Chapter 29 Fragments (5) Then I'm willing to keep selling them. ...
Gu Moheng's words clearly startled Wen's mother. She looked at the young man in front of her carefully again. He was dressed smartly, and their few brief meetings had highlighted his excellent upbringing. The confidence he exuded was the result of the abundant love he received from his family.
But the words he just uttered carried an indescribable sense of melancholy. Even Wen's mother sensed the change in him.
Wen's mother's heart softened, and what was originally a test turned into the care of an elder.
"If it's delicious, I'll come back often. It's just simple food."
Wen's mother casually remarked, "You young people these days are so busy. No matter how busy you are with work, you should always go home to see your parents. As for cooking, homemade food is always the best."
In that instant, it was as if the air had been sucked out.
Wen Chen's heart clenched, and she instinctively tried to cut the subject, "Mom—"
Yes, it will.
Gu Moheng spoke first. He stood under the lamplight, the warm yellow light shining on the side of his high nose, but it couldn't penetrate the deep, dark eyes.
"I'll bring them back once I've finished dealing with things here."
Gu Moheng calmly straightened the collar of his coat, his tone as indifferent as if he were talking about something trivial.
"After all, fallen leaves return to their roots."
Wen's mother was taken aback, not understanding the hidden meaning, and assumed that he wanted to bring his parents from abroad back to China to retire.
"That's a good thing. As people get older, they realize more and more that they are more used to living in China."
Wen's mother answered with a smile, while Wen Chen beside her felt as if his blood had almost frozen.
He knew to bring them back.
It's not about bringing them back to live out their old age, it's about bringing them back for burial.
When Gu Moheng said this, he gave Wen's mother a gentle smile.
That smile stung Wen Chen's eyes.
"Then we won't disturb your rest, Uncle and Aunt."
Gu Moheng nodded politely, turned around and pushed open the door.
A cold wind rushed in instantly, carrying a few withered leaves, and forcefully crashed in through the half-open door.
Wen Chen subconsciously shrank his neck, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot in the entryway, not moving an inch.
He looked at Gu Moheng's broad and straight back, his eyes brimming with struggle.
"Well, I won't be going back tonight."
Gu Moheng paused as he pushed the door open.
For a fleeting moment, the man's tall frame seemed to stiffen, but he didn't turn around. He stood there silently, his back conveying an indescribable sense of loneliness.
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
Just then, Wen's mother's reproachful voice broke the suffocating deadlock.
Wen Chen turned around in surprise, "Mom?"
Wen's mother took his coat and neatly draped it over his shoulders, saying, "Little Gu came all the way to pick you up, how can you let him go back empty-handed?"
As she spoke, she straightened her son's collar.
“But…” Wen Chen tried to put up a final resistance.
With a smile, Wen's mother placed her hands on Wen Chen's shoulders and gently pushed him towards the door. The force wasn't strong, but it was enough to make Wen Chen stumble and step over the threshold.
"Work is important, don't be willful."
Wen's mother's voice sounded from behind, carrying a hint of deeper meaning, "Some things can't be avoided, so go."
Wen Chen stood in the cold wind, looking at her mother in disbelief.
Gu Moheng finally turned around. He stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at Wen Chen who had been "driven" out, a burst of fire erupting in the dead darkness of his eyes. But he restrained himself, only his slightly trembling eyelashes betraying the turmoil in his heart. Facing Wen's mother, he smiled even more gently than before.
Standing at the doorway, Wen's mother's gaze passed over her son's shoulder and landed directly on Gu Moheng. At that moment, the tenderness in her eyes faded, replaced by scrutiny and a heavy sense of entrustment.
It is a silent warning, and also a renewed trust.
Gu Moheng understood. His expression turned solemn, and he bowed deeply to Wen's mother.
Wen's mother smiled with relief and waved her hand, "Take care on the road."
With a "bang".
The ornate iron gate closed behind him, shutting out the warm light inside and completely sealing off Wen Chen's last escape route.
The world has returned to a harsh winter.
Gu Moheng quickly walked to the passenger side and opened the car door with his left hand. His movements were hurried, but he didn't forget to protect the roof from any impact.
Wen Chen stared at the hand with its distinct knuckles for two seconds.
He fell silent, then bent down and sat down.
The car door closed, and the warm air instantly enveloped my entire body, carrying that unsettling yet unavoidable scent of cedarwood.
Gu Moheng walked around the front of the car, got into the driver's seat, and turned his head to greedily trace Wen Chen's profile.
"Fasten your seatbelt."
Wen Chen didn't look at him, coldly pulling on the seatbelt and fastening it with a click. Gu Moheng, however, seemed oblivious to his indifference, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.
The black Maybach slowly glided into the night.
Wen Chen turned his head to look out the window, watching the city lights recede into the distance. The mottled neon lights reflected in his glass, fragmenting his handsome face.
But when he saw that right hand, wrapped in thick bandages, awkwardly resting on the lower edge of the steering wheel, the hatred in his heart began to fester. That hand had warmed his icy feet on countless winter nights.
Now, even turning the steering wheel seems difficult.
Gu Moheng seemed to sense the faint gaze. He subtly lowered his injured hand, skillfully controlling the direction with only his left hand.
"It doesn't hurt."
The man looked straight ahead, then suddenly spoke, his voice as calm as if he were talking about someone else.
Wen Chen turned around abruptly, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"Who asked you?" he said curtly, with an air of barely concealed annoyance.
