Moonlight and Border of Beijing
[Chairman's Office, Beijing Mu's Headquarters]
The glass walls sliced the city into several cold, hard straight lines. The sky wasn't fully bright yet; low clouds pressed down between the tall buildings, as if compressing the entire morning into a stuffy box. The quartz clock on the wall ticked steadily, each strike a reminder to maintain order. The doctor's orders and treatment plans spread out on the table were carefully marked, their corners neatly folded, like an agreement waiting for someone's signature.
Mr. Mu closed one of the reports, tapped his finger on the table, and spoke in a tone like he was presiding over a meeting: "The doctor said your mother's inflammatory markers suddenly rose last night. We need to control the infection first, then adjust the medication. We'll do a high-resolution imaging scan this week. We'll follow the plan and not rush to change the main treatment line. We'll wait for the imaging to reassess."
Mu Tianlang stood ramrod straight, his gaze fixed on every line of text, silently memorizing a few key points: "This afternoon I will inquire about the details of the drug allergy test and the records of the nighttime nursing observations. If necessary, we will add another shift of nursing staff."
Mr. Mu nodded, then pushed over another stack of cooperation documents, his tone unchanged: "The Jiang family will send high-ranking officials on Friday for the cultural complex project in Jinghai Twin Cities. They want a deeper stake. You'll be the one to set the tone. Make sure their interests are tightly aligned, letting them know that we control the Mu family's plans."
The room was quiet for a moment, with only the very faint hiss of the HVAC system blowing air.
Mu Tianlang pressed his fingertip against the edge of the paper, as if pressing a thought back to its predetermined place: "We can discuss cooperation, but I will not use personal relationships to exchange for terms, nor will I leave any emotional leverage in business matters. I will not go down that path."
Father Mu raised his eyes, his gaze steady: "You're too idealistic. If you want to stand tall enough, you can't be held back by anything, especially things that might shake your judgment."
He pushed the stack of papers back half an inch, his tone flat: "That doesn't mean I have to copy your methods. When we collaborate on projects, we don't involve my private life; that's a principle."
The clock on the wall moved forward another notch, its ticking sound seeming to fall between the two of them.
Mr. Mu withdrew his hand, placed the pen face down on the business card holder, as if leaving an imprint: "Be on time Friday. Don't let emotions enter the meeting room. You still have to handle your mother's affairs, don't get distracted."
Mu Tianlang's gaze darkened, but he remained calm: "I will take the Mu family to the next level in my own way, without relying on marriage alliances or exchanges."
He carefully put away the list of doctor's orders and copied the nursing station's contact number into his pocket notebook. As he turned to leave, he went back to neatly arrange the treatment summary, as if tucking the corner of a blanket around his mother, before finally departing.
The corridor was long, and his straight back was reflected in the glass wall. Every step he took was measured and restrained. The news from the night before still churned in his mind—his mother's temperature had briefly spiked. He had actually rushed back from the ICU to the pharmacy to ask about alternatives, but in front of his father, he never let his anxiety spiral out of control. His wolfish nature wasn't about baring his fangs and claws, but rather about hiding his teeth behind his lips and transforming fear into order in every crisis.
He sent a message to his attending physician in the elevator: "Please update this morning's test results, adjust the IV fluid rate for tonight, and contact the nutrition department to assess energy needs." Then he opened another chat window and sent it to Hu Li: "I'll be there later, don't wait for me for dinner."
The screen quickly lit up with a message: "Okay, I'll leave one light on."
Those words seemed to pull him back from the cold corridor to the human world. For a moment, his breathing finally eased.
[Nighttime at Hu Li Apartment Building in Beijing]
The night softened the edges of the street scene, and the shadows of the trees swayed on the road like a layer of floating water. Mu Tianlang parked the car in the least obstructive corner of the roadside, turned off the engine, and only his steady breathing and the very faint ticking of his watch remained inside the car.
