TCWSITD – Chapter 47.2

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Chapter 47.2 – Keeping An Appointment

The staff prepared a private room for them. There were just the two of them seated across from each other. What was meant to be a casual catch-up felt more like a business negotiation.

Lin Jiang asked for a glass of water, while He Gu ordered a cup of coffee.

Both of them seemed a bit distracted.

He Gu broke the silence first. “I haven’t congratulated you on your championship win yet. I was actually at your match that day.”

Lin Jiang hadn’t expected that, despite everything that had happened between them, He Gu would still come to watch him play. A sudden wave of calm washed over him—just like the old days when they were still friends.

He stared down at his glass, nodding absentmindedly.

After a pause, Lin Jiang hesitated and asked, “I saw online that you pulled out your investment from KUG. Is that true?”

KUG had been He Gu’s dream–it was something he built from the ground up. It had survived the toughest times, so Lin Jiang couldn’t understand why he would give it up now.

He Gu smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

Lin Jiang’s chest tightened. “Why?”

Once, KUG had meant everything to He Gu.

But then his family began interfering, bringing in all sorts of investors. Gradually, it lost its original meaning.

He Gu became nothing more than a puppet, every step watched and controlled. His dream had become a prison, a cocoon he’d spun himself into.

Truthfully, he should have woken up to reality long ago.

People hiding in a box have no right to talk about dreams.

Only by gathering enough strength to break free could he truly become himself.

Stirring his coffee lightly, He Gu grinned. “Why are you suddenly concerned about me?”

Lin Jiang set his glass down. “Just curious. I remembered you once said KUG was your lifeline. I thought it meant everything to you. I never thought…”

Never thought he could abandon everything so easily.

From something as small as himself to something as big as KUG, it seemed nothing could truly hold his heart.

He Gu chuckled softly, glancing down at his wristwatch, a memory from long ago surfacing suddenly.

“When I was a kid, I loved model kits. I’d sneak around playing with them until my mother found out. I begged her through tears not to throw them away. She said she wouldn’t as long as I obeyed her from then on. After that, those models became a knife hanging over my neck. I never knew when it might drop so I lived in constant fear. Guess what happened to them in the end?”

He lowered his head with a smile. “I took them out and burned them myself. I made sure nothing was left.”

His cold voice echoed in the private room. “When what I love turned into a weapon that restrained me, it’s better to cut it out completely, so nothing in this world can ever hold me back again.”

The water in the glass rippled gently, stirring a memory of He Gu from his previous life. A faint pang of suffocation fluttered in Lin Jiang’s chest.

KUG was He Gu’s bottom line. Lin Jiang didn’t know what He Gu truly wanted—what could possibly be worth abandoning KUG for?

His throat moved involuntarily as he picked up the water glass, his wrist slightly unsteady.

He Gu caught sight of the movement and smiled. “Are you scared of me?”

The cramped private room was eerily quiet, inevitably making Lin Jiang think of his previous life again.

He Gu had used every means to trap him in KUG, monitoring every move he made. It was as if He Gu was deranged—the more he liked something, the more he wanted to destroy it.

Lin Jiang didn’t understand what He Gu truly desired. He only vaguely sensed that perhaps He Gu didn’t know what normal affection looked like.

He Gu’s expression was hidden behind his glasses. He never showed his emotions, so it was impossible to guess. “Lin Jiang, you don’t really have to be afraid of me. There’s a clear difference between liking and loving.”

Lin Jiang set down his glass, unsure how to respond. “Whatever happens, we’re friends. I still hope you find some happiness.”

He Gu paused, staring at the watch on his wrist—one Lin Jiang had picked out himself. The things Lin Jiang left him were few, yet each one stirred his heart deeply.

Gently adjusting the watch, He Gu smiled. “Thank you.”

Lin Jiang’s phone on the table vibrated. It was a message from Shen Ju.

[Shen Ju: Not done eating yet? I miss you.]

He immediately picked up the phone, but He Gu had already seen it.

The smile behind He Gu’s glasses faded away. He turned his gaze to the window, his hands resting on the table, clenching and unclenching anxiously.

