Chapter 1 Reunion (1) Today's Headline: Gu Moheng is back in China...
"Check the final rendering data one more time."
Wen Chen's voice was clear and gentle, like a stream melting snow in early spring, quietly flowing through the tense air in the studio. His slender fingertips traced the huge architectural model in front of him—his work of eight years, "Returning Home".
Assistant Xiao Li nodded solemnly, his face filled with admiration and nervousness: "Don't worry, Teacher Wen, I've checked all the details three times."
"Hmm." Wen Chen's gaze shifted from the model to the rows of skyscrapers outside the window.
The glass curtain wall reflected the intense afternoon sunlight, dazzling the eyes. The giant screen directly opposite displayed no celebrity advertisements, only a single line of text scrolling across the screen.
The capital behind these words is far more eye-catching than any endorsement—
[Today's Headline: Gu Moheng has returned to China]
Today, Wen Chen wore a high-quality beige linen shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing a slender yet strong wrist. From a distance, he resembled a clean-lined ink painting. Only those who knew him well knew what an indomitable spirit lay hidden beneath that gentle exterior.
Holding a stack of documents, Xiao Li followed his gaze, hesitated for a moment, and then couldn't help but speak, her tone filled with barely suppressed excitement and gossip: "Teacher Wen, I just heard that Mr. Gu from Mosheng Capital will also be attending in person this time."
"Mosheng Capital." These four characters are like a pebble thrown into a still lake.
Wen Chen's fingertips, which were arranging the drawings, paused almost imperceptibly for a moment, too brief to even register a heartbeat. He then raised his hand to push up his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze returning to every detail of the drawings.
Xiao Li was completely unaware of this, and exclaimed to himself, "That's Gu Moheng! I never expected him to be interested in domestic projects."
Wen Chen lowered her eyes and remained silent, neatly rolling up the neatly arranged drawings and putting them into a tube. With a soft "click," she sealed away some surging emotions.
-
The scene of the bidding conference.
Wen Chen sat upright in the first row of the candidate area, his back ramrod straight. He quietly watched the projection on the stage, mentally reviewing his proposal for the last time, completely shutting out the surrounding noise.
He is number three and still needs to wait for two more teams.
As the clock hands slowly climbed past the designated mark, the host finally announced the name "Dream Building Studio." Wen Chen calmly walked onto the stage, the spotlight shining on him, making his beige linen shirt appear even softer, creating a subtle contrast with the cold, hard charts behind him.
He nodded slightly, and his clear, pleasant voice carried throughout the venue through the microphone: "Good afternoon, everyone, I am Wen Chen."
This was his first time personally attending a project bidding site. Without any pleasantries, he went straight to the point. Behind him, two powerful calligraphy characters lit up the large screen—"Returning Home." This was the core concept he had defined for this new landmark commercial complex.
“The essence of architecture is a container.” His voice came through the microphone calmly. Unlike the other bidders, Wen Chen’s tone was not like that of someone bidding for an investment of hundreds of millions of dollars, but rather like that of someone telling a long story. “It carries not only time and memories, but also… the image of ‘home’.”
Such an introduction was rarely heard on the judging panel, and many people quietly adjusted their posture, their eyes firmly drawn to this renowned top domestic architect.
His proposal is bold yet full of human warmth, suggesting that in the heart of the CBD where land is extremely valuable, we should not just build cold steel forests, but implant a core that allows people to "spiritually return home".
"Therefore, my philosophy is: there can be no construction without destruction."
Wen Chen lightly pressed the laser pointer with his fingertip, and a red line precisely swept across the screen, clearly dividing the two core areas of the building.
“We will break away from the closed structure of traditional commercial complexes and introduce open-air blocks and sky courtyards. In the heart of the most bustling city, we will create a place where people can stop and catch their breath…” His statement was fluent and confident, every detail having been repeatedly considered and calculated. At this moment, he was a king born for architecture, the most dazzling light in his field.
However, just as he was talking about the most crucial structural node of "destruction" and "construction".
With a creak, two heavy oak doors at the back of the hall were pushed open from the outside. Everyone's gaze, including that of the judges, was involuntarily drawn to them.
Wen Chen's speech froze for a fraction of a second.
Light streamed in through the crack in the opened door, outlining a tall, imposing figure. The person stood against the light, their face blurred and indistinct by the soft glow, yet they exuded an oppressive aura that seemed to solidify the air, instantly engulfing the entire venue.
