Deep in the Night - Chapter 5

DITN: Chapter 5

The twilight outside the window was dazzling, music drifted from afar, and the fountain sprayed crystal-like light over the lush green lawn. Fang Jin walked down the long, deserted corridor and stopped in front of the study door.

He raised his hand, but before he could touch the thick, dark brown rosewood panel, a familiar voice called out from inside, “Come in.”

Fang Jin stared at the warm grain of the wood for a moment before pushing the door open and entering.

Gu Mingzong leaned back in the genuine leather swivel chair behind the desk, his expensive suit jacket unbuttoned, and his long legs casually draped over the edge. He flipped a page in the gold-embossed, leather-bound poetry anthology in his hand and lazily recited, “An, passby—”

“CEO Gu,” Fang Jin said, lowering his head.

Gu Mingzong asked blandly, “What do you make of that line?”

The rosewood door closed behind him, and the faint voices in the distance vanished. The only sound in the study was the ticking of the grandfather clock, otherwise it was deathly quiet.

Fang Jin swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“I thought you preferred the line: ‘Hadasagiftd’.”

“To win hearts, one must rely on oneself, not gifts.” Gu Mingzong laughed, closed the book, and tossed it onto the desk. “Come here.”

Fang Jin approached the wide desk step by step, while Gu Mingzong leaned back in his swivel chair like a resting lion, scrutinizing him with a lazy yet piercing gaze. After a long pause, he said, “You’ve lost weight. How has Gu Yuan been treating you?”

“…The Eldest Master sets very high standards for his subordinates,” Fang Jin replied, each word carefully considered before speaking. “Perhaps because he demands so much of himself, he can’t help but be overly strict with others.”

Gu Mingzong seemed unconcerned. “That’s how it should be. But it’s true he lacks compassion.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

Gu Mingzong raised a hand to stop him, then opened a drawer and pulled out an exquisitely printed gift list, casually tossing it to him.

“It’s yours.”

Fang Jin had known this would happen.

Beside the antique grandfather clock stood a display cabinet, and on the wall hung an elaborately framed horizontal scroll bearing four characters in the Slim Gold Calligraphy style: “Political Harmony, People’s Peace.” Though the brush strokes showed a slight weakness due to age and waning strength, the characters still possessed the distinctive sharpness and elegance of the style.

Fang Jin still remembered the day he wrote this scroll. He had stood before a sheet of late Qing dynasty Chengxin Hall paper, wearing cotton white pajamas, brush in hand, completely focused. Gu Mingzong had stood beside him, watching with keen interest. The look in his eyes that day remained etched in Fang Jin’s memory.

It was the kind of gaze one might use to appreciate a flower, a painting, or simply a beautiful bird in a cage.

After writing the four characters, Gu Mingzong seemed quite satisfied and immediately put them away. When Fang Jin returned some time later, he discovered the calligraphy had already been framed and hung on the wall.

This was the type of calligraphy that might seem impressive at first glance to an amateur, but experts could easily see its flaws. However, with no signature or seal, most outsiders assumed Gu Mingzong had written it himself. The reactions were limited to praise like “CEO Gu is truly refined!” and “Beautiful calligraphy!” One contemporary calligraphy master even excitedly declared that these four characters surpassed most of his own works, and with another decade of study, they could rival the calligraphy of Emperor Huizong himself.

Fang Jin wanted to say, “Actually, I haven’t been writing much these past few years. Besides, if the Eldest Master sees the gift I left with you, it might arouse his suspicion.” But he swallowed these words and simply said, “Thank you. However, I came today to ask you a favor.”

Gu Mingzong gestured for him to continue.

Fang Jin pulled out his cardholder from his pocket, opened it, and withdrew the Citibank Black Card. He gently pushed it across the table toward Gu Mingzong with two fingers.

“I’d like you to take this back,” Fang Jin said, his voice steady, though he could feel his palms growing slightly clammy. “I’m now working for the Eldest Master’s company, and my monthly salary is enough to cover my living expenses. This supplementary card serves no purpose for me.”

Fang Jin’s voice remained calm, but he knew that if Gu Mingzong were to touch his hand now, he would immediately notice the moisture. Yet Gu Mingzong didn’t move a muscle, not even lifting his eyelids.

“Keep it,” he said.

