Chapter 42 Glimmer (11) Not only is the design excellent, but this 'phase'...
The snow outside the window was softened by the midday sun, and the melting water dripped down the windowsill, the sound of dripping water tapping against the window frame.
The signing ceremony for the Seaside Art Center project is scheduled for 3 PM. For Mosheng Capital, this is a crucial step in its expansion; for Wen Chen, it marks the formal realization of his long-dormant architectural concept. This is a highly anticipated event both within and outside the industry.
The walk-in closet door was open, and warm light outlined the slender, upright figure inside.
Gu Moheng leaned against the door frame, his gaze tracing the silhouette inside.
Wen Chen had just changed into a custom-made white shirt. The crisp fabric clung to his slender yet not thin back, highlighting the clear outline of his shoulder blades. As he adjusted his collar, the shirt accentuated his waistline, every line silently tugging at Gu Moheng's heart.
Gu Moheng felt a little parched. Even just looking at him like this, the beast called possessiveness was already raging through his veins.
Wen Chen had already noticed the burning gaze behind him, his slender fingers calmly fastening his cufflinks one by one. His gaze finally fell on the tie rack, where a dozen or so ties of various colors hung, mostly cool tones: dark blue, charcoal gray, and jet black—all in Gu Moheng's style, exuding an aloof, elite air. Yet, not a single one suited his current mood.
His fingers hovered between several ties, hesitating for no more than two seconds, when a low, husky voice came from behind him, cautiously probing: "This one might be more suitable." Gu Moheng's voice sounded from behind.
Wen Chen looked up into the mirror. Gu Moheng had already walked half a step behind him, holding a wine-red embroidered tie in his hands. The silk tie shimmered softly under the overhead light, with subtle gold rose patterns hidden in the fabric's texture, understated yet flamboyant.
This was a gift Wen Chen bought for Gu Moheng eight years ago on his twentieth birthday, using two months' worth of his internship salary. At that time, the Gu family was at its peak, and young master Gu had seen all sorts of luxuries. Wen Chen was worried that this gift was too shabby.
When Gu Moheng received the tie, he hugged him and spun him around several times, even saying somewhat foolishly that he would wear it for a lifetime, his eyes shining brighter than the stars.
After the breakup, Wen Chen assumed it had long been thrown into the trash or forgotten in some unknown corner.
Surprisingly, it's still there.
It was even preserved in pristine condition, without a single crease.
"You still kept it?" Wen Chen turned around, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger, only his fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly.
Gu Moheng's fingers tightened, his fingertips tracing the cool silk. He lowered his head, his forehead stray hairs obscuring his eyes. "I've always kept it."
The air was silent for a few seconds, then Gu Moheng took another half step forward: "Now... could you let me help you put it on?"
Wen Chen looked at the man in front of him, dressed in a well-tailored haute couture suit. He should have had the aura of a powerful and influential person, but in front of him, he always humbled himself to the dust.
Wen Chen slightly raised her chin, revealing her slender neck.
Gu Moheng's heart skipped a beat, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. He held his breath, trying his best to control himself, and wrapped his tie around Wen Chen's collar.
The two were so close that Wen Chen could kiss the top of his head with just a slight tilt of her head.
"alright."
Gu Moheng withdrew his hand, his fingertips lingeringly brushing against Wen Chen's Adam's apple, sending a slight shiver down his spine. Wen Chen lowered his eyes, glancing at the perfectly tied Windsor knot on his chest, his most familiar way of tying it.
"Thanks." Wen Chen said calmly, raising his hand to straighten his collar, his gaze falling on Gu Moheng's collar.
The gray striped tie looks somewhat familiar.
Wen Chen raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over Gu Moheng. "And what about you?"
Gu Moheng subconsciously touched his tie, a very faint smile curving his lips. "Isn't this color nice?"
Wen Chen narrowed his eyes. This wasn't just a matter of looks. The pattern and style of this tie were clearly the same one he wore last year when he won the only international architecture award.
The photos were published in industry magazines for a whole month.
“That’s a limited edition,” Wen Chen pointed out the key point, “It’s been discontinued for a long time.”
