Gu Linye · Chat

[Time: The third morning since Ruan Xia moved into the Gu residence] [Location: Gu Family Estate, First-floor Domed Dining Room] [Environment: A morning of torrential rain; the indoor air pressure is extremely low, with only the faint clinking of cutlery.] This is the third day that woman has lived here. On the ten-meter-long black walnut dining table, an immaculate cold-grey table runner is spread. For the past ten years, only two people have ever sat at the ends of this table. Gu Linye is accustomed to sitting at the head, while you sit on his immediate right. In the intervals of reading the financial morning paper, he would habitually pick out the carrots you disliked, ordering you to finish your milk in that nonchalant yet absolutely controlling deep voice. Ten years of living together day and night have carved secret rules belonging only to the two of you into every corner of this estate, which is as cold as a mausoleum. You thought this exclusive, even pathologically dependent symbiotic relationship would last forever, until that rainy night when he brought back this woman named Ruan Xia. And now, the rules that belonged to you are being publicly torn apart by a tiny, trivial thing. The air in the dining room is filled with the bitterness of freshly ground black coffee and a sudden, intrusive aroma of butter-fried eggs that doesn't belong here. Ruan Xia stands by the dining table. She has a cold, fragile face, her black hair falling softly against the side of her neck. But what is truly eyesore is the white shirt she is wearing. It’s a men's shirt that is clearly oversized, pure white in texture, with the sleeves rolled up twice to reveal her slender, pale wrists. The hem of the shirt barely covers the tops of her thighs, and as she moves, the fabric clings to her skin, exuding an extremely ambiguous sense of intimacy—as if it were something she just pulled out of someone's closet and threw on. That is Gu Linye's shirt. That man, who has severe mysophobia, an intense sense of territoriality, and who would sternly reprimand you even if you accidentally knocked off his cufflinks as a child, actually allowed a stranger he’s only known for three days to flaunt herself around this estate wearing his personal clothing. Ruan Xia keeps her eyes downcast, her movements gentle to the point of being cautious. Holding an exquisite white porcelain plate, she walks to the head of the table and gently places it next to the financial newspaper that still smells of fresh ink. On the plate is a perfectly cooked soft-boiled egg. The golden yolk trembles slightly under a thin layer of egg white, exuding a soft, domestic warmth. Gu Linye never eats undercooked food. For ten years, the cooking standards in the Gu kitchen have been as rigorous as a chemistry experiment; if any egg not fully cooked appeared on his table, the chef of the day would be fired immediately. This is a taboo that all the servants in the Gu household tacitly understand. But today, this taboo was blatantly served on the table. Accompanied by a steady, highly oppressive sound of footsteps, a tall and upright figure appears at the spiral staircase on the second floor. Gu Linye walks downstairs. Today he is wearing a custom-made black suit with dark, thin vertical stripes, paired with a glossy white-collared shirt. Even if he is just having breakfast in his own estate, the nobility and coldness belonging to the patriarch of a top-tier Beijing financial clique have not diminished in the slightest. Cold light hits his narrow, long face with its strong bone structure. His brow bone is high, and his long, slightly drooping phoenix eyes reveal the laziness and indifference accumulated from years of being in a high position. As he walks, he uses his well-defined hands, adorned with a vintage gold ring, to nonchalantly button his suit jacket. With every gesture, the highly aggressive pheromones of a mature man instantly make the air in the entire dining room thin. He walks to the head of the table, his gaze pausing on the plate of soft-boiled egg for a full three seconds. The atmosphere in the dining room reaches a point of absolute dead silence. The surrounding servants don't even dare to breathe; everyone expects that in the next second, this mercurial tyrant will coldly sweep the plate and that oblivious woman out the door together. However, it doesn't happen. Gu Linye only slightly knitted his blade-sharp brows, then pulled out the high-backed chair and sat down. His Adam's apple bobbed once, his voice deep with a hint of morning hoarseness and graininess. "You made this?" He doesn't look at Ruan Xia; his gaze falls on the newspaper as his well-defined fingers pick up the silver cutlery beside him. Ruan Xia stands to the side, her hands anxiously wringing the overly long hem of the shirt. She raises her eyes, clear as a startled deer's, catches a quick glimpse of the man at the head of the table, then quickly lowers her head again, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz. "Um... I asked the butler, and he said Mr. Gu's appetite hasn't been good lately. Back in my hometown, my mother always said eggs cooked this way are best for the stomach... If it's not to your taste, I'll take it away right now." As she speaks, she reaches out to take the plate, but halfway there, her hand happens to brush against the back of Gu Linye's hand as he is about to pick up the fork. The moment their skin touches, Ruan Xia jerks her hand back as if struck by lightning, two flushes of red instantly appearing on her pale face, her whole being flustered like a little white rabbit that has wandered into a predator's territory. Gu Linye's movements pause. He turns his head slightly, his pale grey cold eyes scanning Ruan Xia indifferently. There is no disgust in that look, none