Deep in the Night - Chapter 7

DITN: Chapter 7

Gu Mingzong pushed open the door leading from the balcony to the banquet hall. Behind him, Chi Wanru watched his retreating figure, her eyes wide with astonishment.

When she had witnessed the scene from upstairs, she had felt a twinge of schadenfreude. Whether Gu Yuan was putting on a show for Chi Qiu or something else, the fact that his father had seen this meant Gu Yuan was finished. Fang Jin’s days were likely numbered as well.

But just as she was about to speak, Gu Mingzong raised a hand to stop her.

Stealing a glance at him, she saw no trace of anger or irritation on his face, not even the slightest ripple of emotion.

Moments later, Gu Yuan strode away across the lawn below. Fang Jin stood alone, his head bowed, seemingly dejected and motionless. Unbeknownst to him, Gu Mingzong was watching his dejected figure from above, and after a long pause, he sighed softly.

Chi Wanru could scarcely believe her ears. That sigh carried a unmistakable hint of pity.

As she followed Gu Mingzong back into the banquet hall, the servants bustling past bowed in greeting. But her mind was in turmoil; she lacked even the inclination to glance at them.

Chi Wanru had long known that Gu Mingzong had been kind to Fang Jin from the day he was bought. At first, she assumed this was a rare pang of guilt in Gu Mingzong’s life—after all, this snow-white, adorable child was destined to die in Gu Yuan’s place someday.

But as time passed, she gradually realized that the child was becoming increasingly important in Gu Mingzong’s life, even eclipsing the importance of his two biological sons.

She remembered when Fang Jin first arrived, crying incessantly through the nights and running fevers. Gu Mingzong, perhaps feeling pity for the boy, brought over a newborn kitten from a business partner’s home for him to care for. Yet Chi Wanru knew that Gu Mingzong had never liked fuzzy animals. Later, when the servants neglected the kitten and it fell ill and died, Young Fang Jin clutched the cold body of the kitten and wailed miserably. Gu Mingzong sat nearby, frowning as he stared at the boy.

Just as Chi Wanru thought he would kick the sobbing child out, she saw Gu Mingzong unexpectedly smile, grab a handful of chocolates, and beckon the boy over. “Come here,” he said. “Stop crying. Here’s some candy for you.”

That was likely the first time Gu Mingzong had ever comforted a child. In the past, when Gu Yuan would cry and refuse to eat, Gu Mingzong would simply pick up his son and throw him out of the room.

Later, Gu Mingzong sent Fang Jin to school—not just any ordinary middle school, but an elite institution that required both money and effort to secure admission. During that period, Gu Mingzong was finalizing the family’s whitewashing efforts. Amidst those dangerous and turbulent times, it was said that he personally kept Young Fang Jin close by, like a child he was raising himself. Meanwhile, Gu Yuan was entrusted to bodyguards and sent overseas, and Gu Yang was left in the care of his mother.

Chi Wanru sometimes even wondered if Fang Jin might be Gu Mingzong’s illegitimate son—though she knew it was a baseless and absurd conjecture. There were no discernible similarities between their facial features. Yet Gu Mingzong displayed an extraordinary patience and tolerance toward this child destined to be sacrificed, far beyond anything she could have imagined.

Fang Jin had been unusually timid since childhood, prone to convulsions and fevers—likely the lingering effects of witnessing his parents’ suicide when he was very young. At thirteen or fourteen, he stumbled upon Gu Mingzong executing a traitor, and the traumatic experience triggered a temporary loss of speech. Even after recovering, he stuttered for a long time, making conversation with him unbearable for anyone. Yet Gu Mingzong conversed with him with surprising patience, encouraging him to speak without ever showing the slightest impatience. It wasn’t until a year or two later that Fang Jin gradually returned to normal.

When did the affection born of daily companionship begin to change?

Chi Wanru didn’t know, nor dared she imagine it. Whenever she approached this thought, a chill ran up her spine, as if she had glimpsed a fatal secret she shouldn’t know.

After Fang Jin’s stutter was cured, Gu Mingzong sent him to study in Europe, flying to Germany every time school was in recess to visit him. Chi Wanru heard that Gu Mingzong always traveled alone. From that moment on, she abandoned any hope of officially joining the family.

No one could have imagined—and Chi Wanru herself was loath to admit it—that the child sold into the Gu family, destined to die in another’s place, had become the sole obstacle to her ascending the throne as family matriarch. No, even his fated death might be erased. After all, when Gu Yuan faced danger in his teens, Fang Jin emerged unscathed, not a hair out of place. Gu Mingzong, who had allowed such an exception to occur once, could easily let it happen again.

