Chapter 16 Cohabitation (4) We've already settled things between us...
This cold apartment is quietly changing because of Wen Chen's move in.
The next morning, Gu Moheng paused as he walked out of his study after a two-hour transoceanic video conference. The room he had specially reserved for Wen Chen to work in was now wide open. The huge floor-to-ceiling windows let in all the sunlight, bathing the entire room in a pale gold light, and outside lay the city's most vibrant skyline.
A large, professional drawing table replaced the original cold metal side table, standing peacefully by the window, catching the morning light that filled the room.
A full bookshelf lined one wall, filled with original books on architecture and art. On the desk, German-made technical pens, various types of pencils, and erasers were neatly organized in pen holders. Several structural sketches, their lines slender and bold, bore the owner's unique style, taped to the wall with adhesive tape. A comfortable drawing corner had been carved out of the room, the air filled with the subtle, woody scent of high-quality drawing paper.
Wen Chen sat at the table, wearing frameless glasses that block blue light, intently sketching on the digital screen. A soft, off-white cashmere sweater enveloped his figure, and his profile was as gentle as a meticulously painted oil painting in the morning light.
Gu Moheng stopped at the doorway, his gaze undisguisedly fixed on the focused figure inside the room.
Looking at the room filled with traces of another man, his heart was filled with emotions he hadn't felt in eight years. Heaven knows, he had longed for this scene for eight years, dreamed of it for eight years.
He began to get used to things again, and even developed a slight dependence on them—depending on the pair of neatly arranged shoes in the entryway when he came home; depending on the desk lamp that was always lit by the French windows for his figure working at his desk late at night.
This place is finally beginning to take on the shape of a "home".
The tip of the digital pen glided across the screen, emitting a soft, rhythmic "scratching" sound. This was Wen Chen's world. A world made of lines and data. Here, he could block out all external distractions. Including the gaze from the doorway, which seemed to burn the air itself.
Wen Chen's gaze was focused, seemingly oblivious to the figure at the doorway. However, the knuckles of her hand gripping the pen unconsciously tightened, turning a thin layer of white.
This room is just perfect.
Or rather, something just doesn't feel right.
The table was the perfect height for him, allowing his arms and shoulder blades to maintain their most relaxed angle while drawing. To his right, his preferred drawing pencils, ranging from 8B to 6H, were neatly arranged in a stylish pencil holder. Even the curtains were made of linen, filtering out 70% of the midday UV rays while retaining the softest natural light.
Everything in this room was the ideal studio setup that he had casually mentioned to Gu Moheng eight years ago.
Wen Chen finished drawing a section, put down her pen, stretched her stiff neck, and turned to meet Gu Moheng's gaze. He showed no surprise, adjusting his glasses: "Finished?"
"Um."
Gu Moheng approached, his gaze falling on the screen: "Are you revising the 'Return to Home' plan?"
“We discussed President Gu’s points yesterday and came up with a new idea.” Wen Chen turned the screen towards him, pointing to a structure with his fingertip. “This is where we can balance design and cost…” He leaned slightly forward, the faint scent of soap wafting from his body into Gu Moheng’s breath.
A wisp of something lingered around Gu Moheng's nose, his attention gradually being stripped away, his body becoming stiff, until all his attention was no longer focused on the structural diagram, but rather firmly held by Wen Chen's slightly parted, watery lips as she spoke.
"...President Gu?" After finishing her explanation, she received no response. Wen Chen looked up and met those dark eyes that were churning with emotion.
He straightened up without making a sound and created some distance: "Was my explanation too complicated?"
The address "President Gu" jolted Gu Moheng back to his senses. The darkness in his eyes faded, replaced by a deeper, more intense look: "No." His voice was somewhat hoarse. "This plan is excellent. We'll proceed with it."
"That's good." Wen Chen gave a faint smile, lightly tapping the edge of the digital screen with his fingertip. The screen went dark, and the complex structural diagram, along with the momentary ambiguity, disappeared.
"It's getting late, I'll head to my studio now."
He glanced around the room. His gaze finally settled on the row of brand-new pencils.
“These pens,” he began, “have become a habit of mine during my college years. I haven’t used them since graduation.”
Every inch of this room is a reminder of him eight years ago.
But he is no longer living in the life of eight years ago.
Gu Moheng's face grew colder and colder. The faint warmth in the air was instantly drained away.
"So?" he asked. "If you don't like it, throw it away. I'll have someone replace it with the one you're used to using now."
Upon hearing this, Wen Chen suddenly smiled, but the smile was so faint that it didn't reach his eyes.
"No need, Mr. Gu."
He turned around and looked at Gu Moheng. "I'm afraid I can't repay it."