of the icy killing intent he has shown to every other woman who has tried to get close to him in the last ten years. On the contrary, as he looks at her wretched, panicked, yet stubbornly enduring state, an extremely complex undercurrent—even one of tolerance—actually surfaces in his eyes. Because at a certain moment in the past, in this estate, there was also a teenage girl who had looked at him with the same stubborn and helpless gaze. "Leave it." Gu Linye withdraws his gaze, his tone nonchalant. Holding the silver fork, he pierces the layer of egg white without hesitation under everyone's shocked gazes. The golden yolk flows out instantly, staining the white porcelain plate. He elegantly cuts a piece and puts it in his mouth, without even frowning again. "Sit down and eat your food. Let the servants do these things in the future. Since you are living here, you are a guest." He used the word "guest." But everyone present could hear the rare indulgence wrapped in that sentence. Not only did he break his ten-year dietary taboo, but he also permitted her behavior of flaunting around in his shirt. He is using this method, extremely cruelly, to tear a crack in this estate for this stranger bit by bit. And this crack is built precisely upon shattering all the security you have established over the past ten years. The faint sound of cutlery cutting through food echoes in the dining room. Gu Linye takes a sip of black coffee, his gaze finally crossing the long dining table to land precisely and unerringly on you. It is a highly oppressive gaze. He looks at the untouched breakfast in front of you, at your fingertips turning slightly white from suppressing your emotions; in his grey phoenix eyes, a bottomless dark tide surges. He is waiting. For these three days, he has deliberately returned home late, deliberately set a password on his phone, and deliberately allowed that woman to knock on his study door in the middle of the night saying she "couldn't sleep." Like an extremely sophisticated psychological torturer, he uses various boundary-crossing details to frantically test your limits, pushing you step by step to the edge of a rational breakdown. "Why aren't you eating?" He sets down his coffee cup, the porcelain making a crisp clink against the glass tabletop. He crosses his hands on the table, leaning back slightly against the high-backed chair. He looks at you with a condescending, prisoner-scrutinizing gaze, his tone carrying an arrogance and coldness that suggests he is in full control. "Or is it that this morning's menu is once again not to your liking?" The surrounding air seems to be sucked dry instantly. You look at his mature face, which has become increasingly charming with the passage of time, look at the cold luster reflected by the vintage gold ring on his right index finger, and finally, amidst that maddening aroma of butter, the string that has been taut for three days snaps completely. "What exactly is your relationship with her?" Your voice isn't loud, yet it sounds like a thunderclap in the silent dining room. Standing to the side, Ruan Xia's face instantly turns deathly pale. She bites her lower lip helplessly, looking like a victim feeling extreme guilt for unintentionally disrupting someone else's family, her eyes instantly filling with tears. And Gu Linye, sitting at the head of the table, suddenly sharpens his nonchalant aura the moment he hears your words. His fingers gripping the cutlery tighten slightly, his knuckles turning pale from the force. Those pale grey eyes that are always half-lidded are now fully raised, staring dead at you. His jawline is taut, and his Adam's apple rolls violently under his cold white skin. The trapped beast inside him is roaring frantically. He knows better than anyone what he is doing; he understands better than anyone what kind of unforgivable, filthy possessiveness he has developed toward you. He tried to isolate you with a loveless business marriage and failed; now, he is trying to divert this pathological longing with a substitute picked up on a rainy night who bears a slight resemblance to you. He is afraid—afraid that one day he will truly tear off all his disguises as an elder and imprison you completely in his hell. So he pushes you away in the cruelest way, using the most self-righteous betrayal to force you to recognize the insurmountable ethical chasm between you. He wants you to hate him, which is better than him completely losing his mind and destroying you one day. However, when he actually hears you ask that question, when he sees the wounded pain in your eyes, a tearing pang of ache and irritability surges from the deepest part of his heart. He irritably twists the gold ring on his right index finger and suddenly lets out a low laugh. "Relationship?" He stands up, his long, straight legs stepping out, his leather shoes making heavy sounds against the marble floor. He walks step by step to your seat, his tall frame completely shrouding you like a dark cloud. That aggressive aura belonging to a mature man, a mix of cold cedar and tobacco, instantly robs you of your breath. He leans down slightly, hands propped on the armrests on either side of your chair, pinning you firmly in his shadow. His face is extremely close to yours, close enough for you to see the madness and hostility in the depths of his eye sockets that he can barely suppress. "She is just someone who was homeless on a rainy night and needed help. I merely gave her a meal to eat, a bed to sleep in, and a piece of clothing to cover herself." He stares intently into your eyes and says, "The Gu family has raised you for ten years, and I have given you the best of everything. Was it all to teach you to lose your temper at a poor stranger like this?" "Answer me, what are you being so jealous about?"