Was this love? Even Chi Wanru found the idea absurd.

Gu Mingzong was a man of unpredictable moods, capricious in his benevolence and cruelty, maintaining a callous indifference toward most worldly matters. He seemed to lack any positive moral compass.

If this could be called love, even the most clichéd, third-rate melodrama would rival the legendary romance of Liang Shanbo and Zhu YingTai.

Yet, given Gu Yuan’s position, to be so magnanimous toward someone—beyond this absurd sentiment, Fang Jin couldn’t imagine any other plausible reason.

The reception concluded successfully, the brief interruption leaving no discernible impact on the guests in the opulent hall. Even Gu Yuan, delivering the closing remarks, maintained his composure and elegant demeanor.

After finishing his speech, he glanced over the sea of applauding hands, his gaze briefly pausing on a familiar figure in the crowd.

Fang Jin stood by the buffet table, his complexion slightly pale under the dazzling lights. His expression remained calm, blending into the crowd as he clapped along.

Gu Yuan averted his gaze, refusing to look at him.

A bewildering mix of humiliation and anger simmered within Gu Yuan. What’s this all about? he fumed. Pretending to be so attentive and caring, only to run off with someone else and ignore my calls? And then lying to me afterward?

Does that mean all those times he made me the center of his world were just lies?

A faint anger simmered in Gu Yuan’s heart. After the cocktail party ended, Gu Yang and a group of wealthy second-generation cousins, all around the same age, planned to go street racing. A distant cousin asked if Gu Yuan wanted to join, and without really thinking, he agreed.

“Huh?” Gu Yang was surprised. “Didn’t you swear off racing after that accident, Eldest Brother? Are you looking for some excitement today?”

Gu Yuan snapped out of his daze. “I didn’t catch what you were planning to do. You guys go ahead. Just be careful.”

The cousin pressed him with curious questions. Gu Yang laughed. “My brother here used to sneak out and race cars when he was in school. He crashed into a utility pole in the middle of the night and nearly ended up in the ICU. But since we’re all drunk today, that’s dangerous too. How about we go back to that pub from last night? I heard they’re hosting a White Night Carnival tonight. We can see how lively it gets.”

Normally, Gu Yuan wouldn’t bother hanging out with distant relatives he couldn’t even name. Even if he was just killing time, he’d only do it occasionally. Gu Yang was the one who spent all day running around and causing trouble. But today, for some reason—maybe because he didn’t want to go home early and face Fang Jin—he half-heartedly nodded along when Gu Yang started urging him again.

By the time Gu Yuan arrived at the club, he already regretted it. This seedy, mixed-bag nightclub was far too chaotic for his taste. The dazzling lights, the raucous DJ, and the scantily clad men and women gyrating on the dance floor held no appeal for him. He downed a drink and tried to leave, but Gu Yang stopped him.

“Don’t be so serious, Eldest Brother!” Gu Yang said. “Come on, get Xiao Jie over here!”

Someone nearby dragged over a heavily made-up young person with short hair and an androgynous, almost handsome face. The thick layer of makeup obscured their features. Gu Yuan glanced at them and smiled faintly. “Is that a guy?”

“Eldest Brother knows his types,” Gu Yang said with a wink. He gave a signal, and Xiao Jie slithered over like a snake. Their eyelashes, coated in shimmering gold, fluttered like butterfly wings as they offered Gu Yuan a cigarette with a saccharine smile.

This person wasn’t as good-looking as that third-rate celebrity from the other day, but they certainly knew how to read the room. Still, who knew what was in the cigarettes offered in a place like this? Gu Yuan sank deeper into the sofa, casually extinguished the cigarette, and asked, “How old are you?”

Xiao Jie purred, “Eighteen.”

No wonder they could pull off that look. In a few years, when their features fully matured, even heavy makeup wouldn’t be able to mask it.

“Going to school?”

“Third year of high school. I only come out during breaks.”

Gu Yuan shot him a mocking glance, a look that sent a shiver down Xiao Jie’s spine. After a long pause, he stammered, “… The Boss told us to say that. Customers are happier when they hear we’re students…”

Gu Yuan thought to himself, What kind of twisted fetish is this? We’re all selling ourselves here—how is being a student supposed to be more noble than not? Besides, anyone who comes to this dump to throw money around and buy a good time is just as low-class as the rest of us. We’re all in the same boat, so who’s in a position to judge?

“Boss…” Xiao Jie whimpered, inching closer to Gu Yuan but not daring to get too close, sinking deep into the sofa cushions instead.

