novelraw Chapter 180 It Was Him
Chapter 180 It Was Him
Lu Xiran has decided to live in Switzerland.
After meeting Jin Qiqi, she spent the entire afternoon at Yunyuji Restaurant. Aunt Lu held her hand and asked her all sorts of questions, while Uncle Ye brought out some of her favorite dishes from the kitchen. The three of them sat in a corner and chatted for a long time, just like they always did.
The next day, she met up with Fang Rui and Xiao Xiao. The two girls, one on each side of her, chattered away all afternoon, talking about everything from gossip at the design institute to new projects, from the latest milk tea to which brand of eyeshadow lasts the longest. Fang Rui asked, "Emma, when are you coming back?" Xiao Xiao nodded vigorously beside her. Lu Xiran smiled and said, "I'll come back when I have time," without mentioning that it might be a long time.
Jin Qiqi was still unwilling to give up. She secretly sent a message to Xin Mubai.
Xin Mubai was revising the blueprints when he received the message.
He glanced at the screen, put down his pen, and immediately sent a message to Lu Xiran: [I heard you didn't make it?]
Lu Xiran paused, startled by the message. Before she could reply, another message popped up: "You absolutely have to have a meal with me." This was followed by a voice message. She opened it, and Xin Mubai's voice came through the receiver, with that perpetually nonchalant smile: "If you don't want to see me, I'll book a flight to Switzerland next week to find you. My visa hasn't expired yet anyway. The first person you see will still be me."
Lu Xiran couldn't help but laugh. She discovered that Xin Mubai truly possessed a magical power—he always managed to make her laugh.
All I could reply was "okay".
That evening, she returned to Lin Chen's house. Not wanting to go to the rooftop too early, and with her uncle still out, probably working overtime, she sat at her desk, turned on her computer, and habitually checked her email.
For three years, her senior had helped her revise countless designs and solve countless problems. She didn't know who he was, what he looked like, or even why he was willing to spend so much time helping her. All she knew was that he was always there when she needed him most.
She started typing.
[Senior, I'm going back to Switzerland next week. Are you in China? Could we meet up so I can thank you in person?]
The cursor blinked on the screen. She hesitated for a moment, then pressed the send button.
She had suggested meeting up many times. Each time, the senior didn't reply. She told herself that maybe he just didn't want to see her. Maybe he had his reasons, maybe he was just helping a junior and didn't need any thanks. Just as she was about to shut down her computer, a new email notification popped up.
Why go back to Switzerland?
She paused, taken aback. It wasn't a rejection, nor silence, but a question of why. Her heart skipped a beat.
I've figured it out. Some things need to be let go.
After typing those words, she hovered her finger over the send button and looked at them one last time. Put it down. She really should put it down.
Meanwhile, Gu Yanshen sat in front of the computer in his study, the screen light reflecting on his face and clearly illuminating the dark circles under his eyes. He looked at the line of text she had sent, feeling an emptiness in his heart, as if something had ripped a piece out.
He recalled another sentence she had said—"Gu Yanshen, how many more times do you think you can push me away?"
He really has no chance left, doesn't he?
Isn't this the result he wanted? She's safely back in Switzerland, and he won't drag her into those dangers anymore. But he sits there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, unable to type a single word.
The next day at noon, Lu Xiran arrived at the restaurant where she had arranged to meet Xin Mubai.
Xin Mubai was already there, sitting by the window with a thick architecture magazine open in front of him. Sunlight fell on him, warming his light gray sweater. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, closed the magazine, stood up, and pulled out the chair opposite him.
"Have you been waiting long?" Lu Xiran sat down.
"Not long." Xin Mubai pushed the magazine aside. "I'm currently looking at a project. If you come—"
He suddenly stopped, picked up his phone, glanced at it, frowned, and then put it down again.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing, we're discussing a proposal in the work group." He picked up his water glass, took a sip, leaned back in his chair, and said casually, "I'm currently working on a bidding process for an art museum. The client has a lot of requirements, and they're not satisfied with any of the several revisions we've done."
Lu Xiran nodded. "What are your requirements?"
"Light and shadow." When Xin Mubai mentioned this, his eyes lit up, and he seemed to be ignited by something. "They wanted that kind of light—not light shining in from the outside, but light that grows out of the building itself. In good architecture, light shouldn't be an addition; it should be part of the space, born from the structure, and flowing with time."
Lu Xiran's fingers paused on the water glass.
"I did a design before, which involved creating an angled opening in the dome." Xin Mubai drew an arc on the table with his finger. "The light travels along the wall from morning to night, and the angle is different in different seasons. The client said it was too complicated and the budget wasn't enough, so it was rejected." He shrugged, his tone carrying a hint of regret, but more so a carefree attitude of "never mind arguing with people who don't understand."
Lu Xiran looked at him.
She recalled a passage her senior had written in an email: "Light doesn't shine in; it grows out. The structure of a building should determine the direction of the light, rather than waiting until the structure is built and then considering where to put the windows. That kind of light is lifeless."
That was three years ago. She had just started working on her graduation project and was stuck on the relationship between light and shadow for a whole week when her senior sent her that email. She read it countless times, and each time she felt as if someone had opened a window for her in the darkness.
Now Xin Mubai is sitting opposite her and casually said the same thing.
"What's wrong?" Xin Mubai noticed her gaze. "Is there something on my face?"
"No." Lu Xiran lowered her head, her fingers gripping the cup tightly. "That art museum proposal you mentioned earlier... it was rejected?"
"Yes, the budget wasn't enough. The client said that the angled construction of the dome would be too difficult and too costly." He shook his head. "What a pity. I really liked that design. It was alive, it could move, it could change shape, it could draw on the walls. I tried many angles before finding the most suitable one."
Lu Xiran's breathing became erratic.
"And what happened to you after that?" she asked, her voice a little tense.
"And then?" Xin Mubai thought for a moment, "Then it was changed to a flat roof, with the light coming in through the skylight—fixed, static. It's acceptable, but not what I wanted to do." He smiled, a hint of resentment in his smile, but quickly masked it. "That's how design is; ideals and reality always clash."
Lu Xiran looked at him. Suddenly, she remembered those late nights when she was at a loss with the blueprints, and the emails her senior would send always hit the nail on the head. Those words, those ideas, that understanding of light—exactly the same as what Xin Mubai had just said.
"Xin Mubai," she suddenly spoke.
"Um?"