Only then did Fang Jin breathe a sigh of relief, feeling as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his chest.

Gu Mingzong chuckled softly, shifting into a more comfortable position without elaborating further. “I knew Gu Yuan would bring you back. After all, he rejected nine out of ten people I previously transferred to subsidiary companies, leaving you as the sole survivor. Treating you well would be tantamount to showing weakness toward me. So? What are your thoughts now that you’re back?”

Fang Jin hesitated. “Just now… I saw Madam Chi outside.”

Gu Mingzong showed no surprise. “What did she say?”

“In front of Young Masters Gu Yuan and Gu Yang, she said nothing. Later, I ran into her alone in the banquet hall. She asked how I was recovering and who I was working for now.”

Gu Mingzong hummed in acknowledgment. “Did she mention her niece?”

“No—”

Fang Jin suddenly paused, recalling this man’s habitual modus operandi of achieving multiple objectives with a single move. An inconceivable thought surfaced in his mind: “Could you have done this deliberately…?”

Gu Mingzong lowered his legs to the floor, straightened his posture, and smiled. “Come here. Let me see if you’ve really lost weight.”

Fang Jin’s heart raced with uncertainty. After a moment, he slowly walked around the desk and stood before Gu Mingzong. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson. Fang Jin stood at an angle between the antique grandfather clock and the desk, his figure appearing remarkably slender. Upon closer inspection, one could see his fingertips trembling slightly.

Gu Mingzong gazed at him with a smile, as if waiting for something. After a prolonged stare, Fang Jin finally knelt beside the tall armchair, resting his hands on Gu Mingzong’s sturdy knees.

This posture exuded a docility tinged with an irresistible submission.

Gu Mingzong’s eyes, which had previously held a languid detachment born of having everything under control, now shifted slightly. He looked down at Fang Jin for a long moment before reaching out to caress that cool, smooth jawline.

“What did you just say I was doing deliberately?”

Fang Jin swallowed hard, his throat bobbing silently.

“I deliberately timed it so she’d see you with Gu Yuan. She’ll think, ‘Even Fang Jin and I are being sent to help him? This kid has really changed. We need to get our people close to him, fast.’ Then she’ll abandon the impossible goal of me and recommend her niece to Gu Yuan instead…”

Gu Mingzong seemed amused as he continued, “But Gu Yuan is naturally rebellious. He’ll flat-out refuse. Unlike Gu Yang, who is kind and can endure, Chi Wanru is relentless until she achieves her goal. Eventually, Gu Yuan will inevitably clash with her…”

His strong fingers traced down Fang Jin’s neck, caressing the distinct yet warm collarbone before slipping beneath his shirt, as if handling a delicate, precious, and fragile porcelain piece.

Fang Jin’s white shirt collar had already come undone at two buttons. He gasped for breath, barely suppressing the faint tremor in his voice:

“But why would you do this—”

“Because Gu Yang himself didn’t dare to confront his Eldest Brother,” Gu Mingzong said leisurely. “He’s too smooth, lacking in courage. After Gu Yuan caught him with the upper hand, he resorted to offering money and women as appeasement—a clumsy ploy that leaves me deeply dissatisfied. It’s like watching two children playing house in kindergarten.”

So, Gu Mingzong was aware of all the open conflicts and covert struggles between the Gu brothers recently!

A chill rose in Fang Jin’s heart, yet within his body, a certain nerve trembled and tightened under the increasingly bold caress, until even his breathing grew uneven.

“I’m telling you this so you can stay safe and mind your own business as an assistant. Do your job, get your pay, and avoid getting swept up in the storm.” Gu Mingzong leaned close to Fang Jin’s ear, his breath warm against the sensitive lobe. “See? There are benefits to watching from the sidelines.”

As he spoke the last words, his warm breath brushed against Fang Jin’s ear. Fang Jin suddenly gripped Gu Mingzong’s wrist, his fingers cold and clammy with sweat, trembling uncontrollably, the tips turning pale from the force of his grip.

Gu Mingzong tilted his head to look at Fang Jin, noticing the sweat-soaked hairline at his temples, his hair gleaming with a soft, oily blackness. His cheeks, however, were an innocent, water-washed pale, like a helpless little animal pinned beneath the executioner’s blade, with nowhere to run.