The venue was dimly lit, with all the light focused on the stage. The man stood at the boundary between light and shadow, his impeccably tailored dark gray suit accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, making him appear even more imposing. The expensive fabric exuded a sense of pent-up power; simply by standing still, he became the undisputed center of the entire space. The well-dressed elites around him paled in comparison to his aura, becoming a blurred background.
The man strode in, followed by his team, who held their breath in anticipation. His leather shoes clicked crisply on the marble floor, each step precisely matching the heartbeat of everyone present. A subtle commotion arose within the room.
As he approached, the face etched deep in Wen Chen's memory finally came into clear view under the light, even more profound and sharp than she remembered. High brow bones, a prominent nose, and a taut, hard jawline. Time had stripped away the last trace of his youthful innocence, leaving only the authority and aloofness of someone in a position of power.
Wen Chen felt his heart suddenly stop beating, his blood rush back to his head, and his limbs turn ice cold. The knuckles of his fingers gripping the laser pointer turned white from excessive force, and a barely perceptible tremor spread from his fingertips, making it almost impossible for him to hold the small page turner.
Eight years.
He thought he had long ago buried this person, along with that heart-wrenching past, completely, and even erected a monument to prove it.
But the moment Gu Moheng truly appeared, that tomb collapsed completely. All the sealed love, hate, resentment, and pain transformed into hideous demons, ready to tear him to shreds. His throat was dry and sore, the prepared words stuck on his lips, unable to utter a single syllable.
A mere half-minute of silence.
The moment Gu Moheng sat down in the center of the first row, his unfathomable eyes locking onto Wen Chen, Wen Chen gasped for breath. That breath was sharp as shards of glass, cutting into his very being, causing him excruciating pain. He struggled to suppress the urge to think about that night eight years ago.
Their gazes clashed violently in the air, dozens of meters apart. No sparks flew, only a desolate, icy plain remained.
Gu Moheng's unfathomable black eyes churned with a dark vortex, making no attempt to conceal his desire to devour Wen Chen entirely.
Wen Chen stared at that face and could hardly control her expression. The gentle smile that was usually on her face shattered and vanished completely at that moment.
Xiao Li's words from yesterday suddenly echoed in his ears, gradually becoming real.
So, he really did come back.
Forcing himself to look away, Wen Chen refocused his attention on the PPT behind him, the pen on his fingers almost shattering in his palm.
When he spoke again, his voice was several times calmer and colder than before, like a piece of cold iron that had been tempered and forged: "...This 'establishment' is about rebuilding the connection between people and space, and between people themselves, on the broken ruins."
The speech continued, its logic rigorous, its data precise, and it was flawless.
However, he could no longer recapture the gentle and composed demeanor he had at the beginning. At this moment, he was like a shell controlled by a precise program, flawlessly completing all the predetermined procedures.
That concludes my presentation. Thank you all.
Wen Chen put down the pen, bowed slightly, and polite and enthusiastic applause rang out from the audience.
He did not return to his seat, but went straight to the side door of the venue, not wanting to stay for even a second longer.
The gaze from behind followed him relentlessly, like a leech clinging to his spine, burning his skin with pain.
"Next is the Q&A session," the host's voice came from behind.
Wen Chen took a step forward but then paused, realizing he had forgotten about this part.
She could only take a deep breath, slowly turn around and walk back to the front of the stage, a gentle and slightly apologetic smile returning to her face. After standing still, her gaze calmly swept across the audience, deliberately avoiding the center position.
Several judges raised professional questions about structural load-bearing capacity and fire safety, which Wen Chen answered fluently.
Just when he thought this ordeal was about to end, a hand was raised. It was Director Fu of Hongyuan Design, sitting in the second row. This bloated middle-aged man had a malicious smile on his face.
"Designer Wen, I've long admired your name. Your 'returning home' concept is very sentimental and sounds beautiful." He then changed the subject, his tone laced with undisguised sarcasm, "But we in the business world need to consider space efficiency and return on investment. Your open-air street and rooftop garden occupy a large amount of prime space. I ask you, which angel investor will foot the bill for your 'sentiment'? Isn't this just too flashy and impractical?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd began to whisper among themselves.
This is the most common and vicious attack: using commercial realities to stifle design ideals.
Wen Chen's fingers, gripping the microphone, turned white. He was about to use the data model he had prepared for countless days and nights to retaliate when a voice spoke faster than him, instantly drowning out the noise of the entire room.
"Director Fu's understanding of space efficiency seems to be stuck ten years in the past."
