Chapter 52 Heading Towards (7) No gossip, thank you for your cooperation. ...

At 3 PM, at the press conference venue.

Long lenses and short lenses were already set up, the sound of shutters clicking incessantly, and flashes illuminating the hall as if it were daytime. A tense atmosphere hung in the air. The reporters' eyes were sharp; they were clearly waiting for a major news story that would ignite public opinion.

Wen Chen walked onto the stage alone. His steps were composed, and the suit made him look both professional and aloof.

The PowerPoint presentation lit up on the large screen behind him, showcasing the latest phase results of the "Homecoming" project.

"The essence of architecture is the dialogue between people and space, and the connection between the past and the future." Wen Chen's voice, clear and steady, resonated throughout the venue through the microphone. He pointed to the huge design drawing behind him, an old building reborn from ruins, a blend of old and new, just like his relationship with Gu Moheng.

Although the reporters in the audience were listening and taking notes, their eyes kept glancing backstage, clearly indicating that their true intentions were elsewhere.

Finally, it was time for the Q&A session.

A bespectacled male reporter stood up first, speaking very quickly: "Mr. Wen, we have no doubt about your professional competence. But what the public is more concerned about is the Weibo post you made last night."

The entire venue fell silent instantly, and all the cameras were focused on Wen Chen's face.

"Does the ring in your photo, and that 'President Gu' person, imply that you have an exchange of benefits with a certain business tycoon?"

The questions are sharp, hitting the nail on the head, and revealing undisguised malice.

Backstage, Gu Moheng abruptly straightened up, his aura plummeting to freezing point, and was about to rush onto the stage. Qin Shu desperately stopped him, lowering his voice urgently, "President Gu! Mr. Wen instructed us to follow the procedure!"

On stage, Wen Chen didn't get angry; he just smiled gently. He raised his left hand, and under the spotlight of countless flashes, the simple ring reflected a cold light.

“Let me correct you.” Wen Chen’s gaze fell on the reporter who asked the question, his voice clear and calm, “This is not an implication.”

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

Wen Chen gently stroked the ring at the base of her finger, her fingertip gliding across the cool metal surface. Her gaze softened for a moment before hardening again: "This is a couple's ring."

boom--

The scene erupted like a pot boiling over, with the sounds of camera shutters and discussions mingling together, making one's eardrums ache.

"Is the other party Mr. Gu Moheng?" another reporter asked impatiently.

"Who else could it be but him?" Wen Chen retorted, his tone carrying a hint of self-righteous protectiveness, a faint smile playing on his lips. He turned around, his gaze piercing through the layers of people and the glaring lights, landing precisely on the shadows of the side curtain.

There stood a tall figure, stiff and tense, yet filled with longing.

Wen Chen nodded slightly in that direction.

Gu Moheng took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and strode out. He was wearing a dark blue peak-lapel suit, tall and imposing, exuding an aura of authority. The previously noisy scene fell eerily silent for a few seconds the moment he appeared. This was the decisive and ruthless Gu Moheng of Wall Street.

He walked a few steps to Wen Chen's side, his steps steady and his face cold. The two stood side by side, and only Wen Chen could see that the man's fingers hanging at his sides were trembling slightly, and the tips of his ears, hidden behind his hair, were so red they were almost dripping blood.

"President Gu!"

The male reporter, clearly not wanting to miss this big story, raised his voice several octaves: "There are rumors that you returned to China immediately after the Gu family crisis was resolved, even at the cost of transferring core overseas assets, all in an effort to win back Mr. Wen. Is this true?"

Gu Moheng took the microphone from the staff member and subconsciously glanced at Wen Chen beside him.

Wen Chen remained calm and showed no intention of stopping him.

Gu Moheng turned his head, his usually deep eyes now sharp as a hawk's, slowly scanning the entire room. "It's only right that I return to my country for my lover." His deep, magnetic voice resonated through the speakers, striking everyone's eardrums.

"But some people say that Mr. Wen is using this opportunity to climb the social ladder, and even use the term 'kept woman' to describe this relationship..." the reporter persisted.

Gu Moheng's eyes instantly turned cold, and the temperature around him seemed to drop several degrees, with even the air feeling bone-chillingly cold.

