Gu Lingxu · Chat

【New Year's Eve】 New Year's Eve in the Gu family has always been lively. The crystal chandelier illuminated the banquet hall as bright as day. A dark red velvet tablecloth was draped over the long table, the silver utensils gleaming with a cold, polished luster under the lights. The dishes on the bone china plates were as exquisite as works of art. Outside the French windows, heavy snow was falling, while the heating inside was turned up high. Waiters bustled about, and the crisp sound of clinking glasses mingled with laughter and chatter. Everything looked exactly like a holiday in high society should. Gu Lingxu sat at the very end of the long table. This position was far from the head of the table, so far that he couldn't even see the expression on Gu Mingyuan's face clearly. But there was no need to see it clearly; he never looked at that face—a face that shared a thirty percent resemblance to his own, yet was as cold as iron. The table was laden with delicacies from the land and sea, but the small plate in front of him was barely touched. His chopsticks rested on the edge of the bowl, his fingertips slightly white. "Why isn't Second Brother eating? Are the dishes at home not to your taste?" Gu Jingyao's voice drifted from the other end of the long table, carrying a blatant, undisguised smirk. He held a red wine glass, leaning back against the chair in a lazy, smug posture. "Then again, after all, you used to follow—" He paused, deliberately dragging out the end of his sentence, his gaze sweeping over the others at the table, as if waiting for someone to play along. Gu Zhiyao chimed in quickly. "Brother, don't say that, he's feeling sad inside." She rested her chin on her hand, her rounded fingernails tapping gently on the table, her voice sickeningly sweet. "It's the New Year, so he must be missing his mother, right?" The entire table fell silent for a moment. Some lowered their heads to pick up food, some turned to whisper to their neighbors, and others raised their wine glasses to hide the slight smirk at the corners of their mouths. Su Manyun took a slow sip from her teacup without even raising her eyelids. Gu Mingyuan was talking to a company director next to him, seemingly not hearing the conversation at all—or perhaps he did hear it, but simply didn't care to intervene. Gu Lingxu's grip on the chopsticks tightened, his knuckles turning white and protruding slightly, as if about to break through the thin layer of skin. But he did not look up. "Jingyao, eat your food properly," Su Manyun finally spoke, her tone flat and devoid of emotion, as if saying something trivial. She didn't even look toward the end of the table, merely setting her teacup back down. The porcelain clinked softly against the mahogany. "It's the New Year. Why bring up such things?" The words sounded like she was defusing the situation, but Gu Lingxu understood—this "rescue" was only because she found Gu Jingyao's antics too obvious and disruptive to the atmosphere. Su Manyun would never truly speak up for him. She was only maintaining the decency expected of the matriarch. As for whether he felt wronged or embarrassed, it was never within her scope of concern. Gu Jingyao as expected toned it down a bit, let out a sneer, and turned to clink glasses with Jiang Chi next to him. The two of them whispered something and laughed again. Gu Zhiyao also pursed her lips, using the serving chopsticks to place food on Su Manyun's plate, obediently changing the subject. Meanwhile, Gu Lingxu sat there, the bowl of soup in front of him having gone completely cold. He stared down at the layer of oil floating in the bowl for a moment, suddenly feeling a tight lump in his throat, making it impossible to swallow anything. The snow outside grew heavier, falling like goose feathers, slapping against the glass of the French windows, only to be quickly melted by the indoor heat into winding streaks of water, looking like someone crying. He put down his chopsticks. The sound was very quiet, so quiet that almost no one heard it. He stood up, his chair making no sound on the carpet, and bowed slightly toward the head of the table. "I'm feeling a bit unwell, I'll go back and rest first." No one responded. Gu Jingyao was playing drinking games with Jiang Chi, Gu Zhiyao was showing Su Manyun something on her phone, and Gu Mingyuan sat with his back to him, chatting with someone about some business matter. Of all the people at the long table, not a single one turned to look at him. It was as if the words he said upon standing up had been swallowed by the air, or as if he had never been sitting there at all. He paused for two seconds, then turned and walked toward the hall doors, his pace neither fast nor slow, his back held very straight, like a taut string. The waiter pulled open the heavy doors for him, and a blast of cold wind rushed in instantly, carrying the scent of snow and making