Chapter 21 Cohabitation (9) I miss you so much...
The meal proceeded in this strange and bittersweet atmosphere. Zhao Peng tried desperately to find topics to talk about, from funny stories from his school days and embarrassing moments with his professors to their current work fields and industry trends.
Wen Chen would occasionally respond with a word or two, polite and considerate, but distant.
Gu Moheng barely participated in the conversation from beginning to end. He sat there quietly, yet his presence was undeniable. His gaze remained fixed on Wen Chen most of the time, and then he silently and repeatedly used serving chopsticks to put food on Wen Chen's plate.
Tender slices of beef, crisp and chewy beef tripe, and bean curd sheets soaked in broth...
The bowl in front of Wen Chen was quickly piled up into a colorful little mountain. But he didn't touch that "mountain" once, not even once.
Finally, after a few bottles of beer, Zhao Peng, fueled by the alcohol, couldn't hold back any longer and asked the question that had been lingering in his mind for a long time, a question that everyone wanted to ask.
"Seriously, Moheng," he said, his face flushed, slurring his words, leaning forward and staring directly at Gu Moheng, "what was wrong with you back then? You just left without a word! Do you know what Wen Chen was like back then..."
"Zhao Peng."
Wen Chen suddenly spoke, interrupting him. Her voice was not loud, still with that gentle and clear tone, but it carried a sudden chill, like icicles slicing through the air.
He picked up the fallen chopstick, wiped it elegantly with a tissue, looked up, and his gaze swept over Zhao Peng from behind his glasses, a faint smile on his face. "It's all in the past."
Zhao Peng was taken aback by his calm yet extremely oppressive gaze. The words he was about to say stuck in his throat. He awkwardly shut his mouth and touched his nose.
The white steam from the hot pot continued to rise, blurring the faces of the people opposite and their expressions.
Wen Chen couldn't make out the expression on Gu Moheng's face. Amidst the noisy background, Gu Moheng spoke slowly and deliberately in a voice that sounded almost like sandpaper being rubbed.
"It was my fault."
Wen Chen's hand gripping the chopsticks tightened suddenly, with such force that it almost snapped the thin bamboo chopsticks in two.
Zhao Peng was completely stunned, and the effects of the alcohol instantly wore off. He had imagined countless possibilities: Gu Moheng would explain, remain silent, or evade the issue, but he never expected that Gu Moheng would so readily and decisively admit his mistake without any explanation.
"It was me back then, I'm sorry to him." Gu Moheng raised his eyes, those deep eyes that always held frost and meticulous calculation in the business world, now, under the noisy, smoky lights of the hot pot restaurant, in front of his old classmate, revealed an undisguised, heavy regret and pain.
His gaze pierced through the wisps of steam carrying the aroma of food, locking onto Wen Chen's face with a greedy, unwavering intensity, as if he wanted to etch that face into the depths of his soul.
The surrounding clamor seemed to be instantly silenced, entering a vacuum. Only the bubbling red oil pot on the table stubbornly continued to boil, becoming the only sound in this small space.
Zhao Peng stood there stunned for a good ten seconds before suddenly slapping his thigh. The shock on his face instantly turned into a relieved and ecstatic expression: "I knew it! I knew you two couldn't just let it go like that! You two were so close back then..."
He excitedly picked up the beer glass he had just filled for himself on the table, stood up with a flushed face, and said, "Come on, come on, this drink is a must! Consider it my way of welcoming you two back together and celebrating your... reconciliation!" His voice was loud and clear, filled with a heavy drunkenness and sincere blessings, instantly attracting the curious glances of several people at the next table.
The cheap glass containing the golden liquid was held high in the air, and the water droplets condensed on the glass were slowly sliding down the smooth glass.
Wen Chen's gaze fell indifferently on the wine glass. Then, he reached out and picked up the glass of soy milk beside him, which had long since gone cold. He raised his eyes to look at Zhao Peng's face, which was flushed with excitement and alcohol, his gaze calm and unwavering.
You've misunderstood.
Wen Chen's voice was soft, yet it was like a sharp ice pick, instantly piercing through the lively atmosphere of the hot pot restaurant.
"We are not together."
Zhao Peng's hand, holding the wine glass, froze in mid-air. The flush on his face, caused by excitement and alcohol, was visibly fading, leaving only embarrassment and bewilderment.
Wen Chen's face remained expressionless. He didn't even bother to maintain the gentle smile he usually wore for social interactions. He picked up his cup of soy milk and, with a composed gesture, lightly touched it to Zhao Peng's wine glass, which was suspended in mid-air.
"This glass is for you. Wishing you a bright future."
“Wen Chen, you…” Zhao Peng finally found his voice, his expression even more painful than crying, “I…I didn’t mean that…”
“I know.” Wen Chen pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and looked at the silent man beside him. “Right now, Mr. Gu and I,” he emphasized those two words, drawing an insurmountable line, “are simply a client and service provider relationship.”
The air seemed to have been completely sucked out in that instant, leaving a suffocating feeling. Even the rising steam from the hot pot seemed to freeze.
Zhao Peng's face was filled with embarrassment.
Gu Moheng's hand, which had just picked up the serving chopsticks and was about to take another bite, trembled slightly when he heard the words "Party A and Party B." His eyes, which had just been slightly illuminated by the steam from the hot pot, were instantly swallowed up by boundless, deep darkness.