"To take over?" Gu Moheng scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I think you've all misunderstood the subject."

He turned to the side, his gaze falling on Wen Chen's face, the icy coldness in his eyes instantly melting into a pool of spring water, "As for the assets..."

He looked back at the camera, his words clear and resolute: "That was not a deal."

He paused, then, in front of the whole world, spoke the words he had kept hidden in his heart for eight years:

“That was me proposing. It was me, Gu Moheng, begging Wen Chen to give me another chance.”

Flashes went off wildly, and shutter clicks filled the air, capturing the moment.

Wen Chen stood beside him. This once arrogant man lowered his head in front of everyone, offering all his dignity to Wen Chen. Sunlight streamed through the French windows, bathing them in a warm glow. The red mark on his neck, the ring on his finger, the deep affection in his eyes—everything spoke of this love that had been lost and then regained.

He tilted his head slightly, looked at the man beside him, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

This time, they won't miss it again.

-

The heavy door closed, shutting out the flashing lights and noise from downstairs. The moment the noise abruptly stopped, Gu Moheng's straight back slumped a little, like a general who had just finished a tough battle and had removed his armor.

"How much longer do we need to hold on?"

The two had returned to their studio upstairs in the office building, and Wen Chen's voice rang out in the office where only the two of them were present.

Gu Moheng then realized with a start that his hand was still gripping Wen Chen's wrist tightly, so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His fingertips trembled, and he released his grip as if he had been electrocuted, his palms covered in sticky, cold sweat.

"Feel sorry."

Wen Chen rubbed his wrists, turned around, and sat down on the sofa. He crossed his long legs, his back relaxed as he sank into the soft sofa, his posture leisurely, a stark contrast to Gu Moheng's tense aura.

"Qin Shu," Wen Chen called out to the door.

Qin Shu, who had been waiting outside the door, immediately pushed it open and came in, holding a tablet in his hand, his expression complicated.

"How's the buzz going?" Wen Chen asked casually, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the texture of the sofa armrest.

Qin Shu glanced at Gu Moheng subconsciously and swallowed hard: "It exploded."

He handed over the tablet; the screen was a blindingly red.

#Gu Moheng and Wen Chen's official announcement#

#Gu's CEO proposes to her with billions#

#The Strongest Childhood Sweethearts Reunion#

The entry was followed by a deep red "Explosive" sign, indicating that the number of discussions had already surpassed 100 million. The server nearly crashed under the onslaught of data, yet it still firmly held the top spot on the trending topics list, far overshadowing the scandal of a certain A-list celebrity.

Wen Chen's fingertip slid across the screen, and the comment section was indeed a chaotic mess. Some people were completely obsessed, spamming the comments with "Childhood sweethearts can't beat the newcomer but wins against time"; some people were sarcastic and asked if Wen Chen was just trying to get resources by tying herself to Gu Moheng; and some conspiracy theorists dug into Wen Chen's past projects, trying to find so-called "ironclad evidence" of her rise to power.

Suddenly, a large hand slashed across the screen, covering it and obscuring all the malice.

"Don't look." Gu Moheng had approached unnoticed, blocking Wen Chen's path and casting a shadow of intense pressure. His eyes were bloodshot, and his breathing was rapid. "I'll have someone clean this up. Not a single bad word will be left behind."

Wen Chen raised her eyes, her gaze passing over his broad shoulders and landing on his taut jaw. "Gu Moheng, are you planning to shut the whole world up?"

Wen Chen's tone was calm, but it made Gu Moheng's hand freeze in mid-air.

“I don’t want you to see those things.” His voice lowered. In his logic, a lost and found treasure should be carefully placed in a sterile room, protected from wind and rain, and not allowed to be disturbed by any foul language.

Looking at him like this, Wen Chen sighed silently in her heart.

Why can't this person learn that trust, rather than layers of protection, is more effective at weathering storms?

"Give me your phone." Wen Chen held out his hand, palm up.

Gu Moheng paused for a moment, then mechanically took out his personal phone from his pocket, unlocked it with his fingerprint, and obediently handed it over.

Wen Chen clicked on the Weibo icon.

