Chapter 26 Fragments (2) He was taking a shower, so it wasn't convenient for him. ...
That night, Wen Chen slept very restlessly, as if he were adrift in a raging storm.
When I woke up, my head was throbbing.
A sharp ray of sunlight, filtering through the gap in the dark gray blackout curtain, cleaved straight down onto the cold, hard, high-grade gray marble floor like a blade—this wasn't the warm wood grain of his studio, but rather an expensive and aloof hue belonging to Gu Moheng's domain.
Wen Chen sat up somewhat dazedly, rubbing his throbbing temples, trying to banish the pair of black eyes filled with regret and obsession from his mind last night.
"Buzz—Buzz—"
The phone on the bedside table vibrated.
Wen Chen's heart skipped a beat. She picked up her phone, and the words "Mother" flashed rapidly on the screen along with a video call invitation.
His fingertips froze instantly. He took a deep breath, quickly threw off the covers and got out of bed, his eyes anxiously searching the background—he needed a white wall, or at least a corner where nothing could be seen.
However, before he could even stand up properly...
The doorknob clicked as it was pressed down from the outside.
Wen Chen's muscles tensed instantly, and he abruptly turned his head.
Gu Moheng pushed open the door and entered. He was wearing a dark gray loungewear set, and his hair fell smoothly over his forehead.
Their eyes met.
The air seemed to freeze.
Gu Moheng's gaze swept over Wen Chen's bare feet and his tightly gripped vibrating phone, his eyes filled with panic and wariness. The step he was about to take stopped abruptly at the threshold.
"What's wrong?"
Gu Moheng's voice was very soft, with a cautious huskiness, "Did I wake you up?"
Wen Chen didn't speak, but returned the gaze with a sharp, knife-like look. He quickly put his index finger to his lips, making a silent yet extremely intimidating "shut up" gesture.
Gu Moheng immediately pursed his lips obediently and stopped at the door. He was like a large dog that had been scolded by its owner and was carefully observing the other's emotions, not daring to cross the line, yet reluctant to leave...
Wen Chen strode to the window, pulled back the heavy curtains with a "whoosh," letting the blinding sunlight flood in. He adjusted his breathing and swiped his fingertips across the answer button.
"Mom." Her voice instantly switched to its usual gentle and peaceful tone, a smile playing on her lips.
On the screen, Wen's well-maintained face appeared, with the family's art studio in the background.
"Xiao Chen, why did it take you so long to answer the phone?"
Wen's mother scrutinized her son sharply through the screen.
"I just woke up and went to wash my face."
Wen Chen lied without changing his expression, "I didn't hear it."
Gu Moheng stood silently at the door, watching Wen Chen reveal that unguarded smile to the screen—a smile he had long since reserved for him. His heart felt as if it had been whipped mercilessly by a salt-soaked whip; the sharp pain was mixed with a deeper venom called "resentment."
"I saw the news, those media outlets are still harassing you?" Wen's mother asked worriedly. "Are you eating well? Are you sleeping well? Why do you look so pale, with dark circles under your eyes?"
Wen Chen subconsciously touched the side of her face. "It's nothing. I'm busy with work, and staying up late to draw is the norm."
"Don't lie to me." Wen's mother suddenly frowned, leaning forward as if she could see through the screen. "Xiao Chen, where are you? This doesn't look like a hotel."
Wen Chen's heart sank. In the backlight, the valuable, austere abstract painting on the wall betrayed him mercilessly.
"You're neither in the studio nor the apartment." No one knows a child better than their mother; Wen's mother's tone turned serious. "It seems... you're at someone's house."
Gu Moheng, standing at the door, held his breath. He looked at Wen Chen's taut back, a strong impulse surging in his chest—he wanted to go over, even if it was just as a "friend" appearing on the edge of the frame, to tell the elders that he would take good care of Wen Chen.
This is a golden opportunity.
"I……"
"Who was speaking just now?" Mother Wen's voice rang out again, with an unquestionable tone. "Xiao Chen, is there someone else in your room?"
Wen Chen's back stiffened instantly.
