Chapter 20 Cohabitation (8) Some things, you'll never forget. ...
The rain churned in the clouds and then fell even harder. The icy water splashed onto my trouser legs, and the chill, like vines, silently climbed up my skin and into my heart.
"Do you still remember..." Gu Moheng's voice rang out again, piercing through the sound of the pouring rain, carrying a hint of cautious probing.
Wen Chen's gaze remained fixed straight ahead, not even her long eyelashes trembling slightly, as if she had become one with the rain curtain, her focus almost deliberate.
"...You said that when you become a famous architect in the future," Gu Moheng's gaze fell on the tightly locked glass door that couldn't reflect the past, "you would buy this place."
“You said the chairs here are too hard and the lighting is bad. You want to redesign it yourself after you buy it. And you want it in that old spot by the window,” Gu Moheng said slowly, each word carefully chosen from his memories, “to build me a special bookshelf, filled with all those… financial books that you find utterly boring.”
Gu Moheng's voice was muffled by the sound of rain, making it sound somewhat indistinct. As the last word fell, all that remained was the frantic roar of the rain, as if it wanted to drown the two souls, both drenched and disheveled by memories, under the narrow eaves of the small house.
Wen Chen turned her head. The eyes behind her glasses, which were always filled with a gentle smile, could no longer maintain their calm facade. The emotions in her eyes were surging violently, like a raging storm about to burst through the dam.
This agreement...
This was a promise that even he himself had deliberately buried deep in his memory, one he never dared to touch!
It was during a student council gathering in his sophomore year that, after getting drunk, he rested his head on Gu Moheng's lap. In his slightly tipsy state, with the unique madness and innocence of youth, he sketched out a blueprint for the future in a vague yet firm tone. There was him, there was Gu Moheng, there was an "afternoon" that he had personally designed, belonging only to the two of them.
But why should Gu Moheng? Why should he so casually and cruelly tear open those bloody memories again after he had already wrapped up and treated that hideous wound so thoroughly and seemingly made it look as good as new?
Just as the surge of pain and anger welled up in his chest and was about to burst forth—
Buzz—Buzz—
The sudden vibration of his phone in his pocket was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the emotions that were about to erupt within him. Wen Chen frowned slightly and took out his phone. The name flashing on the screen was [Zhao Peng - Architecture Department, University A], a college classmate he had rarely contacted since graduation.
He took a deep breath of the cold, damp air, forcefully suppressing all the emotions surging in his throat and about to burst forth, and pressed the answer button with his knuckles turning white.
"Hey, Zhao Peng." His voice, against the backdrop of the torrential rain, remained as gentle as ever, showing no trace of the inner turmoil he had just experienced.
A cheerful, surprised laugh came from the other end of the phone from a former classmate: "Wen Chen! I just heard from the dean that he ran into you, and also... Gu Moheng?" His tone revealed an undisguised gossip.
Wen Chen's gaze swept across the white curtain of rain in front of her eyes, and then quickly and imperceptibly across the profile of the man beside her.
“Hmm,” Wen Chen looked away, her voice as flat as if she were stating the weather, “I just ran into her.”
"You two... this is a once-in-a-lifetime photo together! How about it, since you're both back at school, how about we have dinner together tonight? I stayed on at the university after graduating with my PhD, and I happen to be here today, so I'm practically a local. There's no time like the present, how about it, please do me the honor, Mr. Wen?"
Wen Chen's mind raced through several thorny issues regarding the integration of warmth into the "Homecoming" project. Zhao Peng's decision to stay at the university to teach might provide some unexpected firsthand information and insights.
It is convenient for both public and private purposes.
He hesitated for a moment, then almost immediately agreed: "Okay, where should we meet? I'll be there now."
"Okay, see you at the usual place!" The phone rang and the call ended abruptly.
Wen Chen put down her phone and slowly pushed up her glasses, which were damp with moisture, with her fingertips. When she looked up again, the tumultuous emotions stirred up by Gu Moheng's words in her beautiful eyes behind the lenses had completely subsided.
"I'm going to see a classmate."
He turned to the side, his movement subtle yet firm, creating an undeniable distance between himself and Gu Moheng.
"Please go ahead, Mr. Gu."
“Perfect timing,” Gu Moheng said, a slightly stiff smile curving his lips, but his voice was deep and unyielding. “I’ve finished my work here too.”
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them without a word, so close they could feel each other's damp chill. "I know most of your classmates too. Why don't we go together?"
Wen Chen looked at him without speaking. His handsome face was expressionless, except for the gentle smile that usually graced his lips for social interactions, which had completely vanished. He stopped looking at Gu Moheng and stepped straight out of the narrow, suffocating roof, back into the fine, cold winter rain, letting the raindrops instantly soak his shoulders.