Fang Jin slowly turned his face to meet Gu Mingzong’s gaze. The pleading in his eyes seemed washed away by tears. After a long pause, he whispered, “I… I have to go back later…”

Gu Mingzong smiled, patted Fang Jin’s face, then straightened up to look down at him. “Take off your clothes yourself.”

A breeze swept through the dim shadows, brushing against his icy ears and sweat-drenched neck. It carried with it the faint echoes of countless mournful voices, sweeping past in a fleeting moment before vanishing into the damp corners of the building.

The young Fang Jin sat on the steps, tears streaming down his tender cheeks. Yet he didn’t dare cry out loud, forcing back his sobs until they turned into tiny hiccups.

“Who are you?”

Fang Jin looked up. At the foot of the steps, standing in the shadow, was a boy in a soccer jersey.

“… Who are you? Why are you crying?”

Fang Jin tried to speak, but his voice broke into sobs. He could only shake his head.

The boy stepped forward, his gaze level with Fang Jin’s. He looked to be only eleven or twelve, but he was taller and stockier than most boys his age. Having likely never seen someone so pale and tear-streaked before, he hesitated before cautiously poking Fang Jin’s cheek with a finger.

“Hey? What’s wrong with you?”

Fang Jin managed to choke out, “My… my parents… they… they’re dead…”

The boy fell silent for a moment. “My mom’s dead too,” he said.

He sat down next to Fang Jin and pulled out a neatly folded white handkerchief from his pocket. “Here, for you.”

Young Fang Jin took the handkerchief, sniffling and sobbing, and wiped his face, but the more he wiped, the more tears flowed, quickly soaking the entire handkerchief. The little boy watched, tongue-tied, then shook his head. “Girls are always crying. What are you doing here? Who let you in?”

“I’m not… I’m not a g-girl… They were going to s-sell me into this place…”

“Huh?” The little boy’s face contorted in exaggerated disbelief. “Since when did our family want to buy a girl?”

“I’m not a g-girl… waaah…”

The boy stared unblinkingly at Fang Jin’s tear-streaked, delicate face, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re so ugly, and you’re crying? Keep crying and you’ll get even uglier. My name’s Gu Yuan. What’s yours?”

Fang Jin’s sobs paused. Gu Yuan? That Gu Yuan?!

A suffocating fear instantly gripped Fang Jin’s body. His heart nearly stopped, and he forgot to breathe. In his panic, his first instinct was to leap up and flee like a frightened rabbit.

“Hey!” The little boy yelped in surprise. “Where are you going? Get back here!”

Fang Jin leaped down the steps and sprinted desperately into the distance, hearing the boy’s furious shout behind him:

“Hey! Give me back my handkerchief! That’s my mom’s!”

Daring not even to glance back, Fang Jin seemed to hear pounding footsteps—like the boy was chasing him. But he was terrified, running faster than he ever had in his life. The wind howled past his ears until his foot caught on something.

A sudden sensation of weightlessness struck him, as if he’d plunged from a cliff into an abyss.

“Ah!”

Fang Jin bolted upright, his chest heaving.

The inner chamber glowed with a dim, orange-yellow light. Gu Mingzong sat on the other side of the king-sized bed, not even looking up from his laptop. “What is it?”

Fang Jin forced down his gasp, his voice hoarse. “Nothing… I just… I dreamed I fell.”

The inner chamber of the study was one of the most lavish spaces in the entire estate. Gu Mingzong had often worked late into the night here during his youth, and the room reflected this with its opulent furnishings and amenities, including a private bathroom, dressing room, and tea lounge.

The circular room was exceptionally spacious, with only Gu Mingzong’s bedside lamp lit, leaving most of the space shrouded in dim, hazy light. The snow-white, thin quilt lay crumpled on the sheets, its pale yellow hue exuding a warm, clean aura.

Gu Mingzong stopped typing and beckoned Fang Jin over.

Fang Jin slowly approached. Gu Mingzong pressed the back of his hand against Fang Jin’s cold-sweat-drenched forehead for a moment, then checked his pulse behind his ear. He set down his computer and went to the tea room. A few minutes later, he returned with a half-cup of hot water and gestured for Fang Jin to drink it. “You have a fever.”

Only then did Fang Jin realize his head felt heavy and dizzy, accompanied by an uncomfortable fluttering in his chest.