his eyes sting. He stepped over the threshold, and the warm light, laughter, clinking glasses, and heating behind him were all shut away in another world by that door. The moment the door closed, he heard another burst of laughter erupt from inside, over some other amusing matter. It had nothing to do with him anymore. The heavy snow fell overwhelmingly. He hadn't brought an umbrella, nor was he wearing the thicker down coat that the servants had taken away. Only when he walked out did he realize he had left in too much of a hurry, grabbing only a thin woolen overcoat. But he didn't turn back. The heavy gates of the Gu residence closed behind him, the sound of the iron latch locking echoing with stark clarity in the snowy night. He walked along the driveway. The streetlights illuminated the falling snow like crushed gold, or like ashes, falling flake by flake onto his light silver-gray hair, shoulders, and eyelashes. Warm yellow light spilled from the houses on both sides of the road, and he could faintly hear the sounds of televisions, laughter, and the dull thuds of fireworks exploding inside. Every sound felt real and lively, but they belonged to others. He walked for a long time, long enough for his toes to go numb with cold, long enough for his fingers curled inside his sleeves to lose the ability to straighten, and long enough for the woolen coat to be soaked through with melted snow, weighing heavily on his shoulders. He had no destination; he just kept walking along the road, walking until the Gu family's villa area gradually faded into the distance, until the streetlights grew sparse, until the surroundings became so quiet that only the sound of falling snow and his own breathing remained. Then he stopped, leaning against a wall, and brought his frozen fingers to his mouth to blow a breath of warm air. The white mist dispersed and condensed again, changing nothing. Just then, footsteps approached from behind—heavy, smelling of alcohol, and malicious. He turned around. Three men wrapped in thick cotton coats stood a few paces away, sizing up the woolen overcoat he wore, which, though worn, clearly looked expensive. "Hey, little young master, out all alone on New Year's Eve? How about lending some money for us brothers to spend?" Gu Lingxu didn't move. He lowered his eyes, his voice very quiet. "I don't have any money on me." The other man cursed, stepping forward to grab at his pockets. He was pushed back a step, his back slamming hard against the freezing brick wall. A chill instantly shot up his spine, freezing him so much he could barely breathe. He was shoved and tugged, the sound of tearing fabric exceptionally sharp in the snowy night. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, letting them rummage through his pockets like a soulless puppet. Snowflakes fell on his closed eyelids, cool at first, then quickly melted by his body heat. He didn't resist. He was used to not resisting. He only wondered if he would freeze to death in this nameless alleyway on a night as cold as this. When he was found tomorrow, covered in snow, he would look like an unclaimed tombstone. Then, headlights shone. A bright, blinding white light swept over from the end of the street, stretching the shadows of the three men long and crooked. The low rumble of an engine approached from afar, distinct in the quiet snowy night. A black sedan slowly pulled over a few paces away. The car door opened, and someone got out, warning them to get lost. The three thugs cursed and let go, stepping back a few paces. Leaning against the wall, Gu Lingxu slowly opened his eyes. The blinding headlights made him squint instinctively, his vision a blur of white, with only the silhouette of the car standing out clearly in the darkness. Then, the rear window rolled down. A sliver of warm yellow light spilled from inside the car, falling on his pale, frozen face. He saw a figure sitting behind the window. He couldn't see the face clearly, only catching a glimpse of a profile and a cuff resting on the window sill. The figure's voice drifted out. Across the wind and snow, across a few paces of road, it was incredibly clear when it reached his ears, like a pebble dropped into stagnant water. "Are you the one from the Gu family?" He froze, his fingers curling inside his sleeves, gently clutching the fabric that had been pulled loose. After a few moments of silence, he lowered his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. He nodded. "Why are you out here alone? Get in the car." The snow was still falling in large flakes, covering his hair and shoulders, landing on the snow-covered ground illuminated by the streetlamp in front of him. He stood there, as fragile as a handful of ashes that could be scattered by the wind at any moment, yet he still stubbornly stood up straight. He didn't know who was in the car, but he remembered that voice. And he remembered this New Year's Eve.