The cold rain, whipped up by the wind, slanted against my face.
Behind him, Gu Moheng's footsteps followed at a steady pace, like a shadow that could never be shaken off.
Gu Moheng watched that slender, resolute figure walk away without looking back, his heart feeling as if it were being slowly seeped into by endless, fine rain, cold and numb, a dull pain rising within him, almost like weightlessness. He took long strides and followed, letting the sudden, icy winter rain soak his expensive cashmere coat.
The two walked silently, one after the other, along the deserted sycamore-lined path. Rainwater cascaded down the ground, forming small streams that reflected the leaden sky and their long, thin shadows, sometimes intersecting, sometimes separating.
No one spoke.
Wen Chen's car was parked not far away. He opened the car door, got into the driver's seat, and the car still carried the chilly feeling he had when he arrived. Just as he was about to close the door, a hand with distinct knuckles, covered in cold moisture, suddenly pressed down on the edge of the door.
Gu Moheng bent down, and rainwater slid down his sharply defined jawline, dripping onto the leather inside the car door, spreading out a small patch of dark, glaring water stains.
“I’ll drive.” His voice was unusually hoarse from the sound of the rain and some kind of suppressed emotion.
Wen Chen looked up and met a pair of eyes that seemed unfathomable in the rain, yet burned with a dark fire, through the blurry, water-covered car window.
The only sounds in the air were the patter of rain and the silent struggle between the two. Knowing Gu Moheng as he did, Wen Chen knew that the man's stubbornness at this moment would continue indefinitely. His gaze swept over Gu Moheng's soaked hair and dripping ends, and finally, he released his grip on the steering wheel, silently got out of the car, walked around to the other side, and sat in the passenger seat.
"Where to?" Gu Moheng got into the driver's seat, closed the door, and finally shut out the noisy, cold rain for the time being. The small space inside the car was immediately filled with the dampness from their bodies.
Wen Chen turned her head to look at the street scene outside the window, blurred by the rain and rushing past, her voice flat and devoid of any emotion.
"East Gate of University A, Old Street Hot Pot".
The white Bentley smoothly drove out of the campus and merged into the city traffic. The windshield wipers swung rhythmically from side to side in front of him, clearing a brief patch of clarity only to be quickly blurred by new rain. Just like the dusty memories that had just been stirred up in his heart, yet he had to forcefully suppress them.
Inside the car, the heater was on full blast, but it couldn't dispel the damp chill between the two of them.
Wen Chen didn't speak again. He turned his head to look out the window at the familiar yet gradually becoming unfamiliar street.
The old street is still the same old street, only the shops on both sides have changed time and again, and everything has changed. Only the red neon sign of "Old Street Hot Pot" still stubbornly shines in the gray rainy night.
The moment the heavy glass door was pushed open, a wave of scalding heat, mixed with the intense aroma of chili peppers and rich butter, rushed out. The boisterous voices, the clattering of bowls and chopsticks, and the bubbling of the hot pot instantly washed away the deathly silence that had been maintained between the two of them.
Wen Chen subconsciously squinted, needing a little time to adjust to this long-lost, bustling world full of life. This was a world completely different from the refined and quiet environment he had been accustomed to for the past eight years.
"Wen Chen! Over here!"
Wen Chen immediately spotted a man in a plaid shirt waving excitedly at him from the window seat.
Zhao Peng had a loud voice and a bright smile.
Wen Chen's lips curled into a perfectly timed smile, befitting a reunion with an old friend, as he walked past the already packed crowd. Gu Moheng followed half a step behind him, stepping into this long-lost, bustling place brimming with the warmth of everyday life. His tall figure and the innate, undeniable aura of elite status seemed out of place in this noisy, crowded, and steaming hot pot restaurant.
"You're something else, kid. You haven't changed a bit all these years since graduation. You're still so..." Zhao Peng stood up, looked him up and down, racking his brains for words, "Tsk, gentle and refined like jade!"
Then, his gaze passed over Wen Chen and landed on Gu Moheng behind him.
Zhao Peng's smile froze instantly, then turned into shock.
"Holy crap! Gu Shen really came?!" Zhao Peng's smile held a deeper meaning.
Gu Moheng, the academic genius of the finance department back then, was given the title of "god" by busybodies because of his outstanding face and equally outstanding family background.
Gu Moheng nodded slightly to him, his expression indifferent.
Zhao Peng's gaze darted back and forth between the two, filled with disbelief. As Wen Chen approached, he immediately leaned closer and softly asked, "You two...really came together?"
