Chapter 55 Epilogue (2) A lifetime is long, Mr. Gu. ...
When you push open the heavy glass door leading to the backyard, the biting cold air instantly cuts through the warmth inside.
Gu Moheng didn't stop walking; instead, he gripped Wen Chen's hand tightly. His palm had calluses, but it was very warm.
This place was once an abandoned material storage yard, but now it is surprisingly clean and tidy. The dark gray anti-corrosion wood floor gleams calmly in the moonlight, and the surrounding area is planted with hardy shrubs that have not yet sprouted, their bare branches covered with a thin layer of frost, standing silently in the wind.
In the center of the courtyard stood a solitary sapling. Its trunk was only as thick as a wrist, swaying slightly in the cold winter wind, appearing somewhat frail, yet its unsprouted branches stubbornly stretched straight towards the dark blue night sky.
Wen Chen stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on the tree, his pupils trembling slightly.
It is a camphor tree.
"You recognized it?" Gu Moheng pulled him quickly to the tree, his fingertips tracing the rough, cold bark, but his eyes were as gentle as if he were looking at a child. "This is a sapling of the old camphor tree behind the library of University A."
Wen Chen's heart clenched. He remembered the old camphor tree with its lush foliage, and that summer when dappled shadows fell on Gu Moheng's flamboyant eyes. The young man smiled spiritedly and said, "Wen Chen, when we have a home in the future, we should plant one like this too."
The sun was shining brightly, and the cicadas were chirping noisily. They sat side by side under the tree, making the mundane wish that "we will be the same year after year," thinking that such days would last forever.
“I’ve had a botany professor cultivate it for a long time.” Gu Moheng turned around, leaning against the slender tree trunk, his gaze fixed intently on Wen Chen, his eyes churning with a complex mix of emotions.
"During the toughest years in New York, I often dreamed of that tree, and I dreamed of you standing under it, wearing a white shirt, your eyes crinkling with laughter."
The two were separated by a half-step. In the cold air, their breaths mingled into white mist, swirling and refusing to dissipate.
"Can it survive being transplanted in such cold weather?" Wen Chen looked down at the freshly turned soil at the tree roots, her tone revealing neither joy nor sorrow.
“It will survive.” Gu Moheng answered decisively, “I hired the best gardener, who comes to take care of it every day.”
He suddenly reached out and grabbed Wen Chen's wrist again, his grip almost out of control, the veins throbbing beneath his touch. Wen Chen staggered, her chest colliding with Gu Moheng's hard shoulder, the other's scent lingering in her mind.
"Wen Chen, I want it to live." Gu Moheng's voice was obsessive. "I want to watch it grow up, grow into a towering tree."
"And then?" Wen Chen raised her head, her cool eyes looking directly at him.
“Once its canopy provides shade, we’ll sit under it and drink tea.” Gu Moheng’s eyes burned with passion, and his long-suppressed possessiveness poured out without reservation at this moment. “Watch it sprout in spring, listen to its leaves rustling in summer, and sweep away its fallen leaves in autumn.”
He paused, then said, "Wen Chen, I want to be with you, for ten years, twenty years, fifty years, a lifetime."
This was not a discussion or a request, but an obsession that had fermented during those long, dark years. It was his only salvation when he was struggling in the abyss and looking up at the light.
Wen Chen looked at the man before her. The Gu Moheng of today was no longer the arrogant and unrestrained youth he once was. He had become powerful and composed, wielding power as if he possessed the entire world. Yet, deep within his eyes lay a fragile fear, a deep-seated anxiety about gain and loss.
The resentment of being abandoned, the days and nights spent licking one's wounds alone, the grievances and unwillingness surging in the dead of night... all seemed to gradually become less sharp in front of this camphor tree sapling that had not yet grown.
“A lifetime is long, Mr. Gu,” Wen Chen said softly.
Gu Moheng suddenly lowered his head, his forehead pressed heavily against Wen Chen's, their noses touching, his warm breath spraying onto Wen Chen's face. "A lifetime is not enough..." His eyes reddened, his voice trembling with ruthlessness, "Wen Chen, you and I will never be apart, even in life and death."
The moonlight, like water, poured down on the two of them, stretching their intertwined shadows long and thin.
Wen Chen felt Gu Moheng's body tremble. He slowly raised his hand and wrapped it around Gu Moheng's waist, feeling the firm muscles and warm body temperature. "Then let's continue in the next life."