He sent a message: "I'm downstairs at your place."
The elevator dinged, and she stepped off, wearing a thin knitted shawl that brushed past her ankles. Her gaze was steady, as if she had already tamed all the little turbulence of the day: "Come on up to my place."
He nodded and followed behind her, deliberately slowing his pace, neither chasing nor making her wait, maintaining a distance like that of a hunter. But tonight he wasn't there to pounce on a wolf; he was simply offering her a sense of security at her doorstep.
As she reached the halfway point, a gust of wind rushed up from the stairwell, causing her hair to flutter slightly. She glanced back at him, a teasing smile playing on her lips: "Trying to peek at my mood today?"
He said calmly, "It wasn't peeking, it was confirming."
She raised an eyebrow: "I'm in a good mood because you came."
That light remark softened the shadow beneath his brow. He didn't reply, but simply reached out and stopped an inch behind her, like an invisible guardrail.
[Hu Li Apartment at Night]
The room was quiet, the warm light in the corner making the night feel gentle. There was a fabric sofa, linen curtains, and two potted plants. On the desk sat a small wooden stand, holding a sample of "Blank Space and Boundaries," two lines intersecting but not overlapping, each carrying a tiny bit of light in the blank space.
He paused for a second in the entryway, as if afraid of disrupting the order. She pushed the slippers to his feet: "Put these on, it's slow here."
He grunted in agreement, changed his shoes, and maintained his upright posture, as if he had concealed all his sharpness within his joints.
Hu Li walked into the kitchen, picked up her frosty white glass, filled it with warm water, and handed it to him: "Have a sip first."
He took the cup, gently twirling the rim under his fingertips: "Thank you."
Only two lights were on in the living room. He sat opposite her, his back ramrod straight, as if searching for the spot that wouldn't disturb her. She looked at him; his eyes held the warmth of moonlight, yet also the cunning of a fox hiding its cunning.
She spoke first: "What do you want to say today?"
He didn't mince words, his knuckles tightening on the glass: "If you're with me, you'll face rumors, unfounded speculation, being used to write stories... My family might use our relationship as a bargaining chip. I'll protect you, but the hurtful words will still come. There will be situations where I can't have you by my side. It's not that I don't want you, it's that I don't want you to get hurt."
She stared at him: "I've made my bottom line clear: no third party allowed. Anyone trying to use me as a shield is out of the question. I'll choose my own path. We'll handle our own business, and our personal matters are just between you and me."
He looked at her and said in a low voice, "I promise I won't involve you in my negotiations, and I won't let anyone use your name. I'll handle my family matters, and I won't use you to negotiate terms."
She rotated the sample at an angle: "Then if we feel uncomfortable, we can say so, and anyone can call a halt."
He thought for a moment, then added, "I'll face my own challenges; you just be yourself."
Her eyes crinkled at the corners: "Okay."
Car headlights swept across the wall outside the window, the light gliding like water. A brief silence fell over the living room, then he finally asked, "Would you be my girlfriend?"
She looked at him, didn't smile, and only said very softly, "Okay."
Silence fell between them like soft cotton. He reached out his hand, not insisting, but simply opening a door. She placed her hand on it, their fingers intertwining, and their breathing became quiet in that blank space.
She whispered, "I'll leave a light on for the part of you that's afraid of the dark."
He replied, "I'll take care of the part you don't want to be assigned."
She pushed the frosty white glass back to him: "You can keep this one, but you finish the water."
He chuckled, his gaze finally softening. His laugh wasn't loud, but it eased the hard lines of his face by an inch.
She stood up, walked to the desk, pulled out a sample of "Blank Space and Boundary" from the shelf, and lightly drew a star in the blank space between the two lines: "We stand here, each going our own way, and looking in each other's direction."
He followed her, stopping half a step behind her. The light overlapped their shadows for a moment, then separated again. He didn't hug her, but gently touched her hairline with his forehead, as if giving her a "don't worry" as a gesture.
