (5) Every step I took back was for...

The top-floor conference room of the Mosheng Capital Building.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows is the glittering cityscape atop the city, and the long, obsidian conference table gleams, reflecting the cold metallic light strips on the ceiling.

Wen Chen sat on one side of the long table, with project documents spread out in front of him.

Opposite him, seated at the head of the table, Gu Moheng was deeply slumped in the large leather chair. His charcoal gray bespoke suit accentuated his tall and imposing figure, and his shirt collar was tightly closed, just like his thin lips. He was like a sheathed blade, calm and collected, yet exuding a suffocating sense of oppression.

Those deep eyes were fixed on Wen Chen, so sharp that they seemed to be able to peel away and measure every inch of the changes he had undergone in the past eight years.

“Regarding the materials for the exterior walls of Zone B, I need a more cost-effective solution.” Gu Moheng’s voice was low and emotionless, like a machine cutting metal, precise and cold.

Wen Chen adjusted his glasses, swiped his finger across the tablet, and pulled up a set of data. "Mr. Gu, although the initial cost of the terracotta panels we chose is 7% higher than the aluminum panels you proposed, their self-cleaning and durable properties can save nearly 10% in costs over ten years during later maintenance."

“Most importantly,” Wen Chen raised her eyes, her gaze calmly meeting those unfathomable eyes, “the texture of clay best matches the warmth of the theme of ‘returning home’.”

Gu Moheng listened, his fingertips tapping lightly on the smooth tabletop. His gaze fell on the rendering, his slender fingers tracing sharp arcs in the air. "This central plaza, with its scattered outdoor rest areas... according to the golden rule of commercial real estate, it's all a fatal waste of the core area."

He withdrew his hand, his gaze sweeping over the silent executives present. "I think we should reduce this area by fifty percent and convert it entirely into leasable commercial spaces. Every square meter must generate visible profit. As for the reduced rest area, it can be moved to a less prime location."

The project director beside Gu Moheng immediately understood and projected a document onto the huge screen.

"According to our model calculations, if the exterior wall material is replaced with aluminum single panels and the public green area is reduced by 3%, the total project cost can be reduced by 4 percentage points, and the investment payback period is expected to be shortened by at least six months."

Wen Chen listened quietly, without immediately refuting Gu Moheng's point of view. Only after Gu Moheng finished speaking did she stand up.

This simple action instantly drew everyone's attention back to him. He walked to the projection screen, picked up the page turner, and switched the PowerPoint presentation.

On the screen were complex charts filled with functions and curves. "Mr. Gu's understanding of 'sales per square meter' is classic. But now we live in the information age, and the logic of consumption has changed."

"This is a dynamic cash flow forecasting model that I built based on pedestrian traffic data, consumption habits, and social media trends within a three-kilometer radius of the project site." He said calmly, the red dot of his page-turning pen moving precisely across the complex charts.

"The algorithmic basis of this model..."

Soon, an extremely complex financial model instantly overshadowed the cold data report. "The value of a successful commercial real estate project should not be estimated solely using a static discounted cash flow model."

Wen Chen's light gray cashmere cardigan looked out of place in this cold, hard space filled with dark suits.

"For projects with long-term growth potential and uncertainty, we should introduce the valuation logic of real options."

He turned around, his gaze piercing precisely into Gu Moheng's icy, expressionless face. "The 'sentiment' and 'warmth' in the plan, in the cold financial model, are precisely the biggest call option for this project. They give 'Homecoming' more options when dealing with market changes in the future. For example, transforming into a cultural community, or hosting large-scale art events, etc... These are long-term values ​​that aluminum panels and that three percent of green space cannot provide."

"The core of this model is a modified version of the Black-Scholes formula, used to calculate the potential future value of intangible assets."

"I remember the junior who taught me this model said something like—"

He paused deliberately, "The essence of finance is not a numbers game, but the pricing of the future."

The room full of elites, accustomed to crushing everything with numbers and models, wore expressions of undisguised astonishment.

A designer, in Mosheng's "home turf," used their proudest financial logic to leave their investment director speechless.

Everyone's gaze involuntarily drifted to the man in the main seat.

Gu Moheng didn't move. But in those unfathomable eyes, something solid was quietly crumbling with overwhelming force.

It wasn't the annoyance of being offended, but a burning, almost greedy desire. It was meticulously tracing Wen Chen's features—from his gentle eyebrows and eyes, to his straight nose, and then to those thin lips that uttered cold words, yet still held him in such deep affection.

He thought he had long since grown accustomed to the darkness. Only now did he realize that his little prince had merely concealed his light. And now, that light was piercing through layers of disguise, blooming anew, more dazzling than it had been eight years ago, more… making him want to possess it at all costs.

Inside the conference room, both teams held their breath. Two men, both top performers in different industries, were engaged in a fierce exchange using the calmest of words.

An hour and a half later, the meeting took a break.

The executives, relieved as if granted a pardon, quickly put away their documents and filed out, none daring to glance at the head of the table. The project director, bringing up the rear, hesitated for a moment before whispering a reminder: "Mr. Gu, the video conference with Europe this afternoon..."