He tilted his head slightly and took the initiative to kiss those two cool, thin lips.
The moment their lips met, Gu Moheng's mind went blank for a second, then his arms tightened suddenly, as if he wanted to crush the person in his arms and embed him into his body. He deepened the kiss, with the madness and devotion of something lost and regained, and in the cold winter night, beside the camphor tree that held the past, he rekindled the flame of the future.
Gu Moheng added vaguely, "Anyway, your name is engraved on that bronze plaque. You can't run away even if you want to."
Wen Chen chuckled softly, raising her hand to touch the corner of his eye. The warmth of her fingertips made Gu Moheng tremble slightly. He didn't speak, only responding with a kiss, lingering and tender, as if all his expectations had melted into the moonlight of this cold night.
A few days later, the opening ceremony of MoChen Atelier was held as scheduled.
A rare warm winter sun pierced through the clouds, dispelling the chill of days of accumulated snow and casting its rays upon the red-brick factory walls along the river. Luxury cars lined the factory floor, with half of the financial and construction industries in attendance, their elegant attire and dazzling presence a testament to the attention and admiration they garnered.
Gu Moheng stood at the door, dressed in a meticulously tailored dark black three-piece suit, his hair neatly combed back. His face wore an impeccable, businesslike smile, devoid of any warmth, and his aura was as cold as ice. Only when his gaze fell upon Wen Chen would that layer of ice instantly melt away, transforming into a gentle wave that could not be hidden in his eyes.
Wen Chen stood beside him, his light gray cashmere suit outlining his slender yet upright figure. The collar of his untied tie was slightly open, exuding the casualness and refined elegance unique to an artist. He occasionally turned his head to speak softly with the guests, his voice gentle and his demeanor composed, perfectly balancing Gu Moheng's sharp, unapproachable aura.
The sight of the two standing side by side became the most eye-catching scene at the entrance.
As soon as the auspicious hour arrived, the emcee finished his enthusiastic opening remarks and handed the microphone to Wen Chen. The spotlight suddenly focused, making his handsome features even more distinct.
The audience fell silent instantly, all eyes turning to the person in the light and shadow.
Gu Moheng stood in the shadows to the side and behind, his hands in his pockets, his gaze greedily fixed on his radiant lover, his eyes filled with an intense, unyielding infatuation.
"The establishment of MoChen Atelier is not just a combination of two names, but also a reunion of rationality and sensibility." Wen Chen's voice resounded throughout the venue through the microphone, clear and firm.
He paused, his gaze falling on Gu Moheng. "Here, I would like to announce the first public welfare project since the establishment of the firm."
This was not mentioned in the previous flowchart.
As soon as he finished speaking, the huge LED screen behind Wen Chen suddenly lit up, and an old photograph slowly appeared. The picture showed an old house in the style of a Suzhou garden, with upturned eaves, carved beams and painted rafters. Its simple and elegant outline concealed the mottled traces of time.
The Gu family's old house is where Gu Moheng grew up, but it was forced to be mortgaged and auctioned off during bankruptcy liquidation eight years ago. "We will renovate this old house and convert it into a public library, which will be open to the public free of charge."
Wen Chen's voice was gentle yet powerful, each word striking Gu Moheng's heart: "In this way, we commemorate Mr. Gu Moheng's parents; and in this way, we begin a new chapter of walking side by side."
The applause from the audience was thunderous and lasted for a long time.
Gu Moheng seemed deaf, only hearing the roar of blood rushing to his ears. He watched Wen Chen walk off the stage and go straight to his side. Almost instinctively, he grasped Wen Chen's hand, which was hanging by his side.
Wen Chen grasped his hand in return, the warmth of her palm flowing over him, soothing his trembling hand.
As night fell and the guests departed, the rooftop terrace of the firm became exceptionally tranquil after the hustle and bustle subsided.
A biting wind swept through, swirling up the remaining snow on the ground, which drifted past the railings and onto the dark river surface. Gu Moheng took off his coat and carefully draped it over Wen Chen, holding a bottle of decanted champagne and two wine glasses in his hands.
"It's too cold. Finish this drink and then go downstairs." Gu Moheng's voice was a little hoarse, clearly still not completely shaken off the emotions from the day.