“It’s a low-grade fever caused by emotional stress and overthinking,” Gu Mingzong said. “No need for medication. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

Fang Jin sipped the hot water, feeling his heart rate gradually stabilize. He glanced at the phone on the bedside table—it was already 3 AM, and there were over twenty missed calls.

He froze in shock. All the calls were from Gu Yuan, with the last one coming in just after 2 AM. He must have been searching for Fang Jin all night.

“No need to call back,” Gu Mingzong said, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. “He can’t live without his assistant? He’s still not weaned.”

Fang Jin’s heart stirred, but he maintained a perfectly neutral expression. “But what if the Eldest Master has some urgent matter to discuss with me?”

“What urgent matter could he possibly have? Gu Yang took him out for an ‘entertainment program’ last night.”

Fang Jin knew exactly what Gu Yang’s “entertainment program” meant. His fingers paused for a moment before he casually placed the phone back on the bedside table. Behind him, Gu Mingzong instructed, “Bring me the tablet from the drawer.”

Fang Jin opened the drawer and found a device resembling a tablet. Gu Mingzong took it without hesitation, entering a four-digit password right in front of him. After unlocking, the screen displayed an electronic writing pad. He casually signed his name using the pen’s other end, and the device verified the signature. A notification popped up on his computer screen, confirming that the purchase order had been sent.

“What is this?” Fang Jin asked, genuinely curious.

“I recently signed a contract to purchase shares in a company, so the main account needs to transfer funds,” Gu Mingzong said calmly. “It’s nothing to do with you. Go back to sleep.”

A fleeting suspicion crossed Fang Jin’s mind, as if his subconscious had caught a whiff of unease. But just as he tried to examine it further, the feeling vanished without a trace.

This instinctive sense of danger had been honed over years of being raised by Gu Mingzong and men like him—a keen sixth sense for sensing and predicting crises.

Fang Jin lay on the soft, snow-white pillow, trying to piece together the fragments of his uneasy thoughts. But the moment he tried to focus, a wave of drowsiness washed over him. The lingering effects of his low fever made it hard to concentrate. He closed his eyes, feeling Gu Mingzong tuck the blanket around him before the bedside lamp clicked off.

The room finally fell into complete darkness.

—

Just as Fang Jin had anticipated, Gu Yuan spent the entire night searching for him.

At the reception, when Gu Yuan first noticed Fang Jin’s disappearance, he assumed the younger man had gone to grab a bite to eat. But halfway through the event, Chi Wanru insisted on introducing him to her niece, and Gu Yuan, growing increasingly impatient, tried to summon Fang Jin to rescue him. When he still couldn’t find him, Gu Yuan started to get irritable.

By the time Gu Yang invited him out after the cocktail party, Gu Yuan was still relentlessly calling Fang Jin. He could get through, but there was no answer. Finally, at two in the morning, he stumbled home, reeking of alcohol. He knocked on Fang Jin’s door, but there was no response. His last call went unanswered as well, so he flung his phone aside and collapsed onto the bed, instantly falling asleep.

The next morning, Gu Yuan descended the stairs with a stormy expression and sat down at the breakfast table. Before him lay a typical Western breakfast: bread, bacon, fried eggs, and roasted tomatoes, along with a large cup of rich, steaming latte.

Having spent years studying abroad, this was his usual breakfast fare. But after being mercilessly plied with alcohol by Gu Yang the night before, he woke up without Fang Jin’s customary hangover remedy of sour bamboo shoot and old duck soup. The resentment that had been fermenting all night was now clearly etched on his face. He slammed his knife and fork onto the snow-white tablecloth and turned to the butler. “Where’s Fang Jin?”

The butler stammered, unable to speak.

Gu Yuan’s sharp eyes caught the strangeness in the butler’s expression, and suspicion surged within him. Just as he was about to press further, he heard Gu Mingzong’s cold voice from behind:

“You can’t even eat without your assistant, is that it?”

Gu Yuan turned around and saw Gu Mingzong entering the dining hall, followed a few steps behind by Chi Wanru, who had already finished her grooming and moved with graceful, swaying steps.

Gu Yuan stood up and said calmly, “Father.”

Gu Mingzong looked his eldest son up and down but said nothing more. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

For Gu Yuan, this was the most nauseating situation, with Chi Wanru present. Ever since he was a child, Gu Mingzong had scolded him far more than Gu Yang. Whenever Chi Wanru was around, she would subtly add fuel to the fire, pretending to mediate while secretly stoking the flames—a pattern that had repeated countless times.