After saying that, he turned and walked out of the room without looking back. He left Gu Moheng alone, standing in the room filled with meticulously preserved, decaying remnants of the past. Sunlight streamed through the French windows, falling on the brand-new pencils and reflecting a cold, glaring light.
Gu Moheng's hands, which were hanging at his sides, suddenly clenched into fists.
"Wen Chen." He called out to him, his voice filled with suppressed panic.
Wen Chen stopped in her tracks, but did not turn around.
"Do we really have to settle things so clearly between us?"
Wen Chen finally turned around slowly.
"Mr. Gu,"
He calmly corrected him, "Between us, we've already settled things."
"Eight years ago, you broke up with me, and I agreed. That was the end of it, and we were even."
“Now, you are Party A, and I am Party B. We will handle business strictly and keep clear accounts.”
"Could it be..." Wen Chen pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold light, "that President Gu wants something else to calculate?"
Gu Moheng was rendered speechless by his words. Looking at Wen Chen's familiar yet unfamiliar face, his heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an icy hand, the pain almost suffocating him.
He wanted to say no.
He wanted to say that we've never really settled things. How can we account for those eight years of longing, those countless sleepless nights?
But he couldn't bring himself to say those words.
Gu Moheng looked at him, the wild beast running rampant inside him finally being brought back down. But the restlessness just wouldn't subside.
The chasm of eight years cannot be bridged by a bowl of porridge or overnight.
He feared that if he opened his mouth, he would shatter the fragile peace before him, a peace as fleeting as a mirage.
Inside the Dream Building Studio, the atmosphere was as lively as during the Chinese New Year.
Wen Chen paused slightly in her steps.
The entire studio, like a finely tuned machine wound up to its limit, was operating at high speed with a frenetic energy. The sound of keyboards clattering was as dense as a torrential downpour. Young designers, in small groups, huddled around the models, debating in hushed but intense voices, their eyes gleaming with burning passion.
Everyone was incredibly energetic.
"Good morning, Teacher Wen!" Assistant Xiao Li was the first to spot him, her eyes lighting up as she greeted him.
Wen Chen nodded. "Good morning."
Xiao Li followed closely behind, saying, "Teacher Wen, those reporters downstairs at your place haven't left yet. I saw them this morning when I passed by; they were all standing guard." He lowered his voice, his tone indignant.
Wen Chen hummed in agreement, but didn't stop walking.
"So where have you been staying these past few days?" Xiao Li finally asked the question that had been lingering over the entire studio.
As soon as he finished speaking, the young designers around him, who had been listening intently, all slowed down their movements in unison.
Wen Chen stopped in front of the glass door of his office. He turned around, his gaze calmly sweeping over the young faces filled with curiosity.
I'm staying at a friend's house.
Xiao Li said "Oh" and wanted to ask more, but Wen Chen continued, "A... friend I haven't seen for many years." He pronounced the word "friend" lightly and clearly, like a precisely drawn line that politely shut out everyone's prying eyes.
Xiao Li nodded in sudden realization, "That's good! That's good! We were worried you weren't getting enough rest!"
Wen Chen smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"The new 'returning home' plan will be discussed at 2 PM."
He reached out and pushed open the office door. "Everyone, hurry up."
A simple, businesslike instruction easily brought all the gossip and curiosity back to work.
"Okay, Teacher Wen!"
Everyone immediately responded in unison and threw themselves back into their work.
Wen Chen walked into the office and closed the heavy frosted glass door behind her.
A soft "click" shut out all the noise and searching from the outside world. It also shut out the name that left him nowhere to escape.
As dusk fell, Wen Chen returned to "Cloud Top Sky Canopy." The magnificent sunset painted the city in a warm gold, but he didn't turn on the lights, letting the twilight flood into the black, white, and gray space. He walked to the fiddle-leaf fig tree, his fingertips gently brushing against its broad leaves. The leaves were still covered with droplets of water sprayed in the morning, cool and moist.
I heard the electronic sound of the smart door lock opening behind me.
Gu Moheng is back. The man's shadow is elongated by the setting sun, and he steps into this warm-colored space, exuding a chilling aura.
When he saw Wen Chen standing by the window, gently bathed in the glow of the sunset, his steps faltered almost imperceptibly. In that instant, all the weariness in his eyes melted away, like a long-traveled traveler finally seeing the lighthouse on his way home.
"You're back." Gu Moheng's voice was gentle, even to his own surprise.
Wen Chen turned around, her face displaying her usual gentle and aloof demeanor: "President Gu is back early today."
It was "President Gu" again. The warmth that had just risen in her heart was extinguished by those two words. Gu Moheng remained expressionless, simply taking off his suit jacket and draping it over his arm, loosening his tie, deliberately creating a relaxed, homecoming atmosphere.
"Okay," he replied, "I have a dinner appointment tonight, so I'll cancel it."