He could tell this sharp, intense young man was different from the other clients who came to play with him. Gu Yuan’s attire revealed neither designer labels nor ostentatious wealth, yet the wealthy second-generation heirs who accompanied him all seemed to fear him.

There was something indescribably commanding about him. Even sitting quietly in the corner, he commanded attention—a presence so striking that it demanded notice, without needing to scatter money or buy rounds for the room.

Xiao Jie had never encountered someone of this caliber before. He didn’t understand that this was the aura of someone who had truly wielded power, a natural-born leader.

“Does your guest like you dressed like this?” Gu Yuan asked nonchalantly.

“Most guys who like boys prefer this look,” Xiao Jie explained quickly. “They like someone who looks girlish, with a soft body and supple joints—before their bones harden. This type is the most popular here. If you really want someone muscular, wouldn’t that just make you gay?”

Gu Yuan asked, “What’s so interesting about boys?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of fun. Boys have their own charm, and they’re so tight.” Xiao Jie’s heavily made-up eyes blinked, and he mustered the courage to climb onto the seat, gently blowing into Gu Yuan’s ear. “Want to try?”

Gu Yuan turned to scrutinize him, his gaze making Xiao Jie’s heart skip a beat.

It wasn’t a lustful or provocative look, but one of contemplation and comparison, as if he were carefully examining every inch of Xiao Jie’s features, seeing through his shadow to glimpse another person.

“…Never mind,” Gu Yuan said abruptly. He stood up, pulled a few bills from his wallet, and tossed them down without acknowledging Gu Yang, who was surrounded by a flock of eager women nearby. He simply pushed through the crowd and walked out.

Xiao Jie startled and reached out to stop him, but his hand froze mid-air, his courage faltering. He could only watch helplessly as Gu Yuan strode out of the nightclub.

Gu Yuan walked alone down the bustling street, surrounded by the flickering neon lights and the constant flow of traffic. Sensually dressed teenagers giggled as they passed by.

Tall and handsome, he strode through the city night with his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer trousers, drawing glances from the girls. Yet he seemed completely oblivious to their attention.

What’s so interesting about liking boys?

Upon reflection, it did seem rather strange. He knew this was a new trend that had gained popularity in recent years, but personally, he had absolutely no interest in bodies with the same physical structure as his own.

Yet when he looked at that alluringly pretty boy, he felt as if he could see through the thick layer of makeup to glimpse another person.

The one who, under the starlit sky, had flushed crimson, looking both embarrassed and slightly angry, averting his gaze and refusing to meet Gu Yuan’s eyes.

Gu Yuan’s mind was in chaos. He compulsively replayed every detail of that moment over and over, trying to remember the exact angle of Fang Jin’s lowered eyelashes, the elegant lines of his profile, and the snow-white lobe of his ear peeking from beneath his hair. He felt like he was going mad, yet at the same time, a strange, hazy, and irresistible feeling was welling up inside him.

He thought again of that glaring kiss mark, but now he didn’t want to get angry. He just wanted to calm down and have a proper conversation with his assistant—even if there wasn’t really anything to talk about, just hearing his voice would be enough.

Gu Yuan stopped by a shop window on the main street, pulled out his phone, and dialed Fang Jin’s number.

Beep beep—beep beep—

“The number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable. Please…”

Without thinking, the fury he had suppressed at the banquet hall earlier, combined with the strange arousal he’d felt in the nightclub just now, exploded, incinerating all his reason in an instant.

With a loud crash, Gu Yuan hurled his phone across the sidewalk, shattering it into pieces that scattered across the pavement.

After the reception, Fang Jin returned to his room alone and sat down in the armchair behind his desk.

Though exhausted, he didn’t dare go to sleep.

Gu Yuan had probably gone out clubbing with Gu Yang and the others to unwind. He wouldn’t need Fang Jin tonight—actually, that was a good thing, since no one knew how Gu Mingzong might react.

Gu Mingzong rarely lost his temper. Fang Jin had only witnessed it once, when he was around twelve or thirteen years old. One day, he had hidden in the bookshelf of the office and fallen asleep, only to be jolted awake by a sudden commotion of voices and footsteps. Peering out through a crack in the shelf, he saw two bodyguards restraining a bloodied man in the office. Behind the desk, Gu Mingzong stood, toying with a dark object.

Fang Jin held his breath.

It was a gun.

The man trembled uncontrollably, begging for mercy, the stench of urine and feces wafting from his body. Gu Mingzong, however, merely smiled, speaking slowly and calmly, his expression perfectly normal. Then, with a swift motion, he raised the gun and fired a single shot.

Bang!

A bloody hole appeared between the man’s eyebrows. Red and white matter erupted in a gruesome spray, and the man collapsed heavily to the floor.

