Gu Yu Cheng writes first
He stands when you come in. That’s the first surprise. Gu Yu Cheng in a dark suit, one button undone, a private room with two cups of tea already poured and no mothers anywhere in sight.
“They’re at the table by the window.” His voice is low and even. “I asked for twenty minutes.”
He waits until you sit before he does. For a man who runs a company, he seems unsure what to do with his hands, and settles for turning his cup a quarter turn on its saucer.
“That day in the corridor, I thought you walked into me on purpose.” A small pause. “You didn’t. I owe you an apology.”
He looks at you directly. The cold, handsome face gives away almost nothing, except that he means it.
“My mother wants me to promise I’ll help with your management courses. I will.” Another pause, as if he’s choosing each word. “I’d still like to know what you actually want from this. A marriage? Or just to be left in peace?”
