Chapter 41 Gathering
The confrontation in the corridor of the villa late at night was eventually suppressed by Zhao Chen with an almost tough gentleness.
He didn't explain Gu Qianqian, didn't explain the Gu Group, and certainly didn't explain the mysterious phone call. He simply stared intently at Yu Ling's panicked and angry face with his amber eyes, deep enough to drown someone, and said in a low, tired voice, yet filled with undeniable power:
"Lingling, believe me. No matter who Gu Qianqian is, no matter what happened in the past, it has nothing to do with you, and it will never hurt you in the slightest. Give me some time, wait until we get back, wait for the right time, and I will tell you everything. But right now, here, you just need to know that I'm here."
His eyes were too complicated, with lingering hostility, heavy worry, and deep fatigue, but deep down, it was an almost fragile plea that made Yu Ling's heart tighten.
The night wind in the mountains made Yu Ling feel cold all over. Under Zhao Chen's gaze, her fear and anger were like punctured balloons, deflated, leaving only the coldness of helplessness and a deep sense of powerlessness.
Questioning? Pushing back? On such a night, isolated in the mountains, facing a man who clearly carried a huge secret and seemed incredibly vulnerable, she found herself without the strength to continue tearing.
Finally, Zhao Chen half-carried her back to the room. Su Qing was sound asleep, oblivious to the night's storm. Yu Ling curled up on the tatami, her back to Zhao Chen, and spent the night sleepless.
The phone still stubbornly displayed "No Service," like a cold mockery. Zhao Chen was sleeping not far behind her, breathing steadily, but he no longer tried to get closer as usual.
The bus on the way back was unusually silent. Yu Ling leaned against the window, watching the scenery pass by, her heart filled with desolation.
The name "Gu Qianqian," the identity of the daughter of the Gu Group, and Zhao Chen's cold verdict on the phone weighed on her like heavy rocks, suffocating her. Zhao Chen's promise—"I'll tell you when I get back"—was like a straw hanging over her head, offering a glimmer of hope but also plunging her into deeper anxiety: What kind of turbulent truth would it reveal?
Back to the familiar city, back to the apartment in 1601, the frozen silence did not dissipate, but instead was like a layer of invisible ice, separating the two of them.
Zhao Chen was still considerate—preparing hot meals, setting the bath water, even quietly offering her a cup of warm milk while she read. But his eyes were more cautious, tentative, and unconcealedly tired, and his movements were deliberately distant, no longer the pervasive "clinginess" of before. He was giving her space, but also escaping.
Yu Ling's heart felt like it was soaked in ice water. She enjoyed the continued care, but she couldn't ignore the huge void and biting coldness in her heart.
She wanted to ask, words on the tip of her tongue countless times, but seeing the deep shadow in Zhao Chen's eyes and the deliberately maintained calmness, she swallowed them back. When exactly would that "right time" be? She didn't know. She only knew that her husband, with his little whale-shaped apron and his gentle, harmless smile, seemed to be becoming increasingly unfamiliar and distant before her eyes.
Just after this suffocating stalemate lasted for a few days, one Friday evening, when Zhao Chen was preparing dinner in the kitchen, his cell phone rang.
It wasn't that international number. It was a local, unfamiliar number.
Zhao Chen wiped his hands, picked up the phone, glanced at it, frowned slightly, and then picked up the phone. His voice returned to his usual calm and gentle tone:
"Hello? ... Um, it's me... tonight? ... Lingling is at home... isn't that inconvenient?"
As he spoke, he subconsciously glanced at Yu Ling, who was sitting on the sofa in the living room. Yu Ling was holding a book, but she couldn't read a single word, her ears keenly listening to his conversation.
There seemed to be a few more words on the other end of the phone. Zhao Chen was silent for a few seconds, a helpless smile on his face, and a somewhat compromising tone: "...Okay. But don't make it too noisy. Lingling likes it quiet... Okay, got it. See you later."
He hung up the phone, casually placed it on the countertop, and continued chopping vegetables. But Yu Ling could sense that he seemed a little absent-minded.
"There's a party with some friends tonight," Zhao Chen said casually, his back to her, while chopping green broccoli. His voice was deliberately relaxed. "They're all old friends. It's been a while since we've gotten together. They insisted I go, and I couldn't turn them down."
He paused, slowing down his chopping, as if making some kind of decision. Then he turned around and looked at Yu Ling, his eyes filled with tentativeness and a hint of barely perceptible expectation. "Lingling... do you... want to come with me? Just to relax?"
Yu Ling's heart skipped a beat.
Friends? Party?
This was the first time he'd offered to bring her into his social circle! Those "old friends"? Could they be people who knew "Gu Qianqian," the "Gu family," or his true identity?
A surge of curiosity and an urge to peek into his secret world instantly overwhelmed her deepest doubts and anxieties. She almost immediately put down her book, sat up straight, and looked at Zhao Chen, her eyes filled with an eagerness and inquiry she wasn't even aware of. "...Okay. I'll go."
Zhao Chen looked at the light that suddenly lit up in her eyes, and was slightly stunned for a moment. Then, a sincere smile of relief curved his lips. "Okay. Then... shall we go after dinner?"
The car left the bustling city and turned onto a quiet road shaded by dense sycamore trees. The dim streetlights cast swaying shadows on the smooth pavement. At the end of the road, a heavy, quaint black wrought iron gate, exuding understated luxury, slowly slid open.
As the car drove through the gate, the view suddenly opened up. There were no dazzling neon signs, no clamorous noise. Instead, what came into view was a vast, meticulously tended lawn, its outlines visible even in the night, and a patchwork of landscaped gardens.
In the distance, a building, a blend of modern simplicity and classical charm, stood quietly in the night. Its glass curtain wall reflected the warm light from the interior and the shimmering waters of the pool, like a pearl on a tranquil lake. Only on a discreet piece of black marble at the entrance were two cursive English letters—"VM"—outlined in fine golden lines.
Valhalla Manor? Yu Ling muttered to herself, startled by the silent aura of dominance behind the name.
The car, guided by a waiter in a neat uniform and white gloves, stopped at the entrance of the building. Immediately, a waiter stepped forward and respectfully opened the car door.
"Mr. Zhao..." The waiter paused abruptly the moment he caught Zhao Chen's gaze. His face quickly changed into an impeccable, respectful smile for the distinguished guest. "Sir, Madam, good evening. Please follow me."
Yu Ling took Zhao Chen's arm and got out of the car. Their feet were paved with soft, natural stone, and the air was filled with the faint fragrance of plants and the refreshing aroma of high-end aromatherapy.
There is no magnificent lobby at the entrance, only a simple porch with huge abstract art paintings on both sides. The lighting is designed just right, creating a low-key and stylish atmosphere.
The waiter led them through a quiet corridor with thick carpet and dark wood panels on both sides. Occasionally, there were closed, heavy wooden doors on both sides of the corridor. There was no sign on the door, which made it look mysterious and private.
Pushing open a double-leaf dark wooden door carved with intricate vine patterns at the end of the corridor, an extremely spacious and well-designed private hall appears before your eyes.
The hall has a very high ceiling, and outside the huge curved floor-to-ceiling windows is a carefully designed courtyard waterscape, and the sound of gurgling water can be faintly heard.
The interior lighting is soft and warm in color. A huge leather sofa group casually and comfortably surrounds the central fireplace (although it is not lit). The floor is covered with thick, handmade wool carpets that make no sound when stepped on.
On one side is a wall-long wine cabinet, filled with a dazzling array of bottles, which reflect an alluring luster under the light. On the other side is a small bar where a professional bartender is serving several guests.
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