Fang Jin felt his world spin violently. His pupils dilated and constricted spasmodically, and he couldn’t make a sound, a searing pain clenching his throat. Kneeling unsteadily, his vision darkened as his elbow slammed against the wall with a dull thud.

All eyes turned toward the sound. The bodyguards tensed and moved to investigate, but Gu Mingzong, remembering something, raised a hand to stop them.

Gu Mingzong walked to the bookshelf, opened the door, and after a moment’s pause, picked up Young Fang Jin.

The man’s corpse lay on the floor, his wide, blood-red eyes staring blankly at Fang Jin. A pool of blood had already formed beside him. As Gu Mingzong stepped over it, Fang Jin saw his own reflection in the glistening crimson liquid, and for a moment, even his heartbeat seemed to stop.

“It’s alright,” Gu Mingzong murmured, covering Fang Jin’s eyes. “Don’t be afraid. It’s alright now.”

The bodyguards looked uneasy, but Gu Mingzong casually tossed his gun back to them, cradling Young Fang Jin in his arms as he walked out.

That was the first time Fang Jin had ever realized how truly terrifying this man was—the powerful, amiable man who could kill someone with a single gunshot while maintaining the most natural expression.

When Fang Jin first joined the Gu family, he knew only that Gu Mingzong held absolute power over his life and death. He lived in constant fear, imagining Gu Mingzong might one day send men to break down his door and drag him away for dissection. Yet, over time, Gu Mingzong proved to be attentive and caring, patient, tolerant, and considerate. Though not particularly gentle, he was nothing like the monstrous child-eating demon Fang Jin had imagined.

Children are naturally forgetful. Gradually, he let his guard down, even forgetting that he was just a pitiful little boy who could be dragged off at any moment to die in place of the Eldest Master Gu.

But the moment the gunshots rang out, he realized that the man who patiently waited for him to finish his breakfast cereal was the same man who held the power of life and death over others. When he pulled the trigger, his expression was no different from when he looked at Fang Jin.

Like a massive lion lounging lazily, appearing gentle and docile, yet capable of suddenly rising and biting your neck in half.

You never knew when he might decide to kill you. He might be scheming to take your life at any given moment.

It was a shadow-like terror born from the vast disparity in power.

Fang Jin told himself to stay calm.

Gu Mingzong was a man who acted on impulse. When he felt like it, he’d entrust even the most critical projects to him. Over the years, Fang Jin had faced far more difficult situations, even nearly causing a project to lose over ten million yuan due to his own mistakes. But he had always resolved them through his own efforts. This situation wasn’t particularly dire.

He sat at the desk, forcing himself to review documents and files. His phone was clutched in his hand, but his ears strained to hear any sound from outside the room. After several hours of this, his mind gradually drifted into a fog. Unable to keep his heavy eyelids open any longer, he propped his head up on his arm and fell asleep at the desk.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he felt a soft, warm blanket draped over him in his sleep. He curled up instinctively, savoring the comfort.

A hand gently stroked his hair.

“…Silly child.”

The sigh seemed to echo right beside his ear, yet also distant and faint. In his hazy state, Fang Jin nuzzled his head against the touch, feeling his arm being gently laid flat on the desk, his forehead resting against it.

This position was far more comfortable than before. Just as he was about to sink into a deeper sleep, his phone screen suddenly lit up with a loud vibration.

Fang Jin jolted awake, his grip loosening instinctively. The phone clattered onto the carpet and immediately went dead.

He remained frozen in his seated position for several seconds before noticing the snow-white wool blanket covering him. Turning his head, he saw Gu Mingzong standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass door leading to the balcony. Before Fang Jin could hastily stand, Gu Mingzong nodded and pointed at the phone on the floor.

Only then did Fang Jin realize what had happened. He picked up the phone and saw Gu Yuan’s missed call.

Another unanswered call. Fang Jin felt a chill run down his spine. Just as he was debating whether to call back, Gu Mingzong said in a calm, soothing voice, “Go return his call. He might need something from you.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a cigarette, opened the glass door, and walked onto the balcony.

Fang Jin hesitated briefly before dialing the number. To his surprise, the call went straight to voicemail—Gu Yuan’s phone was off. After several failed attempts, he assumed Gu Yuan’s phone was dead or that the earlier call had been a drunken misdial. He sent a text asking if everything was alright and if he needed anything. When there was no response after a long while, he finally hung up, a twinge of unease in his heart.

Gu Mingzong stood tall on the balcony, facing the vast, secluded Gu Estate shrouded in night. The tip of his cigarette glowed red, flickering in the darkness. Fang Jin gently pushed the door open, the thick smell of smoke immediately assaulting his nostrils. Gu Mingzong narrowed his eyes, as if scrutinizing something in the distance.