Wen Chen could clearly feel the man beside her tense up instantly, like a fully drawn bow. A silent, almost crushing sense of oppression emanated from Gu Moheng.
Gu Moheng slowly put down his chopsticks, picked up the glass of beer that Zhao Peng had poured for him, tilted his head back, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently, as if he were trying to swallow some surging emotion along with the beer, and drink it all in one gulp. The sound of swallowing was particularly clear and heavy in the stagnant air at that moment.
"Bang."
The empty wine glass was placed heavily on the table.
He picked up the bottle and poured himself another glass.
Drink it all again.
Pour it again.
Another glass emptied.
Zhao Peng was completely dumbfounded, staring helplessly at the silent yet insane man in front of him.
Wen Chen watched with almost indifferent eyes, her face expressionless, as if watching a silent play that had nothing to do with her. But in her heart, it felt as if a very fine needle had pricked her, not too hard, not too softly. It wasn't a sharp pain, but rather a lingering, dense, and bittersweet feeling that spread afterward.
"Um... Moheng, you, you should drink less. Drinking too much alcohol is bad for your health..." Zhao Peng advised weakly, his voice filled with helplessness.
Gu Moheng seemed not to hear. One glass after another, he gulped down the cold beer.
The man who was always calm and composed in the business world, always in control of his strategy, and seemingly untouchable by anything, was now utterly and utterly defeated by Wen Chen's cold and decisive "Party A and Party B".
Wen Chen felt no sense of satisfaction in seeking revenge.
That's enough.
Wen Chen finally spoke.
He put down the chopsticks he had been holding but hadn't touched, took out a few enough banknotes from his wallet, and placed them steadily under the soy milk cup on the table.
"Zhao Peng, let's get together again next time. I'm leaving now." Before Zhao Peng could react, Wen Chen had already stood up, the chair legs scraping against the ground with a slight sound. He didn't look at Gu Moheng again, turned around and walked towards the entrance of the hot pot restaurant, pushing open the heavy, condensation-covered glass door.
Outside the door, cold rain, mixed with damp and chilly wind, rushed in instantly, hitting my face and bringing a bone-chilling wakefulness.
The rain hasn't stopped yet.
Just like that night eight years ago, exactly the same.
The car was unlocked, and the moment my hand touched the door, my wrist was gripped tightly by a strong force reeking of alcohol!
Wen Chen suddenly turned around.
Gu Moheng stood right behind him, extremely close, soaked to the bone. His black cashmere sweater clung to his body, dripping water constantly, making him look utterly disheveled, a far cry from his usual dignified composure. His deep eyes, now burned red by alcohol and intense emotions, stared at him with a desperate, hopeless intensity, like a trapped beast facing imminent doom, as if he were the only source of light in the darkness.
The strong smell of alcohol mixed with the cold scent of rain brutally invaded Wen Chen's breath.
Gu Moheng gripped his wrist with astonishing strength.
"Let go." Wen Chen's voice was colder than the rain.
Gu Moheng wouldn't let go, but stared intently at him with those burning red eyes.
Rainwater streamed down the man's sharp jawline, forming streams that dripped continuously.
"I won't let go." Gu Moheng's strength was terrifying; his fingers gripped his wrist like iron clamps, as if the person in front of him would disappear if he let go.
“Wen Chen…” He took a step forward, his tall figure carrying a strong smell of alcohol and a sense of oppression, completely enveloping Wen Chen in his shadow.
"I was wrong……"
"I know I was wrong..."
“But you can’t…” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently and painfully, his eyes filled with suppressed agony that finally broke down. “You can’t say we’re just… Party A and Party B.” He spoke those last three words with extreme difficulty, as if carrying immense shame.
Wen Chen looked at the man in front of her who had completely lost control.
"Then what should I say?" The corners of his lips curved into a cold and sarcastic arc, as if mocking Gu Moheng, and also as if mocking himself for his wavering heart at this moment.
"You're saying we're still lovers? You're saying Mr. Gu still has feelings for me?"
"Gu Moheng, what right do you have?!" He roared out the last sentence with all his might. The grievances, resentment, and abandonment that had been building up for eight years finally found an outlet and burst forth. His voice trembled slightly.
Gu Moheng froze, stunned by his questioning. Large, continuous drops of rain slid down his sharply defined jawline, making it impossible to tell whether they were cold rain or tears.
"I didn't..." he murmured, as if all his support and strength had been drained away, his voice broken and fragmented, "I'm not..."
Wen Chen tried to shake off his hand, which was as hot as a branding iron.
But in the very next second—
Gu Moheng's tall body suddenly went limp without warning. He fell straight down, carrying all his weight, towards Wen Chen.
Wen Chen's pupils contracted sharply! Before his brain could even process it, his body reacted—instinctively, he reached out and used his slender frame to catch the heavy, hot body that reeked of alcohol.
Gu Moheng's head rested heavily and completely on his thin shoulder. His hot breath, mixed with the smell of alcohol, sprayed onto the sensitive skin of his neck without any obstruction, bringing waves of shivers.
"Wen Chen..." A very soft, indistinct murmur, almost completely swallowed by the sound of the pouring rain, rang out close to his cold earlobe.
"I miss you so much……"
“...every day.”
Wen Chen stood motionless in the torrential rain, holding his shattered youth in his arms, completely frozen. The rain blurred his vision and the outline of the man in his arms, leaving only the burning body temperature and the lingering whispers in his ear.
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