Gu Moheng's Weibo account is still stuck eight years ago, with the famous "finance genius" ID. The last post was a photo of a basketball game before the Gu family's incident, in which he looked confident and spirited.

However, there were hundreds of unsent drafts lying in the drafts folder.

It's all about Wen Chen.

There are only pictures, no text.

There were screenshots of news reports about Wen Chen winning awards, blurry images of Wen Chen passing by a coffee shop, and even a profile of Wen Chen wearing a hard hat at a construction site. The editing time for each piece spanned long time zones and countless sleepless nights.

Wen Chen's fingers paused, a throbbing sensation spreading through his veins to his limbs and bones, and his nose instantly felt hot.

In the past eight years, he wasn't the only one who went mad.

He took a deep breath, suppressed the rising emotion in his eyes, and clicked the post button.

"Send it." Wen Chen handed the phone back, her tone still calm but with a touch of gentleness. "Now that it's public, we need to give an official explanation."

Gu Moheng took the phone and swiped through the photo album, which was filled with pictures of Wen Chen. There were candid shots of her profile, shots of her back as she spaced out, and a snapshot of her backstage as she bent down to straighten his tie.

He ultimately chose two photos. One was a candid shot taken backstage, with Wen Chen's eyes lowered in the dim light, her expression focused and gentle; the other was the magnificent rose window of Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, with dappled light and shadow, like a miracle.

Edit and send.

[Gu Moheng V: My light. @Wen Chen [Image][Image]]

After eight years, it has finally landed safely.

One minute later, a notification sound indicating special attention rang out in the quiet lounge.

Gu Moheng refreshed the page almost instantly.

[Wen Chen V: Understood. @Gu Moheng //Retweeted Weibo]

Indifference, restraint, and a kind of indulgence that only they understood were their response to their eight-year wait.

Gu Moheng stared at those three words for a long time, his eyes slowly reddening. He suddenly reached out and pulled Wen Chen, who was sitting on the sofa, into his arms.

"Let go, you're strangling me." Wen Chen mumbled in his arms, her voice slightly slurred.

"I won't let go." Gu Moheng buried his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling greedily. "I'll never let go in this lifetime."

Wen Chen let him hold her, her hand, which had been suspended in mid-air, paused for a moment before slowly falling down, her palm resting on his back, and gently patting him.

The snow was still falling outside the window, the fine snowflakes landing on the glass, and the clouds parted to reveal a hazy white expanse. But at this moment, Gu Moheng felt the ice and snow in his heart melting away, and spring had quietly arrived.

The online storm continues, but the wind seems to have shifted.

Two minutes later.

Wen Chen pushed Gu Moheng away, straightened her wrinkled suit, and instantly regained her aloof and noble designer demeanor.

"Alright, we still have important business to attend to."

He took out his phone, dialed the number of the studio's publicity manager, and said simply, "Issue an announcement."

Half an hour later.

Just as the entire internet was still frantically analyzing the micro-expressions in the phrases "my light" and "I understand," Wen Chen Studio's official Weibo account quietly updated.

A clean-lined design sketch is Wen Chen's latest award-winning work.

The accompanying text was even simpler and more direct, clearly written by Wen Chen himself:

[Wen Chen Studio V: The boss said, for the next bidding meeting, please bring your blessings and leave with your proposals. No gossip, thank you for your cooperation.]

The comment section exploded instantly.

"Hahaha, that's so Wen Gong! Professionals do professional things, gossip can take a backseat!"

"Coming with blessings? This is practically an admission that good news is on the way! I'm so excited!"

"President Gu: As long as my wife (husband) is happy, I'm willing to bring my own funding to join the production team!"

Gu Moheng gently stroked the word "husband" on the screen with his fingertips.

"go home?"

Ignoring Qin Shu, who was still trying to make himself less noticeable, Gu Moheng naturally took Wen Chen's hand, their fingers intertwined, their palms pressed tightly together.

Wen Chen glanced at Qin Shu, who was trying hard not to seem embarrassed, and said gently, "Qin Shu, you should go home first too."

Then, she gripped Gu Moheng's hand tightly in return, "Okay, let's go home."