She looked up and gave him a very light kiss, so short it was like confirmation, like stamping the seal on their relationship.
He exhaled, and the taut string finally relaxed: "Thank you for choosing me."
She replied, "Mm."
His phone vibrated on the coffee table. He glanced at it—board meeting agenda: Friday, meeting with the Jiang family. He closed the screen. Her inbox also lit up—formal contract for the autumn joint exhibition. They exchanged a look, neither taking another step forward. The answer had been given; now it was up to each to pave their own way.
She thought of his mother and asked, "I'll cook some light soup tonight, and you can take it to the hospital tomorrow, okay?"
He glanced at her, a faint glimmer in his eyes: "Okay, but don't overdo it."
She shrugged: "I'm a fox, and foxes are the best at making soup."
He chuckled, "Then I'll be responsible for holding the soup steady."
Moonlight on the Small Terrace
The curtains were parted a crack by the night breeze, and moonlight, like a thin layer of water, spread across the wooden floor. A line of rain-washed marks marked the iron railing outside the small terrace; the wind, carried by the distant city, brought a pleasantly damp warmth.
She turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling: "I'm waiting for you to bite me."
His fingertips tightened, covering her wrist and leading her to a deeper corner in the shadows. He turned to shield her from the wind, pulling her close in his arms, and whispered, almost uttering, "Don't start a fire."
Hu Li raised an eyebrow, a slight smile on his face: "Don't you want to?"
His Adam's apple bobbed: "I want to, but once I bite you, I'll want to eat you up, bite by bite, and I won't let go."
The air tightened between them. She tiptoed, letting her lips brush against his chin like a feather, a gesture that was both provocative and welcoming. He finally leaned down and lightly bit her lips. His fingertips moved in and out of her wrist, his forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling.
"Stop joking." His voice was low and husky. "If you get any closer, I won't be able to stop, and I don't want you to feel bad when you turn back."
She smiled, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not teasing you anymore. That's all for tonight."
He didn't answer, but simply took his coat off his shoulders and gently draped it over hers. She pulled up the collar, as if leaving his scent beside her collarbone.
She leaned closer, her tone softening: "Then don't drive. There's a rug in the living room, I'll go get it."
He looked at her for two seconds, then nodded: "Okay."
She turned to go inside, when he suddenly called out to her, "Fox."
She turned around: "Hmm?"
He took a half-step closer and placed a light, misty kiss on the back of her hair: "That smells like home."
Her eyes crinkled slightly: "Then come home often."
[Hu Li Apartment Night Kitchen]
The small pot on the stove was bubbling away. She turned the heat down, brushed aside the ginger slices and scallions, and a delicate aroma rose gently. He leaned against the door watching her movements; every gesture, every turn of her wrist, was clean and efficient.
She said, "I brought you some soup for the hospital. I added white radish and a little bit of goji berries. It won't overpower the flavor, but it will be sweet."
He hummed in agreement, walked over, and picked up the pot lid for her before putting it back on. The distance between them was as short as an unspoken embrace.
She turned her head to look at him: "You're holding back."
He paused for two seconds, then didn't deny it: "I'm afraid that if I relax, I'll put all my worries on you."
She reached out and intertwined his fingers one by one: "No need to pour it, we'll share. I won't carry what the wolf can carry, and don't try to take what the fox can carry."
He looked at her, and the shadows that had been weighing on his eyes all day seemed to be illuminated inch by inch by a lamp. He lowered his head and touched her fingertips briefly: "Okay."
She added, "If you're tired, you can sleep on the sofa. I'll raise the cushions a bit for you."
He said, "There's a seat next to you too."
She laughed: "Then you have to be good."
He lowered his eyes: "Being obedient is a condition, not a reward."
She chuckled, removed the pot from the heat, and carefully scooped the contents into a thermos: "You're such a good negotiator, did you manage to get it for me?"