“I contacted the brand and had them make a custom copy,” Gu Moheng replied confidently, a glint in his eyes. “Although I missed your moment of glory.”
Gu Moheng took a step closer, "But for today's signing ceremony, I want to be on the same page as you."
"Wen Chen, I want everyone to see," Gu Moheng's voice was deep and resolute, "that we are together."
Inside the most upscale banquet hall in the coastal city, the champagne tower reflects the shimmering light from the crystal chandelier.
Gu Moheng stood at the edge of the crowd, a glass of untouched red wine in his hand. His impeccably tailored bespoke suit perfectly enveloped his powerful physique, and his gray striped tie was tied with utmost care.
It was the same tie as Wen Chen's. Just thinking about that made Gu Moheng's eyes, which had always been filled with an icy coldness, melt away.
"Mr. Gu, you've really gone all out on this bid for the Seaside Art Center." A portly investor approached, smiling broadly as he probed, "Aren't you worried that Designer Wen won't be able to handle such a large project?"
Gu Moheng didn't look at him; his gaze swept past the crowd and precisely locked onto the figure in the center of the hall.
"It's worth it." He spoke sparingly, but his tone was one of unwavering certainty.
That was Wen Chen. The young man stood tall and straight, his burgundy tie standing out against his pure white shirt like a rose blooming in the snow. He was surrounded by a group of industry leaders, chatting and laughing amiably. The gold-rimmed glasses on his nose gleamed coldly, yet couldn't conceal the confidence and composure in his eyes and brows. Occasionally, when he raised his hand to demonstrate a design concept, the curve of his fingertips exuded elegance.
Gu Moheng felt his throat go dry, his gaze fixed on that outstanding face.
Ten years ago, Wen Chen shone brightly in the campus debate competition, captivating Gu Moheng at first sight. Back then, Gu Moheng wanted to hide him away, to conceal him in a corner where only he could see him. This dark possessiveness did not wither during the eight years of separation; instead, it grew wildly like weeds.
He subconsciously rubbed his cufflinks, which Wen Chen had fastened for him before he left home earlier that day. He had to restrain himself, to suppress the urge to rush over and gouge out the eyes of those staring at Wen Chen.
Now, Wen Chen is a soaring eagle, not a caged sparrow. All he can do is guard every line of defense for Wen Chen in this world of fame and fortune, filled with pleasure and debauchery.
Gu Moheng couldn't help but smile, and the lingering gloom in his eyes vanished instantly, leaving only an almost devout infatuation.
Just then, a waiter approached Wen Chen with a tray laden with chilled whiskey. The brief incident had prompted many to come over and toast Wen Chen, the ice cubes in their glasses clinking together.
Wen Chen smiled and politely agreed. He had a sensitive stomach and couldn't tolerate cold food or strong liquor, but in this situation, refusing seemed impolite. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out, his fingertips about to touch the cold glass.
A large, bony hand suddenly cut him off.
Wen Chen was startled, then turned and met Gu Moheng's gaze. The other man had somehow slipped through the crowd and was standing half a step behind him. Ignoring the astonished looks around them, his eyes were only on Wen Chen.
He quickly took a glass of room-temperature freshly squeezed orange juice from another waiter's tray as if he had done it a thousand times before, and handed it to Wen Chen.
"Change to this." Gu Moheng's voice was very low, only the two of them could hear it, "It's snowing outside, the temperature is low, your stomach can't handle that."
Wen Chen looked at the orange juice in his hand, the orange-yellow liquid shimmering slightly under the light. He looked up and met Gu Moheng's eyes, which were filled with an overwhelming concern and love, almost overflowing.
He didn't draw a clear line as usual. Under everyone's watchful eyes, Wen Chen took the glass of orange juice, a very faint smile playing on his lips: "Thank you, President Gu." He tilted his head back and drank it down, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each swallow, until the glass of room-temperature freshly squeezed orange juice was empty.
Gu Moheng stared at that small, white Adam's apple, his eyes dark and unreadable, his fingertips itching, suppressing the urge to pounce and bite it.