Gu Moheng chuckled softly, a hint of pleasure in his voice, "It's what I wanted to say myself."
Taking advantage of a pause at the red light, he turned to look at Wen Chen. His deep eyes reflected the flowing traffic and Wen Chen's awkward face.
"As long as you're here, it won't hurt."
Sweet words came unexpectedly.
Wen Chen's heart skipped a beat.
A surge of shame and anger welled up inside me.
That's so unfair!
“President Gu,” he took a deep breath, forcing himself to put on a cold face, and looked directly at Gu Moheng, “Do you think playing the victim will work?”
The green light comes on.
Gu Moheng restarted the car, his gaze turning deep. "If it's useful to you."
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his voice barely audible, "Then I'm willing to keep selling."
Wen Chen choked.
He had never seen Gu Moheng so shameless. Eight years had not only taught this man how to fight for power, but also how to be shameless in matters of the heart.
Wen Chen angrily turned her head away and ignored him.
Outside the car window, the bustling street scene gradually became familiar; it was the road leading to Gu Moheng's apartment.
A cool, melancholic piano melody filled the carriage, attempting to fill the silence between the two.
Gu Moheng held the steering wheel with one hand, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but his peripheral vision remained fixed on the person in the passenger seat.
Wen Chen turned his head to look out the window, the flickering light of the streetlights flashing across his face.
The faint smell of cooking oil and the lemon scent of dish soap still seemed to linger around Gu Moheng's nose. It was the smell of the Wen family. It was the smell he had longed for countless times in his dreams, yet had shattered with his own hands eight years ago.
“Uncle and Aunt have a very good relationship.” He suddenly spoke, his voice low and filled with undisguised envy.
Wen Chen didn't look away from the window, only giving a curt "hmm".
"That kind of life where we bicker over tofu pudding for tomorrow morning..." Gu Moheng paused, recalling Wen's father mentioning tofu pudding twice. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, the gauze rubbing against the steering wheel cover making a soft rustling sound.
"Very extravagant."
Wen Chen finally turned her head, a mocking smile curving her lips. "With President Gu's financial resources, buying an entire tofu pudding factory wouldn't be a problem."
Gu Moheng wasn't angry at Wen Chen's barbed words. On the contrary, he cherished Wen Chen's vibrant emotions at that moment, even if they were directed at him.
"You know that's not what I meant."
Gu Moheng took the opportunity of changing lanes to give him a deep look.
Gu Moheng's mind kept replaying the way Wen's parents interacted. It was a kind of respect based on equality, a tacit understanding that even if the sky were to fall, he would stand up for them together.
And what about him?
Eight years ago, the Gu family mansion was on the verge of collapse.
He saw himself as playing the tragic hero. He thought Wen Chen was an artist in an ivory tower, whose hands should be on canvas, not stained with the mud of business warfare. So he chose to conceal the truth, unilaterally cut ties, and force Wen Chen away in the most decisive way.
"If only back then..."
Gu Moheng's Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice became somewhat dry, "If only I had been like Uncle back then, laying everything out in the open and discussing it with you..."
There are no "ifs".
Wen Chen gently interrupted him, turned around, and stared intently at Gu Moheng, "What's the point of saying all this now?"
"Eight years have passed. What makes you think that a belated hypothetical scenario can erase those three thousand days and nights?"
Wen Chen's icy words gripped Gu Moheng's heart like an invisible hand, causing him excruciating pain. He knew it was pointless, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Will the ending be different?
The traffic ahead gradually came to a stop.
A blinding expanse of red lights stretched out at the edge of the field of vision, as if trying to burn through the darkness.
The carriage fell silent again because of the conversation that had just taken place.
All that could be heard was the faint rumble of the engine and the rhythmic breathing of the two people.
Wen Chen leaned back wearily in his chair, closed his eyes, and refused to engage in any further communication. His resistant posture was like an impregnable fortress, keeping out anyone who tried to integrate into his life.
Gu Moheng looked at his pale profile, at his tightly furrowed brows even with his eyes closed. An unprecedented sense of defeat, mixed with immense panic, instantly overwhelmed him.
He returned to China this time with a determination to succeed. He used forceful means to invade Wen Chen's life, used pain to gain sympathy, and used interests to bind their relationship.
It seems like they are proceeding cautiously and pressing forward step by step.
In reality, with every step he took closer, Wen Chen would retreat a step in his heart. In Wen Chen's eyes, he saw resistance, disgust, and even hatred.
There was no love.
This realization sent a chill down his spine, a chill that had long since pierced the heart of the business world.
Perhaps he was wrong again.
He's been wrong for the past eight years.
Even now, he is still trying to solve a dead end that he himself had written down in the wrong way.
The red light has 90 seconds left.
It felt like a century.
Gu Moheng slowly loosened his grip on the steering wheel, his palms covered in cold sweat. He stared at the endless red halo ahead, the halo spreading across his eyes, blurring the boundary between reality and memory.
"Wen Chen".
Gu Moheng's voice was extremely soft, so soft that it seemed to be swallowed up by the sound of the engine idling.
Wen Chen didn't open his eyes; only his slightly trembling eyelashes proved that he was listening.
Gu Moheng turned his head, his gaze almost greedily tracing his outline, his eyes filled with confusion and helplessness, like a child who had completely lost his way in a maze.
He spoke abruptly, as if asking the person next to him, or questioning his own self-righteousness.
"Did I... use the wrong approach from the very beginning?"
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