The speaker leaned back comfortably in his chair, his long, slender fingers unconsciously stroking the project proposal. He didn't even glance at the questioner, continuing calmly, "The core competitiveness of modern commercial complexes has long since shifted from simple retail to experiential consumption and social attributes."
"The open space in Wen's design is precisely the key to attracting foot traffic, extending customer dwell time, and thus enhancing overall commercial value."
His tone was as if he were stating a truth.
"This is called 'retreating to advance'."
Finally, he slowly lifted his eyelids, and for the first time, his icy eyes looked directly at Director Fu: "Mosheng's investment model shows that the return on investment for this type of design is at least 12 percent higher than that of traditional shopping malls. Director Fu, perhaps your data needs to be updated."
The entire room fell into a deathly silence. Director Fu of Hongyuan Design moved his lips a few times, but ultimately slunk back down under that overwhelming aura.
Wen Chen stood on the stage, but felt no sense of ease whatsoever.
Just then, Gu Moheng slightly turned his head, and his unfathomable eyes finally pierced through the distance of dozens of meters and precisely locked onto him.
"Designer Wen's philosophy is very interesting, 'No destruction, no construction'..."
He paused deliberately, and the air seemed to freeze for half a second.
"...I hope your work can truly stand up to scrutiny."
Gu Moheng's ambiguous words caused Wen Chen's back to straighten abruptly, followed by a near-perfect smile spreading across his face. Exquisite, aloof, like a mannequin in a shop window, flawless yet utterly devoid of warmth. Holding the microphone, he nodded slightly to the man in the audience: "Thank you for your guidance, Mr. Gu. We will prove ourselves with our abilities." With that, he gracefully turned away, no longer glancing at Gu Moheng.
The applause and discussions in the hall turned into blurred background noise, infinitely distant.
The whole world consisted only of his straight spine and the gaze behind him that seemed to pierce through him.
The corridor was deserted, and cold white light poured down from the ceiling, illuminating the marble floor until it shone brightly, creating a chilling atmosphere devoid of any human presence.
Wen Chen leaned against the cold wall, like a puppet whose strength had been suddenly drained.
Inside the venue.
The judges had left, and the bidders gathered in twos and threes, some talking and laughing loudly, others exchanging business cards in hushed tones.
No one dared to disturb the man in the center of the first row.
Gu Moheng remained seated, leaning back slightly, sinking into the expensive leather chair.
He remained motionless, like a lurking cheetah, his deep eyes following the figure in the beige shirt until he completely disappeared into the shadows of the side door. Wen Chen's back was tall and aloof, showing no trace of lingering affection, as if they were truly complete strangers.
Gu Moheng's thin lips pressed into a cold, hard line. His heart felt like it was being tightly gripped by an invisible hand, a dense, throbbing pain that made it hard for him to breathe.
Assistant Qin Shu stood respectfully to the side, observing his boss's less-than-pleasant expression, and softly reminded him, "President Gu, there's a video conference with Guangying Group in two hours..."
Gu Moheng did not respond.
Qin Shu dared not utter another sound and could only wait silently. He had followed Gu Moheng for five years, from Wall Street to the present, witnessing his manipulative skills at the negotiating table and his ruthless crushing of opponents. In his eyes, Gu Moheng was always a calm, rational, and powerful capitalist machine, almost devoid of emotion.
But just now.
The moment the designer named Wen Chen walked out of the venue, he clearly saw his boss's left hand, hanging by his side, slowly tighten. The veins on his wrist beneath the expensive watch were slightly bulging, and his knuckles were turning a frighteningly pale from excessive force.
Like a drowning person, desperately trying to grasp something, only to end up grasping nothing at all.
a long time.
"Postpone it," Gu Moheng finally said.
He slowly rose to his feet, his tall figure once again exuding a suffocating sense of oppression.
The gesture of adjusting the hem of his suit jacket restored his usual composure and elegance, but his overly handsome face was still pale.
"Send all his information from the past eight years to my email address, making sure not to miss any details."
After saying this, Gu Moheng strode towards the door where Wen Chen had left.
A note from the author:
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New story started! Thank you all for your support and companionship. This story doesn't have many drafts yet, so I'll be updating as I write. You can wait for it to accumulate some chapters first! [heart][heart]
Wen is the dominant one, Gu is the submissive one, don't ship them wrong! [roses][roses]
As usual, updates will follow the rankings. After VIP members join, updates will be six times a day. Thank you again for your support, my darlings! Mua~
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