Gu Moheng felt as if an invisible hand was clenching his heart tightly, and bitter tears welled up in his eyes. Once upon a time, they were lovers who could bask in the sunlight and openly accept blessings. Now, he had become the "accident" that Wen Chen desperately wanted to cover up, a secret that needed to be hidden away.
His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, and finally, under Wen Chen's cold, warning gaze, he silently took half a step back, completely concealing his figure in the shadow cast by the door frame, leaving only a corner of gray fabric to prove his presence.
"No, Mom, you misheard." Wen Chen's voice regained its composure, even carrying a hint of deliberate ease. "It was TV. I was watching the morning news."
On the other end of the screen, Wen's mother narrowed her eyes suspiciously. As a renowned oil painter, her sensitivity to light and color far surpassed that of ordinary people.
"news?"
Wen's mother's gaze passed over Wen Chen's shoulder and landed on the cold black and white abstract painting on the background wall. "This style... if I remember correctly, it's by that German painter. The style is oppressive and cold."
Wen's mother paused, then her tone became sharp.
"How come I didn't know you had friends who would hang such a seven-figure original in their homes?"
Wen Chen glanced briefly at the painting on the background wall behind him, his heart skipped a beat, as if he had been caught red-handed doing something wrong as a child. He had forgotten that although Gu Moheng was filthy rich, his eye for art collection was shockingly sharp.
“At a… friend’s house.” Wen Chen forced a smile, her eyes darting around for a moment.
"Friends?" Mrs. Wen raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving. "Which friend? Do I know them? Male or female?"
"Mom, are you checking my household registration?" Wen Chen rubbed her temples in annoyance, trying to end the conversation. "A former college classmate. She just returned to the country, you don't recognize her."
"Just returned from abroad?" Wen's mother repeated thoughtfully, her gaze becoming even more inquisitive. "Since you're a classmate, why didn't you call out to say hello? I could thank them for taking care of you."
"He's taking a shower, it's inconvenient for him."
Wen Chen blurted it out, only realizing how ambiguous her words were after she finished speaking.
In the shadows outside the door, a dark, ambiguous light flashed in Gu Moheng's eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
Wen's mother remained silent for two seconds.
Those two seconds felt like an eternity to Wen Chen.
"Alright, stop making things up."
Wen's mother sighed, seemingly sensing her son's resistance, and stopped asking questions. "Since it's inconvenient, then come back tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Wen Chen was taken aback.
“Your dad hasn’t been feeling well lately, and he keeps talking about you.”
Wen's mother's voice softened, but it still carried an undeniable firmness, "It's perfect timing, come back for a meal tomorrow. Some things are hard to explain over a screen."
Hearing that his father was unwell, Wen Chen's heart clenched. The diagnosis report about Gu Moheng's father from last night resurfaced in his mind like a ghost. The panic of "wanting to care for one's parents but finding them gone" instantly shattered his mental defenses.
"good."
Wen Chen didn't refuse anymore, and her voice lowered, "I'll go back tomorrow morning."
"Remember to come early, I'll make you some soup."
The video call ended.
The screen went dark, revealing Wen Chen's pale and tired face. He held the phone up for a long time by the window until the sunlight stung his eyes, then slowly lowered it.
I heard very faint footsteps behind me.
Wen Chen did not turn around, nor did she immediately raise all her sharp thorns as usual.
The images in that folder last night—Gu Moheng, thin and gaunt, peeling an apple in the ICU—and the cautious, almost humble man behind him at this moment kept overlapping and merging in his mind.
Do you hate it?
Of course I hate it.
He hated his self-deception, his abrupt departure, and how he had kept him in the dark like a fool for eight long years. But when the hatred peeled away the hard shell of "betrayal" to reveal the bloody "bitterness" inside, what remained was more helplessness, confusion, and a tangled mess of emotions that were hard to explain.
He tossed his phone back onto the bed, watched it bounce once on the dark gray sheets, and then fell silent.
"Uncle... how are you feeling?" Gu Moheng's voice came from behind, tinged with caution and probing. He had met Wen Chen's parents a few times before, and mentioning them now was more like a subtle reminder of the faint connection that had once existed between them.
Wen Chen didn't turn around, but raised her hand to press her aching brow. "It's an old problem, high blood pressure."