The amber-colored liquor was poured into the glass, and tiny bubbles rose continuously, refracting delicate light under the moonlight. The two leaned side by side against the railing, with the city's dazzling lights below them. The river breeze carried a chill, but it couldn't dispel the warmth that surrounded them.
"What are you toasting?" Wen Chen picked up her wine glass and gently swirled it, turning her head to look at him with a gentle smile in her eyes and brows.
Gu Moheng's gaze fell on the tip of his nose, which was slightly red from the cold wind. A memory flashed through his mind of two boys under a tree, their fingers intertwined, laughing foolishly. "A tribute to the two fools who made wishes under the camphor tree many years ago." He smiled self-deprecatingly, but his eyes were filled with deep affection.
Wen Chen raised an eyebrow, raised her glass and gently clinked it against his; the crisp sound of the glass clashing was particularly clear in the cold night. "To us, after eight years, finally learning to stand side by side," he corrected.
Gu Moheng was taken aback, then tilted his head back and downed the wine in his glass in one gulp. The pungent alcohol slid down his throat, burning his heart.
He put down his wine glass, disregarding that they were on a terrace, and hugged Wen Chen from behind, burying his face deep in his warm scarf, his voice muffled: "Let's go home."
-
It was late at night when I got back to the apartment.
Wen Chen went to the bathroom to wash up first, while Gu Moheng habitually went into the study to deal with the remaining emails.
In the center of the desk sat a lone blue folder. Gu Moheng frowned; he remembered that this folder hadn't been on the desk before he left. He walked over and his slender fingers opened the cover.
[MoChen Atelier Equity Transfer Agreement]
Several bold characters immediately caught the eye, and the gaze quickly moved downwards: "Party A, Wen Chen, voluntarily transfers 50% of his equity to Party B, Gu Moheng, free of charge." At the very bottom of the agreement, Wen Chen's signature was already affixed.
Next to the signature was a light yellow sticky note, also written in Wen Chen's handwriting.
Your name is on the plaque, and it should also be on the shareholding certificate. Don't be moved; remember to go for notarization tomorrow. —Wen Chen
Gu Moheng's hand holding the document began to tremble. Clutching the agreement, he strode out of the study and headed straight for the guest room.
"Knock knock." Gu Moheng stood at the door, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
"Come in," came Wen Chen's slightly sleepy voice from inside.
Gu Moheng pushed open the door and entered.
Only a dim wall lamp was left on by the bedside. Wen Chen closed her eyes and leaned against the headboard, holding a book in her hand, her glasses still on.
Gu Moheng strode to the bedside, placed the agreement on the bedside table, and looked into Wen Chen's deep eyes, where a deep affection that could drown a person surged. He reached out and carefully took Wen Chen's hand, which was resting on the blanket.
"Wen Chen, have I ever told you..." Gu Moheng's voice was dry, with a hint of sob in it.
"I've said it many times." Wen Chen closed her eyes, seemingly somewhat helpless, but the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "I love you, I know."
"Then say it again." Gu Moheng lowered his head and kissed Wen Chen's hand reverently. His warm lips touched Wen Chen's slightly cool skin, and every word he uttered was as heavy as a thousand pounds. "I love you. I love you more than I love my life."
The air was still for a few seconds, broken only by the steady breathing of the two. Wen Chen slowly opened her eyes, took off her glasses and placed them aside, her clear eyes looking at the man beside the bed in the dim light.
“…Come here,” Wen Chen said softly.
Gu Moheng was stunned for a moment, not quite understanding.
Wen Chen lifted a corner of the blanket, patted the spot next to her, and said in an unquestionable tone, "Get into bed and go to sleep."
Gu Moheng slipped into bed, stretched out his long arm, and skillfully pulled Wen Chen into his embrace, his chin pressed firmly against Wen Chen's neck. The familiar cool fragrance lingered around his nose; this was his true home.
After a long day of tension, Gu Moheng finally relaxed, tightening his arms around the person in his embrace.
"Go to sleep." Wen Chen found a comfortable position in his arms, her voice gradually lowering. "We still need to choose the font for the wedding invitations tomorrow."
Gu Moheng froze, as if struck by lightning, completely rooted to the spot. "Choose...what?" He wondered if he had misheard.
"Wedding invitations." Wen Chen said lazily, her eyes closed. "If we're going to have a wedding, it should at least be a decent one."
"Okay," Gu Moheng replied in a trembling voice, "I'll choose the best, whatever you say."
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