He replied, "We didn't talk about it; I was serious about asking."
She looked up and saw his sincerity in that instant; sweetness spread like moonlight.
[Hu Li Apartment Night Living Room]
The television wasn't on; only the distant sound of cars passing by outside the window could be heard. He spread a blanket on the sofa, and she fluffed up the two cushions. He sat down, and she sat on the carpet, leaning against his knees. Holding a copy of "Blank Space and Boundaries," she placed a small star in a blank space, then another.
He asked in a low voice, "How many did you draw today?"
She counted: "Four. Two for me, two for you. Your two will be positioned slightly to the outside, because you like to have a better view of the whole picture."
He asked, "And your two?"
She said, "I stay closest to the border because I always want to see if there's any scenery beyond it."
He laughed, almost inaudibly: "If you want to, I'll build a bridge for you."
She looked up, her eyes shining so brightly they seemed to set people ablaze: "Then I'll cross the bridge, bite you, and run back."
He reached out and gently stroked the back of her hair: "Slow down, let me catch up."
She turned her face and gently bit his knuckles. It wasn't hard, but it felt like she'd been electrocuted.
He said, "Fox."
She replied, "Mm."
He said softly, "I really want to, but I have to restrain myself."
She raised her hand and tapped his chest: "You're restraining yourself because you cherish it, not because you don't want to. I understand."
He pressed that spot into his palm, leaving an invisible imprint.
[At the entrance to the bedroom of Hu Li Apartment at night]
She left the door ajar, and as she turned, he caught a glimpse of the smile in her eyes. Leaning against the doorframe, she glanced at him sideways: "Tonight, you'll sleep on the sofa, sir. I'll sleep in the bedroom. The door won't be locked, but there will be boundaries."
He stood in the shadows of the corridor, his eyes calm and bright: "Okay."
She said softly, "Your toothbrush and your coat are inside. I hung them behind the door and smoothed out all the creases, like paving a road."
He swallowed hard. "Thank you."
She took a step closer, straightened his shirt collar, and whispered, "Actually, you can be less assertive sometimes. It's cool that you carry the whole world on your shoulders, but I'd like to see you share some of your focus with me."
He looked at her, his eyes as deep as the night: "I'm learning."
She laughed and said, "Then I'll check."
She tiptoed and lightly touched the corner of his lips, a touch as sweet as a candy on his tongue, then stepped back: "Goodnight, wolf."
He stood there for a long time before he could catch his breath. Back in the living room, he dimmed the lights, leaving only the one closest to the hallway on.
[The following morning at Huli Apartments]
Morning light seeped in through the edges of the curtains, illuminating the boundary between the sofa and the carpet. The air carried the scent of sun-warmed cotton. He woke up on the sofa, his coat draped over the armrest. The bedroom door opened softly, and Hu Li emerged barefoot onto the carpet, sitting down on the sofa. He held the sample of "Blank Space and Boundaries" in his palm, placing a smaller star in a blank space, leaving a finger's width of space between the stars.
He murmured softly, as if afraid of startling her: "Once I've got you, don't run away, fox."
He leaned down and gently touched her neck, as if to reassure her. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she looked up to meet his still-warm gaze. She touched the corner of his lips first, then smiled and said, "Good morning, Mr. Mu."
He said in a low voice, "Good morning."
She pushed the blanket back to him: "Eat breakfast first."
He chuckled, "Whatever you say."
At the dinner table, she reheated the pancakes she had made the night before and sliced a few more pears. He ate slowly, each bite as if he were making a record. Looking at him, she suddenly said, "Before you go to the hospital today, I'll walk with you for a while."
He shook his head: "You go paint, I'll go to the hospital, and I'll come pick you up later. I want to take you away from work completely, without anyone disturbing you."
She looked at him, her eyes shining even brighter: "I'll wait for you."