After Lin Jiang replied to the message, the phone vibrated again. Shen Ju on the other end was just like a lovestruck teenager, completely unable to hide his feelings.

He Gu didn’t know what messages were exchanged, nor did he really care.

What occupied his thoughts most were the early years after he first met Lin Jiang—years far better than the present.

But he killed it with his own hands.

After sending the message, Lin Jiang glanced over. “Sorry.”

He Gu smiled politely, maintaining composure as he stirred a storm in his coffee cup.“What’s this? Going out to eat and not bringing him along?”

An explanation was possible, but Lin Jiang felt a strange reluctance and stayed silent, tacitly admitting it.

He stopped stirring the coffee, staring at the swirling whirlpool that refused to settle. His expression was guarded. “Together so soon? Why?”

Lin Jiang didn’t answer.

He Gu leaned back in his chair, the smile on his face completely gone.

He suppressed his emotions and tried to make himself look calm, but the coldness in his voice was unmistakable. “What makes him different from me?”

Lin Jiang avoided his gaze. “There is a difference.”

“There’s a difference?” He Gu was so angry that he laughed.

All his years of etiquette and refined upbringing were no match for the impact of Lin Jiang’s words.

The words spilled out almost involuntarily: “What’s difference between choosing him now and choosing me from back then? Have you even met his family? If you’re with him, do you think they’d approve? How is he any different from me? You weren’t willing to take that step for me, so do you think it’s okay if you take it with him?”

Lin Jiang tightened his grip on the glass, the light refracted off it cold and sharp as a blade. “I would have taken that step toward you, but did you ever give me the chance?”

“Lin Jiang.”

He Gu rose to his feet, his breath coming a little uneven.

He had many things he could say to Lin Jiang, but he felt those words were too cruel. Over the years, he had been unwilling to tear apart the illusion.

But today, Lin Jiang’s words ripped open the deepest, most painful wound.

Removing his glasses, he braced himself weakly against the table, finally voicing his most honest thought. “I am my mother’s son. She wouldn’t do anything to me. But you? I don’t believe your feelings for me are strong enough to withstand her spite. If I already knew it was hopeless from the start, why would I even try?”

Lin Jiang gave a bitter, self-mocking laugh. Some people are just naturally cold-hearted, assuming everyone else’s heart is as frigid as theirs.

His gaze fell, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t care what your mother thinks. She can stab me a thousand times and it won’t hurt—but one cut from you, and I’d be dead.”

That was why, back then, He Gu’s single line—”Let’s just be ordinary friends”—had utterly destroyed the fearless Lin Jiang who had once charged forward bravely for him.

Every ounce of strength drained from He Gu in an instant, and he sank back into his chair.

Struggling to restrain himself, he said, “Let’s both calm down.”

Both of them sank into silence, each trying to calm themselves.

Lin Jiang suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion. He looked up at He Gu and said, “You don’t really know how to love someone, He Gu. Your mother never taught you.”

Just like in their previous life, Lin Jiang had stayed at KUG, yet all He Gu had given him was endless control and relentless demands.

At this thought, Lin Jiang suddenly felt at peace.

This was a love destined to have no result. No matter what choices were made, the ending would always be the same.

He drained the water in his glass, set it down gently, and said quietly, “Thanks for the hospitality.”

He Gu lowered his head. “I’m not like her.”

Lin Jiang delivered the final blow. “To me, you’re no different.”

He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked away without looking back.

He always thought he could warm He Gu’s heart—only to realize he was wrong from the very beginning.

Today’s conversation had completely erased the young version of He Gu from his heart. From this moment on, he would no longer be held captive by this burden and would focus on living his own life fully.

The cramped private room was thick with suffocating tension. He Gu kept his head bowed, unmoving for a long time, until his phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Young Master He, it’s time for us to leave.”

“Alright.”

He put his glasses back on and studied his reflection in the glass window, meticulously adjusting his tie until every angle was flawless.

He Gu smiled bitterly to himself. Even on a day like this, he still had to suppress his emotions and swiftly shift into work mode.

From a certain perspective, he really did resemble his mother.

As expected, a monster could only raise another cold-blooded monster.

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