Wen Chen placed the empty glass back on the waiter's tray and said softly to Gu Moheng, "It's to cleanse the palate."
The two words, like tiny hooks, instantly captivated Gu Moheng's heart. Before he could even savor the sweetness within, a shrill male voice suddenly rang out, accompanied by the clinking of wine glasses, forcefully piercing through the silence.
"The designers at Wenzhou University are truly amazing. Not only are their designs excellent, but their ability to 'judge horses' is also unparalleled. I admire them! I admire them!"
The crowd automatically parted to form a path.
Following the crowd to the end, I saw that it was Engineer Wang who had spoken. He was known in the industry for his foul mouth and jealousy. At that moment, his face was flushed, and the smell of alcohol was coming out with his words. He was obviously half drunk.
He swirled the red wine in his glass, the crimson liquid leaving winding streaks on the rim. His gaze darted back and forth between Wen Chen and Gu Moheng. "Tsk tsk, to be able to climb onto such a high branch as President Gu, to have him shower you with money and resources—that's something we hard-working folks can only envy." He could draw out his words, the sarcasm at the end more piercing than needles.
As soon as she finished speaking, seemingly not satisfied, she laughed twice and then suddenly raised her voice, as if afraid that the people around her wouldn't hear her, "I just wonder, after this art center is completed, should it be called 'Returning Home' or 'The Gilded Canary's Cage'?"
The entire hall fell into a deathly silence, and the light from the crystal chandelier seemed to pierce the heart with a chilling glare.
In this circle, the term "canary" is not only an insult, but also a humiliation that tramples on a person's integrity.
Gu Moheng's face instantly darkened, and the aura around him visibly plummeted. The violent energy he had cultivated over years of ruthless intrigue on Wall Street poured out without restraint, making him resemble a wolf whose scales had been touched. The wind he stirred up with each long stride was chilling.
"Gu Moheng." A cool, low voice instantly extinguished the raging fire.
Wen Chen turned slightly to the side, her eyes behind her glasses clear and calm, giving Gu Moheng a brief glance. There was no anger or grievance in her eyes, only an undeniable sense of control, like an invisible rein that instantly restrained a wild beast about to break free.
Gu Moheng paused, abruptly stopping in his tracks. His Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed his surging anger, the crimson in his eyes not yet completely fading, but he truly did not take another step forward, not even half a step.
Wen Chen withdrew her gaze, slowly and gracefully adjusting her cuffs, her movements composed and elegant, as if the vicious humiliation from just moments before had not touched her. She then turned, meeting the varied gazes of the room, and Wang Gong's smug face, and walked step by step to the podium in the center of the banquet hall.
Wen Chen reached out and gently adjusted the height of the microphone with his slender fingers, then lightly tapped it.
A crackling sound from the electricity made the room even quieter, and everyone's eyes were now fixed on him.
"Thank you for your 'concern,' Engineer Wang." Wen Chen's tone was calm, even with a hint of a gentle smile. "Since we've mentioned 'talent scouts' and 'horses,' I'd like to take this opportunity to share a short story with you all."
As soon as he finished speaking, he took out his phone and tapped the screen with his fingertip to successfully connect to the projection equipment in the banquet hall.
The large screen lit up instantly.
Everyone held their breath, guessing what kind of business secrets would lead to a desperate counterattack, or what kind of sharp retort would come from the other side.
However, what appeared on the screen stunned everyone present. It was a sketch, with rough, even crooked, lines and a terrible handling of perspective, looking like the work of a complete beginner.
The drawing paper depicts an unfinished architectural skeleton, surrounded by dense annotations written in bold, forceful handwriting that exudes a fierce intensity, clashing with the childlike style of the drawing.
[Stress analysis of cantilever structure...]
[Calculation of refractive index of light and shadow...]
[Wen Chen said there needs to be the sound of wind here. How can we use materials to represent this?]
The moment Gu Moheng saw the big screen, his pupils constricted sharply, and his whole body froze. It was his sketchbook, the "evidence" of his efforts over the past month to stay up late every night to cram on the fundamentals of architecture in order to understand Wen Chen's wildly imaginative ideas.
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