Chapter Twenty-Six: The Reason

What happened in the parking lot? Gu Mengyan’s heart jolted. Could it have been because of her? What was the reason? Was it her attempt to snatch the keys, or had her feelings for Chen Hao been too obvious, and he’d noticed? At that moment, Gu Mengyan began to feel anxious and uncertain. Her preconceived notions prevented her from paying attention to her colleagues’ reactions; while others teased and mocked them, Gu Mengyan was still lost in the enchanting sensation of being tightly held in Chen Hao’s arms.

Had she been too blatant just now, causing Chen Hao to realize something? Was that why he said what he did? Coupled with his decision to resign... Could it be that Chen Hao didn’t like her at all? Perhaps he even disliked her? Was he planning to leave so he could avoid her?

No wonder he never sought her out all these years since she left home for school. It turned out he not only didn’t like her, he actually disliked her... That must be it! That must be the reason!

She regretted playing hard to get all those years ago, deliberately staying away, hoping Chen Hao would miss her desperately. How naïve she had been! Chen Hao never harbored any feelings for her; during her absence, he was probably happier than ever!

Gu Mengyan now let her imagination run wild, inventing all sorts of scenarios that never existed. In truth, Chen Hao’s reason for resigning had nothing to do with her, as she guessed. The incident in the parking lot merely referred to their colleagues’ mocking and jeering.

As for Chen Hao’s feelings, they were nothing like Gu Mengyan’s suspicions. Not only did he not dislike her, he actually liked her very much. Otherwise, he would hardly ever refuse her requests. Moreover, one mustn’t forget that when they were children, Chen Hao always took Gu Mengyan everywhere, proudly showing off his beautiful little sister to his friends.

Indeed, this was how Chen Hao viewed their relationship—he truly regarded Gu Mengyan as his own sister, and his affection for her was of that kind. After all these years, he never entertained any romantic thoughts about Gu Mengyan; he saw their bond as siblingly love.

As for why he never sought her out during her years away from home—not even during holidays or festivals—the reason was simple and left Chen Hao helpless.

Firstly, Chen Hao and Gu Mengyan were less than a year apart in age, both in the same school cohort. When Gu Mengyan left for university, Chen Hao had his own studies to attend. Naturally, he couldn’t visit her during regular days.

And holidays or festivals? Alas, that was Chen Hao’s own tale of hardship. The reason he never visited Gu Mengyan was entirely due to his father, Chen Ding’an. Whenever Chen Hao had time off, his father assigned him endless tasks—practicing the family’s ancestral martial arts.

Yes, it sounded like a ridiculous excuse, but this was the genuine reason Chen Hao never had the opportunity to seek out Gu Mengyan. In fact, not just Chen Hao—even his mother couldn’t fathom her husband’s insistence.

In this age of rapid technological advancement, Chen Ding’an seemed like a relic, making Chen Hao learn martial arts! Was it necessary? What use could it possibly have? If it was merely for health, there was no need to practice ancient techniques.

The family’s martial arts were profoundly complex, not something one could master by sheer time alone—they required talent, insight, and a stroke of fate. Such breakthroughs didn’t happen by simply watching the scenery; only true combat—life-and-death struggles—could spark sudden progress.

So, from Chen Hao’s mother’s perspective, it was fine to learn the family arts, but not at the cost of so much time. Wouldn’t it be better to practice something modern, like kickboxing? It’s quicker, safer, and less demanding.

Yet, even though his mother protested, Chen Ding’an stubbornly insisted on teaching Chen Hao the ancestral martial arts—not at home, but in a secret location unknown even to Chen Hao’s mother.

During holidays, the two would sneak away, and every time Chen Hao returned, he looked as though he’d run a marathon in the desert, utterly exhausted and weak, much to his mother’s distress.

In such a state, how could Chen Hao possibly have the energy or inclination to visit Gu Mengyan? After graduation, when he started working, his free time shrank even more. If he continued practicing martial arts with his father, he might not even make it to work the following week.

Years of relentless training had elevated Chen Hao’s skills to a certain level. As his father put it, he had reached a significant martial arts realm. To improve further, ordinary practice was no longer enough; only frequent combat could bring breakthroughs.

Now, honestly, it was rare for Chen Hao to meet a worthy opponent. That’s not to say he was invincible, but in terms of martial arts exchanges, few could match him. Most so-called martial arts instructors couldn’t rival his understanding and mastery.

Of course, true grandmasters might still surpass him, and in a life-and-death struggle, Chen Hao would not necessarily prevail; his victories were limited to friendly exchanges, not mortal combat.

Consider, for example, elite soldiers, foreign mercenaries, or top assassins. If Chen Hao faced them, he wouldn’t stand a chance. In friendly matches, perhaps he’d have the upper hand, but in deadly fights, he would be the one to fall.

It’s a paradox—higher martial arts attainment, yet not the victor. The reason is clear: those individuals train solely to kill; they don’t bother with form or technique. Their only aim, as soon as they strike, is to kill. They’ve long since disregarded their own lives and can sacrifice themselves to take down their opponent. As the saying goes, you may not win, but you can be killed.

Another reason Chen Hao wasn’t their match was their vast experience and courage in facing death. These battle-hardened warriors had survived countless deadly encounters. Facing them felt less like fighting a human and more like combating a soulless machine.

Of course, in reality, Chen Hao would hardly ever become enemies—or even come into contact—with such people. This was one reason why Chen Ding’an eventually stopped forcing Chen Hao to continue training.

About all this, Gu Mengyan knew nothing. She simply believed Chen Hao didn’t care about her, which was why he never sought her out in all those years.

She had originally decided to seek out Chen Hao herself once she graduated and settled into a job. Unexpectedly, Chen Hao joined Virtuality Company, the same department as her—a delightful surprise, saving her the trouble and allowing her to hide her intentions.

Without knowing Chen Hao’s feelings, she wasn’t about to reveal her own—after all, girls are shy! Seeing her ideal man again, handsome as ever, Gu Mengyan suppressed her excitement and tried to act as usual. This was why Chen Hao never understood her feelings.

Until recently, Chen Hao still didn’t know Gu Mengyan liked him. Now, seeing her lost in thought because of something he said, he was puzzled.

“What’s with you? Why are you spaced out? Did you hit your head just now?” Chen Hao had long forgotten Gu Mengyan’s earlier mischief, looking at her with concern and placing his hand on her forehead.

Gu Mengyan was startled by his gesture, then stared blankly at his hand, and at his concerned expression, suddenly confused: “What’s going on? Did I misinterpret everything again? This doesn’t seem like someone who dislikes me!”

“Hey!” Chen Hao stopped the car, waving his hand before her eyes. “Hey, girl! Wake up! You didn’t really hit your head, did you? That can’t be—you landed with my hand supporting the back of your head!”

Gu Mengyan finally snapped out of it, distractedly replying, “I... I’m fine... What did you mean just now? Why did you say what happened in the parking lot made you want to resign?”

“Oh, so that’s what you were thinking about!” Chen Hao realized, sighing helplessly. “Didn’t you notice how everyone reacted when they saw us lying on the ground?”

At the mention of this, Gu Mengyan’s cheeks flushed. She remembered now—she had clung tightly to Chen Hao, burying her head in his chest. It must have been too obvious; perhaps he’d noticed?

Before she could respond, Chen Hao continued, “Honestly, I don’t mind being mocked or disliked. But when people eat and drink at my expense, then badmouth me behind my back, it’s hard to tolerate. If I stay in the company, who knows when I’ll get stabbed in the back! Besides, you may not know this—those guys have already played tricks on me more than once...”