Wen Chen didn't ask why he pushed it away. Her gaze followed him into the open kitchen, watching him take fresh milk from the refrigerator, pour it into a saucepan, and light a small fire.
"What do you want for dinner?" Gu Moheng asked casually, as if he were asking a roommate he had lived with for many years.
Wen Chen lowered her eyes, focusing intently on the white foam rising in the milk pot. "Either is fine."
Gu Moheng gently stirred the milk with a wooden spoon. "Then let's make a tomato baked rice."
"Buzz—buzz—" The phone's vibration abruptly shattered the feigned tranquility.
A name flashed on the screen—[Li Zheming].
Gu Moheng was pouring the warmed milk into a glass when he heard the sound and paused slightly.
Wen Chen glanced at it and accepted the answer without any hesitation.
"Hey, Brother Li." His voice was warm and cheerful, like a spring breeze brushing across a lake, instantly dispelling the stagnant air in the room.
Gu Moheng's hand holding the milk glass tightened silently at the knuckles.
"Yes, I'm here," Wen Chen leaned back on the sofa, relaxing. "I just got back a short while ago."
Li Zheming's hearty laughter came from the other end of the phone.
"The architecture exhibition this weekend? Of course I remember."
Wen Chen's gaze swept casually towards the kitchen. He could clearly feel that the once warm gaze was gradually turning cold and sharp.
"Meet me at the city art museum entrance at 10 a.m. on Saturday, okay?"
"Okay, I'll contact you then." The call ended.
Wen Chen put down her phone and turned to meet Gu Moheng's unfathomable eyes. All the feigned warmth and relaxation on that handsome face had vanished completely, leaving only the chilling coldness of an iceberg before it thaws.
Wen Chen seemed oblivious, a flawless smile curving his lips slightly. "President Gu," he asked softly, "will you still make dinner?"
-
The next day, early morning.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright spots of light on the floor.
Wen Chen changed his clothes and prepared to go out. An oatmeal-colored trench coat accentuated his tall and slender figure, while the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose added to his refined and elegant elite air.
Gu Moheng sat on the living room sofa, dressed only in dark gray loungewear, holding financial documents in his hand.
From the moment Wen Chen stepped out of the room, all his senses were captivated.
Wen Chen walked to the entrance and bent down to change her shoes.
The document in Gu Moheng's hand was already crumpled and deformed.
Just as Wen Chen straightened up and his hand was about to touch the doorknob, a dark shadow, carrying an immense sense of oppression, suddenly approached. His wrist was gripped tightly by a large, burning hot hand. Wen Chen lowered his eyes, staring at the hand with its distinct knuckles.
"You really have to go?" Gu Moheng's voice came from behind.
Wen Chen turned around and looked up, without even raising an eyebrow: "President Gu," he said, his voice still gentle and calm, "this is my private schedule."
He paused, his gaze behind his glasses clear yet distant: "I shouldn't need to report to you."
Gu Moheng's eyes were dark and unyielding: "With Li Zheming?"
Wen Chen looked at him and tried to pull her wrist back slightly. This subtle movement completely ignited the fuse, and Gu Moheng gripped her wrist even tighter.
He took a step closer, completely enveloping Wen Chen in his shadow without a word. "Wen Chen," Gu Moheng leaned down, their breaths mingling, staring intently into the other's eyes, asking each word carefully, "Are you using him to provoke me?"
Wen Chen raised his other free hand and slowly pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze behind the lenses turning icy.
"To annoy you?" He parted his thin lips slightly, rolling the two words on the tip of his tongue with a playful mockery, "President Gu, you think too highly of yourself."
Gu Moheng stared at him in disbelief, then abruptly let go and staggered backward. Clear lines appeared on that perpetually calm and composed face, revealing shock, bewilderment, and utter helplessness.
“If Mr. Gu has nothing else to say,” Wen Chen’s gaze calmly passed over Gu Moheng’s stiff body and turned to the bright world outside the window, “I should go.”
He reached out, opened the door, and stepped out. Without a trace of hesitation.
“Clatter.”
The door was gently closed.
Gu Moheng stood frozen in place, the faint scent of soap lingering in the air from Wen Chen, almost imperceptible, yet like the gentlest knife, slowly slicing through his already riddled heart.
He slowly raised his hand, looking at his empty palm.
Stepping out of the apartment building, a cool morning breeze greeted me.
Wen Chen took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs, trying to calm his wildly beating heart.
He raised his hand, looking at the faint red mark on his wrist, and gently covered it with his other hand. With no intention of driving, he glanced at the usually empty street, wondering if he could hail a taxi here.
He pulled his coat tighter around himself, just as a taxi pulled up.
Wen Chen withdrew her hand and opened the car door: "Driver, to the Municipal Art Museum." She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and hid all her emotions behind her gold-rimmed glasses.
A note from the author:
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