He nodded, got up to put on his coat. He walked to the door, then turned back, gently touching his palm to her fingertips: "Fox, don't run away."
She raised an eyebrow: "Hurry up, you'll be late." She dried the thermos, tied it with string, put it in a paper bag, and handed it to him before he left. There was a line of small writing on the paper bag—"Soup for Auntie."
He paused for a moment, then couldn't help but lower his head again and place a very light kiss on her forehead before turning and leaving.
The door closed, and Hu Li stood there for a few seconds. She looked at the sample again, noticing a brighter white stroke added beside the starlight of last night. She imagined it was the reflection of morning light falling on the boundary. She said to herself: "Make my schedule tight today, but also leave some space for him."
[Beijing Hospital Corridor]
The corridor was quiet in the early morning, sunlight streaming through the long windows and casting a cool, white glow on the floor. He placed the thermos on the table in the family rest area, asking the caregiver to heat it in portions as needed. The attending physician came over and briefly updated the morning's test results: "The infection markers are starting to decline; imaging is scheduled for 2 PM."
He hummed in thanks to the doctor. As he turned, he suddenly noticed the words on the paper bag—"Soup for Auntie." The handwriting was neat, with a slight hook at the end, the strokes ending like a smile. He subtly curved his lips, picked up his phone, and sent her a photo—no text, just that one line.
She quickly replied with an emoji: a little fox looking up with a star beside it.
He put his phone back in his suit pocket, straightened up, and composed himself.
[Afternoon Notes at Hu Li Apartment]
Returning to her drawing table, she laid out the sketch from the previous night. Between the starlight, she used extremely fine lines to draw an almost imperceptible arc. She imagined that arc as two people on separate paths gazing at each other from afar, each with their own order to uphold. She pressed the tip of her brush for a moment, letting the ink seep into the paper, like the lingering sweetness and slight pain in her heart.
The wind outside the window pushed the clouds very slowly. She suddenly added a line of tiny words in the corner: "Leaving blank space is to make the embrace more precise."
My phone vibrated; it contained a message: "The imaging is working well, and the indicators are trending downwards. Don't worry."
She replied, "I'm here—you can see me no matter where you look."
She put her phone back, picked up a softer pencil, and began writing on a new piece of paper. The first stroke was very light, like moonlight falling on the balcony railing; the second stroke was the man's profile, the lines extremely restrained; the third stroke was the fox's raised eyes, as if about to say something, yet keeping the words hidden in a smile.
She thought: This chapter will be called "Moonlight and the Boundary".
[Huli Apartments at Dusk]
The evening light bathed the room in a thin layer of gold. The doorbell rang softly, and she went to open the door; as soon as the door opened, he stood in the doorway, his gaze as calm as ever, but he visibly relaxed the moment he saw her.
She walked over, smiled, and reached out to brush a speck of dust off his collar: "Welcome back."
He whispered, "I'm back."
She asked, "Was today tiring?"
He said, "With you by my side, life isn't hard."
She feigned seriousness: "Sweet words are a plus, but you have to serve yourself dinner."
He nodded and took the bowl she offered. The two walked to the dining table one after the other. Suddenly, he stopped an inch behind her, like he had done in the stairwell the night before, creating an invisible railing.
She turned around, her eyes crinkling: "Wolf, you did a good job today."
He whispered, "Yes, but I also want a reward."
She moved closer to him and said, word by word, "Bite————down."
He lowered his gaze, lightly touched her lips, and then stepped back, obedient as if tamed, or like a wolf reined in.
She laughed and pushed the soup in front of him: "Eat up, wolf. Your breakfast has been upgraded to dinner."
He steadied the bowl, looked up at her, and said, "Thank you, Fox."
Night slowly descended outside the window, and lights came on one by one inside. They settled each other in the details of daily life. Sweetness and a touch of bittersweetness were like two lines, closely intertwined yet never overlapping, gradually sketching out a shape that a home could accommodate on the same sheet of paper.
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