"Postpone." Gu Moheng's gaze never left Wen Chen for even a second.

Wen Chen closed the document, stood up, and walked to the terrace connecting to the conference room, needing a moment to catch her breath.

The terrace was on the thirty-ninth floor, and the wind was strong, carrying the unique chill of the high altitude. Wen Chen leaned against the cold glass railing, looking down at the cars below, which appeared as tiny as matchboxes. The wind ruffled the stray hairs on his forehead, dispelling the suffocating tension in the conference room.

He heard extremely light footsteps behind him, and he could feel the gaze that almost set him ablaze, the hand at his side, its fingertips slightly curled. Wen Chen didn't turn around, but the familiar, faint scent of cedarwood had already irresistibly invaded the air around him. This scent, once his most comforting refuge in his youth, had now become a piercing reminder.

Gu Moheng stopped beside him, also gazing into the distance, with an arm's length between them.

This short half-arm spans eight years.

“You’ve changed a lot.” Gu Moheng said, his tone no longer as forceful as it had been in the conference room. His voice was somewhat rambling, carried by the wind, but beneath it lay an unspeakable undercurrent.

Wen Chen's lips curved into a very faint smile, his gaze still fixed on the building below. "People always have to grow up." Wen's tone was very soft, like a sigh melting into the wind, as he looked up at Gu Moheng, "After all, not everyone can be innocent forever."

Gu Moheng's face visibly paled.

“Black Scholes…” he murmured the name. “I remember when I taught you this, it was in a corner on the third floor of the library. The sun was shining brightly that afternoon, and later you found the formulas too boring and fell asleep on the table.”

Wen Chen's breathing became somewhat disordered by the wind blowing from the upper floors.

Those fragments of memory that he had deliberately buried deep in the dust over the past eight years were all ruthlessly unearthed by his casual remark.

He was about to step away from there.

"Wen Chen, so you're here." A gentle voice came from not far away.

Wen Chen looked in the direction of the voice, and the thin layer of ice in his eyes instantly melted away. The person who came was Li Zheming, a well-known architect who knew him well and was also a senior who admired him. He was wearing a camel-colored trench coat, holding two documents in his hand, and had a warm smile on his face.

"I've been looking for you for ages." Li Zheming walked naturally to Wen Chen's side and handed him one of the documents. "This is the catalog of the new Milan exhibition that I mentioned to you last time. I just got it through someone."

"Thank you for your trouble, Brother Li." Wen Chen smiled as she accepted the gift, her attitude gentle and sincere. She was a completely different person from when she was with Gu Moheng.

Li Zheming then noticed Gu Moheng standing next to Wen Chen, paused for a moment, and nodded politely: "President Gu."

Gu Moheng nodded very slightly, his expression blank, but his gaze was like a poisoned hook, fixed on the hand that Li Zheming had placed on Wen Chen's shoulder.

Li Zheming was completely unaware of this. He turned to Wen Chen and extended an invitation: "By the way, there's an architecture exhibition this weekend, wanna come?"

Wen Chen flipped through the picture book and smiled when she heard this, "Great, I was just thinking of going to take a look."

"It's settled then, Saturday at 3 pm."

"Um."

The two chatted and laughed as if no one else was around, their atmosphere familiar and intimate.

Gu Moheng stood silently to one side, without uttering a word. The air pressure around him suddenly plummeted to freezing point. Even the wind at the thirty-ninth floor felt like sharp knives cutting into his bare skin.

Li Zheming finally sensed that something was wrong, subconsciously withdrew his hand, and smiled politely at Gu Moheng: "Then you two talk, I'll go in first."

Wen Chen nodded: "Okay."

Li Zheming turned and left. The glass door of the terrace slowly closed, shutting out the warm light in the conference room, leaving only two figures facing each other and the silent flow of the city's starry sky below.

The air was eerily quiet.

Gu Moheng broke the silence, turning around and casting a heavy shadow in front of Wen Chen with his tall figure.

“Designer Wen,” he began, his voice even colder than it had been in the conference room, “has a wide circle of friends.”

Wen Chen looked up. "Mr. Gu, you flatter me. It was just normal industry exchange." His tone was polite but distant.

Gu Moheng took a step closer, shortening the distance between them. That familiar scent, without warning, invaded Wen Chen's breath.

"Industry networking?" Gu Moheng chuckled softly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Does that include arranging to go to an exhibition together?"

Wen Chen's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He took a half step back, his back pressed against the cold glass railing, with nowhere left to retreat.

“Mr. Gu.” He lowered his head slightly, looking directly into those eyes in the night. “My private schedule doesn’t seem to fall within the scope of our work that requires ‘individual reports’.”

These words were like a heavy hammer blow, striking Gu Moheng's heart with tremendous force. A dense, throbbing pain shot through him, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Gu Moheng suddenly stretched out his other hand and slammed it heavily against the glass railing beside Wen Chen! With a muffled thud, the sturdy tempered glass seemed to tremble. An absolutely dominant posture completely confined Wen Chen between him and the cold barrier.