Those raised in aristocratic families developed a remarkable talent for these verbal undercurrents. Gu Yuan had intuitively grasped the hidden barbs in others’ words from the age of seven or eight. Though Gu Mingzong ignored Chi Wanru, Gu Yuan couldn’t confront her openly in front of his father. This left him seething inwardly, forced to find opportunities later to secretly retaliate against Gu Yang.

Gu Yuan braced himself for another round of verbal sparring. To his slight surprise, however, Chi Wanru remained unusually silent today, quietly taking her seat at the lower end of the table.

…You’re acting a bit off.

Gu Yuan sliced the bacon, his sharp eyes glancing sideways at Chi Wanru. Despite her immaculate makeup, her face lacked color, and her profile appeared stiff—hardly befitting the image of the Gu family’s soon-to-be matriarch, who should be basking in recent success. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, a subtle expression that somehow gave the impression she was deliberately avoiding something.

Silence had always reigned at the Gu family’s dining table. With his mind preoccupied, Gu Yuan quickly finished his meal, excused himself, and strode out of the room.

Gu Mingzong, coffee cup in one hand and phone in the other to check his emails, waited until Gu Yuan’s figure had completely disappeared at the end of the corridor outside the dining hall before calmly saying, “What do you want to ask?”

Chi Wanru’s hand froze mid-air, knife and fork suspended.

In the span of a few seconds, countless conjectures flashed through her mind, only to be ruthlessly suppressed. After a long pause, she carefully phrased her question, striving for calmness: “I just… it’s just a coincidence that I happened to run into you coming down the stairs and then came to the dining hall with you. It’s a bit too much of a coincidence.”

Gu Mingzong’s voice remained utterly impassive. “I deliberately waited for you.”

Under normal circumstances, Chi Wanru should have felt delighted. But now, an indescribable chill crept up her spine, seeping into every fiber of her being. “Is this for the Eldest Master to see?”

“You’re overthinking it. It’s for everyone to see.”

Gu Mingzong finally turned off his phone, his gaze both refined and amused as he looked at her. In that moment, Chi Wanru almost saw her own reflection in the depths of his eyes, but she knew it was a face drained of color.

“Fang Jin is recovered and still working with me,” Gu Mingzong answered the two questions she had asked Fang Jin at the banquet last night. He smiled. “Thank you for your concern, but remember to keep this to yourself.”

Chi Wanru took a deep breath. After a long pause, her voice steadied. “Understood.”

Gu Yuan strode down the corridor, passing his own door without stopping. He reached the next door and pulled out his key.

The subordinates he and Gu Yang brought back were all housed next to their respective bosses, making it convenient to gather for impromptu meetings—discussing how to undermine rivals and create opportunities to outdo their brothers in front of their father. Gu Yuan had brought very few people this time, and Fang Jin was staying in a small bedroom right next door. Last night, when Gu Yuan stumbled back drunk late at night, he had knocked on the door, but there was no response. Fang Jin probably hadn’t even come back to sleep.

Gu Yuan immediately went to the butler for the key after leaving the dining room. When he opened the door, he found the bedroom empty, but a few changed clothes were scattered on the bed.

“Fang Jin?” Gu Yuan frowned, then noticed the bathroom door was open. Fang Jin was soaking in a steamy bathtub, his expression stunned.

Gu Yuan: “……”

Fang Jin opened his mouth, closed it, then repeated the motion several times before weakly managing, “The doorbell… outside.”

Gu Yuan retorted, “Why didn’t you close the bathroom door while you were bathing?”

Fang Jin was speechless. He instinctively sank deeper into the hot water, leaving only his neck and head above the surface.

It wasn’t as if anything unusual had happened before. Gu Yuan had even called Fang Jin to bring him fresh underwear while he was showering at the company gym. But now, seeing Fang Jin’s subtle, unconscious movement, a strange unease rose in Gu Yuan’s chest. He felt restless, even compelled to avert his gaze from that bare neck.

This is absurd, Gu Yuan thought. Fang Jin isn’t some maiden. There’s no need to make such a fuss.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and stared down at Fang Jin in the bathtub. “Where were you last night?”