Shen Yanzhou stood before the construction site of the skyscraper, his back to the blinding sunlight, gazing at the structure that was beginning to take shape. The towering silhouette and the delicate glass curtain walls gleamed like a transparent gemstone, shining brilliantly under the sun. This was his personal project, a design he called "Horizon." To the outside world, the building represented the future and technology, but to him, it was more a form of self-affirmation.
"Mr. Shen, there's a young man here to see you. His name is—" The assistant's voice was interrupted.
"Don't let him in," Shen Yanzhou answered coldly and dismissively, his gaze still fixed on the building.
"But he's—"
"I said, don't let him in," Shen Yanzhou turned and walked into his office, his expression neutral and detached, his eyes still distant, as if shutting out the world around him. His hand tightened briefly into a fist but relaxed just as quickly. He maintained his cold composure as he stepped inside, leaving no trace of emotion.
The office, with its minimalist design and glass walls, was as cold and sterile as Shen Yanzhou's personality. It was a space devoid of warmth, mirroring his own life. Apart from work, very few people had the privilege of getting close to the inner workings of his mind. But today, that name—Cheng Ye—had somehow stirred something he had long buried deep within himself.
Cheng Ye. The name was familiar, one he could recall clearly from many years ago. He had been a student, eager and full of admiration, and Shen Yanzhou had been his mentor—one whom Cheng Ye had looked up to. But for reasons Shen Yanzhou could never fully understand, he had never allowed that admiration to touch him, never allowed it to matter. Now, years later, that name had suddenly reappeared in his life, and he was unwilling to face it.
Yet, hours later, Shen Yanzhou's phone rang. The screen lit up with an unfamiliar name—Cheng Ye.
He took a deep breath and hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Mr. Shen, long time no see," Cheng Ye's voice came through clearly, bright and warm, yet tinged with a subtle sense of detachment.
"Mmm." Shen Yanzhou's response was brief, his voice steady, just like it always was. There was no change in the rhythm of his heart, nothing to indicate any emotional shift. He spoke as if addressing a mere business contact.
"I'm near your office. Could we meet? I have a project I'd like to discuss with you."
"I'm busy," Shen Yanzhou replied coldly, preparing to end the conversation.
"But Mr. Shen, you probably don't remember me, do you?" Cheng Ye's voice softened, almost as if there was a hidden smile in it. "I was just a kid who once showed you some designs. It's been a few years. You once said, 'Architects can't just look at the surface; their eyes must have light, and their hearts must have warmth.'"
Shen Yanzhou's hand paused momentarily. He remembered that sentence. He remembered it all too well. Cheng Ye—the young man who had once looked up to him with such hope and adoration.
"What have you been doing?" Shen Yanzhou asked, his voice betraying none of the inner turmoil that stirred within him.
"I'm doing photography now, and I've worked on some design projects. Life is a lot like photography—it's about capturing moments," Cheng Ye's voice remained gentle, but there was an undeniable firmness in it.
"Come to the office. We can discuss the details of the collaboration," Shen Yanzhou hesitated for a moment before agreeing. Perhaps it was an unspoken desire to reconnect, to finally confront something long buried in his heart.
He hung up the phone and stood by the large floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city.
Soon after, Cheng Ye arrived at the office, knocking lightly at the door. With the vitality of youth, yet a quiet maturity that seemed to have developed over the years, he entered.
"Mr. Shen," Cheng Ye smiled, and there was a hint of something familiar in that smile, something both old and new.
Shen Yanzhou didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering on Cheng Ye's face. He remembered looking at that youthful face, full of unspoken emotions, and the longing in those eyes. Now, those feelings seemed blurred, yet still clear in his memory.
"You still look young," Shen Yanzhou said softly, his tone carrying an imperceptible touch of emotion.
Cheng Ye smiled, but there was something more in his expression now—something tinged with nostalgia, yet distant. He looked at Shen Yanzhou and spoke slowly, "Mr. Shen, you know? I've never forgotten what you said to me. You said, 'Architects must have light in their eyes and warmth in their hearts.'"
Shen Yanzhou's heart skipped a beat, though his face remained unchanged. He didn't respond. Instead, he glanced past Cheng Ye, his eyes meeting the light outside the window.
The distance between them seemed closer than ever, yet at the same time, it felt like an impenetrable barrier stood between them.