The wind, blowing even more fiercely into the cramped space between the two, came from thirty-nine stories above.

"Wen Chen." Gu Moheng lowered his head, almost touching his earlobe, and spoke each word slowly and deliberately. His breath was scorching, like a branding iron.

"Every step I take back is to walk towards you."

Wen Chen's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.

Gu Moheng's dark eyes surged with the obsession and madness that had been suppressed for eight years.

“This time,” his voice was deeper, with an undeniable resolve, “you can’t escape.”

Wen Chen pressed his back even closer to the cold glass behind him. The chill was biting, but it instantly sobered him up. The meticulously crafted mental defenses that Gu Moheng had built over eight years made a soft "click" at that moment.

The lock has been closed.

He looked up, his eyes revealing a cold and serene demeanor honed over eight years.

A gentle smile, as always, curved his lips, like a spring breeze in March, capable of melting away all the ice in the world. Yet, it could not warm the heart so close to him.

“President Gu,” his voice was soft, carried by the wind, yet each word was clear and pierced Gu Moheng’s ears.

"The reunion drama after a long separation is not suitable for us."

a long time.

Gu Moheng slowly withdrew the almost out-of-control oppressive feeling, took a step back, and restored a safe distance.

"Break time is over." He said this, turned around, and walked back to the conference room without looking back.

Wen Chen leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the icy air. The breath was sharp as shards of glass, cutting into his internal organs and causing them to ache.

The meeting continued.

The atmosphere was even more tense than before. Gu Moheng didn't raise any further objections to the design details, but his gaze, which seemed to pierce through people, never left Wen Chen.

The meeting lasted until 7 p.m., well past dinnertime.

A sharp, throbbing pain shot through Wen Chen's stomach. Without flinching, he pressed his left hand against it, his fingertips applying slight pressure, trying to ease the discomfort. This subtle movement was precisely observed by the man in the main seat.

"That's all for today." Gu Moheng closed the document without warning and announced the end of the meeting.

Wen Chen breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to get up, his assistant Qin Shu strode over.

"Designer Wen." Qin Shu handed over a thermos and a small box of medicine with both hands, her attitude as respectful as when she treated Gu Moheng. "President Gu asked me to prepare these for you: warm milk and stomach medicine."

Wen Chen froze. Most of the people in the conference room had left, with only a few still tidying up. All the subtle gazes were focused on him. He looked up at the man who had already reached the door and was whispering something to his subordinate. Gu Moheng didn't turn around, but the tense lines of his back betrayed his concern.

Wen Chen withdrew his gaze and gave Qin Shu a polite but distant smile. "No need to trouble yourself, thank you for your concern, Mr. Gu." He pushed away the thermos.

Underground parking garage.

The crisp sound of Wen Chen's footsteps echoed in the empty space.

He pressed his car key, and a white SUV in the distance flashed its lights twice. But when he reached his parking space, he suddenly stopped. His car was completely blocked by an illegally parked van, leaving not a single gap.

There was no phone number left on the car window to ask for a replacement. Wen Chen frowned and took out her phone to contact the property management.

The deep roar of the engine grew louder as the black Maybach silently slid up to him like a lurking beast. The driver's side window slowly rolled down, revealing Gu Moheng's sharply defined profile.

"Get in the car." Gu Moheng's gaze swept over the truck blocking the road, and his thin lips parted slightly: "It will take at least an hour for the property management to find the owner. Getting to the construction site from here will take an hour and a half even without traffic."

Are you planning to go home tonight?

He effectively shut down all of Wen Chen's possible escape routes. This man even knew his schedule to go to the construction site perfectly.

The underground parking garage was empty and deathly silent, with only the deep rumble of the Maybach engine pounding against Wen Chen's eardrums.

Wen Chen didn't answer immediately, silently watching the man in the driver's seat, his profile appearing even more profound and sharp in the light and shadow. The nausea in her stomach began to churn again.

He calmly put his hands in his pockets, pressed his knuckles firmly against his stomach, and his face remained impeccably gentle.

Just then—

Two blinding high beams approached from afar. A black minivan smoothly drove up and stopped a short distance away. The window rolled down, and the assistant, Xiao Li, peered out. "Teacher Wen! What are you doing here?"

The project manager also leaned out of the passenger seat, and when he saw the strange standoff in front of him, he was stunned.

A truck stuck in traffic, a top-of-the-line Maybach parked next to it, and Wen Chen, who was sandwiched in the middle and looked a little pale.

"Teacher Wen, what is this...?" The project manager frowned.

Wen Chen's tense back relaxed almost imperceptibly. He turned around and gave his colleague a reassuring smile: "The car is stuck in traffic, I'm just about to contact the property management."

"Who is this person with such poor manners!" Xiao Li exclaimed in anger, immediately getting out of the car. "Teacher Wen, how long are we going to wait? Why don't you get in our car first? We'll take you to the construction site, and I'll come back later to get your car and take it there!"

A note from the author:

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