Gu Moheng stood against the light, his deep features blurred in the shadows, yet this only increased his presence.
"Are you going back tomorrow morning?" Gu Moheng showed no intention of leaving.
Wen Chen paused for a moment as she opened the wardrobe.
"yes."
"When are you coming back?" Gu Moheng asked very quickly, almost losing his composure, revealing his anxiety.
Wen Chen took a shirt out of the closet, turned around, and looked at him with an almost amused expression. "Mr. Gu, I'm going home to visit my parents, not on a business trip."
He unfolded his shirt, and that aloofness that kept people at arm's length enveloped him once again. "Even if I'm on a business trip, there's no need for me to report my itinerary to you, is there?"
Gu Moheng's jawline tightened instantly. He knew, of course, that he wasn't qualified, but an uncontrollable sense of panic surged through his veins the moment he heard the word "go back." He couldn't let him go, not even temporarily.
"Tomorrow night?" Gu Moheng took a step closer, encroaching on Wen Chen's usual safe distance.
Wen Chen was getting a little annoyed by his inexplicable persistence.
"uncertain."
He unbuttoned his pajamas, revealing a large expanse of pale chest, his movements carrying an indifferent nonchalance, as if the person before him didn't exist. "Maybe one night, maybe two."
He tossed his pajamas onto the back of the chair, picked up a shirt and put it on, saying, "It depends on my dad's condition."
"no."
The two words came out stiffly, like two cold lumps of iron hitting the ground.
Wen Chen's fingers, which were buttoning his shirt, suddenly stopped. He looked up, his eyes filled with incredulous mockery.
"no?"
He looked at him as if he'd heard the funniest joke, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Gu Moheng, aren't you being a bit too nosy?"
Gu Moheng also realized his loss of composure. His Adam's apple bobbed violently, and a hint of panic flashed in his eyes, as if a crack had appeared in a dam that had been painstakingly built.
“I… I mean…” He took a deep breath, trying to regain the calm and meticulousness he had displayed at the negotiating table. His voice lowered, and his speech quickened, as if he were trying his best to convince the other party, and also to convince himself of the legitimacy of his reason.
“If you go back to your parents’ house, those relentless paparazzi will definitely follow you. Your uncle is in poor health and needs to rest; he can’t stand this kind of harassment.” He paused, his gaze fixed on Wen Chen’s eyes, a deep, unfathomable undercurrent of pleading surging within them.
His right hand, wrapped in thick gauze, hung at his side, trembling slightly uncontrollably, revealing his unease and vulnerability.
Wen Chen looked at the man before her. He stood at the pinnacle of power, yet now, because of his uncertain return date, he panicked like a child about to be abandoned by the whole world.
He lowered his eyes, his thick eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath them, and continued to silently button his shirt.
One, two.
Until the very top button was fastened, the collar tightly bound his long neck, bringing a subtle sense of suffocation that cleared his chaotic thoughts slightly.
"We'll see." He didn't give a definitive answer. But those three ambiguous words were nothing short of a slow, agonizing torture for Gu Moheng, who was already on edge.
"Wen Chen..."
Gu Moheng wanted to say something more.
Wen Chen was already dressed and her tone had returned to its usual coldness. "I'm going to wash up."
Gu Moheng stood frozen in place, watching Wen Chen brush past him expressionlessly. That familiar feeling of helplessness, of being unable to grasp anything, washed over him like icy seawater, almost suffocating him.
Just as Wen Chen's hand was about to touch the bathroom door handle.
"I send you."
Gu Moheng spoke from behind him, his voice hoarse, carrying the last vestige of desperate determination.
"I'll drive you home tomorrow morning."
This is a disguised compromise, and even more so, a humble struggle. He needs such a ritual, a self-deceiving bond to confirm that Wen Chen will "come back."
Wen Chen's hand, which was resting on the doorknob, paused almost imperceptibly for a moment.
He didn't turn around.
They did not refuse.
With a click, the bathroom door closed.
It blocked Gu Moheng's almost broken gaze.
Gu Moheng stood alone in the empty, cold room, staring at the tightly closed door. He could almost feel something of vital importance slipping out of his control, accelerating its descent into an abyss he couldn't foresee.
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