Zhao Peng had reserved a booth by the window, with only two rows of leather seats facing each other. Wen Chen walked to the opposite side of Zhao Peng, took off her wet trench coat, and casually draped it over the back of the chair.
"We met on the road," he explained casually.
Gu Moheng didn't speak, and calmly sat down next to Wen Chen. His deep eyes calmly swept over the nine-compartment copper pot on the table, which was bubbling with thick red oil, as if it were all perfectly natural.
The backs of their hands brushed gently against each other.
Wen Chen's body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment.
Gu Moheng's fingertips recoiled violently as if they had been burned by hot coals.
Zhao Peng looked at this one, then at that one, his eyes practically blazing with gossip. "Great, it's good to run into you, great to run into you!" He picked up a beer from the table and, without a word, filled both of their glasses. "Enough talk, we're not leaving until we're both drunk!"
Wen Chen looked at the glass of clear yellow beer in front of him, which was covered with fine white foam, and pushed up his glasses.
"I'm driving."
"What's there to be afraid of!" Zhao Peng waved his hand. "We'll find a designated driver later! We have to drink tonight!"
Just then, Gu Moheng reached out, picked up the full glass of beer in front of Wen Chen, and, under Zhao Peng's surprised gaze and Wen Chen's slightly stunned stare, tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp. Then, he raised his hand to beckon the waiter, his voice steady: "A cup of hot soy milk, no sugar."
Zhao Peng was stunned.
Wen Chen paused almost imperceptibly as he picked up his chopsticks to eat.
"You..." Zhao Peng looked at Gu Moheng, opened his mouth, and after a long while, he managed to utter a sentence, his voice full of disbelief, "You still remember?"
Gu Moheng didn't look at him. His gaze was lowered. He picked up the serving chopsticks on the table and skillfully picked up a piece of tripe that was perfectly cooked and slightly curled from the boiling red oil pot. Then, he placed it steadily into the dipping sauce dish in front of Wen Chen.
“There are some things,” he said in a low voice, almost drowned out by the clamor of the crowd, “that I will never forget.”
Wen Chen's heart was pierced by that gaze and those words. A searing pain, accompanied by a sharp, aching sensation, instantly spread to every part of her body.
He lowered his eyes, staring untouched at the fragrant piece of tripe on the plate, a symbol of past habits. Silently, he picked up his chopsticks, avoiding the tripe, and reached for the clear broth, taking a bite of bland cabbage and quietly putting it in his mouth.
The waiter quickly brought over steaming hot soy milk.
The warm touch of the white porcelain cup traveled through my fingertips, dispelling some of the chill of the rainy night, but it couldn't dispel the frozen ground in my heart.
Zhao Peng seemed to finally realize something, slapped his thigh, and scanned the two of them with an "I understand" look, his smile ambiguous and mischievous.
"I understand, I understand! It was my fault for being inconsiderate!"
He raised his glass, "Then, Gu Shen, I toast to you!"
The red oil in the hot pot churned and bubbled violently in the copper pot, and the rising white steam blurred their faces.
Gu Moheng's gaze remained fixed on him, not missing any subtle expression on his face.
"Eat this," Gu Moheng suddenly said, using serving chopsticks to pick up a slice of fatty beef, rinsing it briefly before precisely removing it from the water before placing it in his bowl.
Zhao Peng clicked his tongue and nudged Gu Moheng with his elbow. "Alright, Gu Shen, stop focusing on our great designer Wen. Eat some too."
Wen Chen looked at the slice of pink beef in the bowl, and her fingers slowly tightened around her chopsticks.
“By the way, Wen Chen,” Zhao Peng picked up a piece of duck blood, as if he suddenly remembered something, “Do you remember that winter in your junior year when you had acute gastroenteritis, vomiting and having diarrhea? We were all terrified.”
Wen Chen's eyelashes trembled slightly.
"Gu Shen was so awesome back then," Zhao Peng's mouth never stopped, like a walking memory player, "He carried you to the school hospital without saying a word. It was snowing heavily that day, and we couldn't catch up with him even if we followed behind!"
"Later, when you were getting an IV drip at the hospital, Gu Shen went to that old-fashioned porridge shop outside the school and waited in line for almost an hour to buy you a bowl of hot porridge. He fed you spoonful by spoonful... Oh my, the scene was so sweet, it almost blinded us single guys!"
“Clatter.”
A soft sound.
One of Wen Chen's chopsticks fell onto the table.
Every word Zhao Peng uttered was like a red-hot steel needle, piercing deep into his memory.
That snowy night, he leaned against Gu Moheng's chest, smelling his clean and pleasant scent, and drank that bowl of porridge that warmed his heart, thinking that it would last a lifetime.
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