Fang Jin followed his gaze. Nearby, water flowed gently through the garden, and yellow light from European-style bronze street lamps pierced the tree shadows. A few moths fluttered repeatedly toward the glow.

“Every year, when they service the gardens, they find moth corpses in the lamp bulbs. I wonder how they get in there. They’re so… persistent.”

Fang Jin didn’t know what Gu Mingzong was trying to say. After a long pause, he simply murmured, “A moth drawn to a flame… it’s instinct.”

“It’s throwing itself recklessly toward the light and heat, heedless of the scorching flames that will ultimately consume it,” Gu Mingzong said calmly. “Instinct can be fatal.”

A crescent moon ascended to its zenith, and silence enveloped the night. Distant insect songs echoed in the stillness. The night breeze rustled through the grass and foliage, carrying the faint whispers of leaves and the delicate fragrance of lotus blossoms from the distant pond, brushing against Fang Jin’s jet-black hair and his slightly bewildered cheek.

Gu Mingzong turned to stare at him. After a long moment, he sighed softly and leaned forward to press a tobacco-scented kiss to Fang Jin’s forehead.

“I just wanted to check if you had a fever,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid. Go back to sleep.”

Fang Jin tossed and turned fitfully throughout the night. He awoke before dawn and lay awake until the sky brightened, then hastily washed up and went to find Gu Yuan.

But Gu Yuan refused to see him.

The Gu family estate was vast, and as the heir apparent, Gu Yuan found it all too easy to avoid Fang Jin. He had other subordinates to rely on, after all. It wasn’t just during the day that he kept his distance; even at evening receptions, he deliberately avoided looking at Fang Jin, speaking to him, or even approaching within several meters, as if the assistant had completely slipped his mind.

Yet Fang Jin never took the initiative to approach Gu Yuan.

One day, Gu Yuan’s gaze accidentally fell upon Fang Jin’s profile in the crowd. He stood alone under the lavish stage lights, looking somewhat lonely amidst the gaily dressed throng, as if an invisible wall separated him from the others.

In that instant, an irresistible urge surged through Gu Yuan, compelling him to push through the crowd and stand face-to-face with Fang Jin. But the moment he took a step, he forcibly restrained himself.

I’m the boss. I can’t act so foolishly, Gu Yuan thought calmly.

He secretly went out to “fool around” with others, completely disregarding me and lying to my face.

I must make him come and apologize himself. No, even an apology won’t suffice. I won’t forgive him unless he’s willing to…

To do what? Gu Yuan felt like a young, irritable wolf, his heart burning with unchannelled fury.

He wasn’t even sure what he wanted Fang Jin to do. He only knew he was deeply dissatisfied with the current situation. But his mind was constantly occupied with the weight of work and the complexities of family infighting. Partly due to lack of time, partly due to subconscious avoidance, he had never seriously considered the matter.

Gu Yuan had lived for over twenty years as the pampered scion of a wealthy family. This was the first time he had encountered a problem that couldn’t be resolved with intelligence, experience, or money.

Gu Yuan maintained a deliberate distance from Fang Jin throughout the cocktail party. On the final day, as everyone prepared to depart, he gathered his subordinates, including Gu Yang and Chi Wanru, to leave the Gu Family Main Residence.

Before leaving, he went to see his father to report on the latest progress of the project with Mingda Shipping. Gu Mingzong listened and nodded, then suddenly asked, “Are you unhappy with the assistant I assigned to you?”

Gu Yuan’s expression shifted slightly before he replied calmly, “No, Fang Jin’s work is impeccable.”

However, Gu Mingzong paid no heed to his response. “If you’re dissatisfied, return him. Don’t just keep him hanging while complaining. Your subordinates are people too; consider their feelings.” He waved dismissively. “You may leave.”

Gu Yuan withdrew from the study. Though his expression remained composed, a careful observer would have noticed the shadow in his eyes.

Why did Gu Mingzong suddenly say these things? Did he notice my emotional state these past few days? Or did he ask Fang Jin, who couldn’t help but pour out his grievances?

Gu Yuan took a deep breath. In that moment, he suddenly realized a truth that was obvious, yet for some reason, he had been deliberately ignoring it all along:

Fang Jin had signed a work contract, not a life bond. He could resign.

He could return to Gu Mingzong’s sect, or even flee far away and never return.

Gu Yuan stood quietly in the corridor for a moment, then suddenly pulled out his new phone. As he strode towards the door, he dialed the HR department’s number.