Chapter 116 Day 7 of Transmigrating into a Vintage CEO Novel

Chapter 116: The Seventh Day of Being Thrown into an Old-School CEO Novel

That day, the Gu family held a formal dinner.

It was a rule Old Master Gu set: all core family members must attend unless they had extremely important business.

As a foster son in name only, An Yi was also required to be present.

The long dining table was covered with a spotless white cloth, and the silverware gleamed. Gu Chengzai sat at the head of the table, with Gu Chengsi and his wife, Gu Xinghui, seated in order.

Gu Mingzhi sat to Old Master Gu’s right, facing Gu Chengsi.

An Yi was seated beside Gu Mingzhi, eating quietly, his posture graceful and movements refined.

Gu Mingzhi looked back at him more than once.

The conversation at the table revolved around company matters.

Gu Chengsi tried hard to show off in front of his father and younger brother, but Gu Mingzhi would casually offer a few comments, his tone calm, making Gu Chengsi’s face go pale one moment and red the next.

Gu Xinghui looked distracted, checking his phone every now and then as if waiting for a text from someone.

An Yi glanced at Gu Chengsi’s expression and understood that the man beside him was deliberately trying to make his older brother look bad.

Watching this family’s scheming from top to bottom was quite entertaining for An Yi—it felt like a TV drama playing out before him.

“Xinghui has just taken on a new project. Mingzhi, keep an eye on it,” Gu Chengzai said, setting down his soup spoon and broaching an old topic. “Young people can be impulsive. If you’re watching over him, I’ll feel more at ease.”

Gu Mingzhi wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Dad, Xinghui has his own ideas. Letting him take charge might not be a bad thing. If I’m breathing down his neck and giving orders, it might stifle his potential.”

The implication was clear: he had no interest in playing babysitter for his nephew.

Gu Xinghui looked up at Gu Mingzhi with a complex expression, as if relieved but also a little resentful.

Zhao Manyin quickly stepped in with a smile. “Mingzhi is right. Xinghui does need more hands-on experience. But having you oversee things would give us all peace of mind.”

She then changed the subject, pretending to notice An Yi for the first time, and said with a smile to Gu Chengzai: “Dad, look at Xiao Yi—always so quiet. Painting helps you settle your mind. Unlike Xinghui, who’s always busy with work.”

An Yi: ...

Why drag him into this? Was she using him to highlight Gu Xinghui?

He was just a foster son, one with no ambitions—no need for this.

He wasn’t even annoyed; in fact, he found it a bit amusing.

An Yi paused for a moment, his knife and fork in hand, then resumed, lifting his head with a gentle smile before continuing to cut the steak on his plate.

But a gaze that couldn't be ignored fell upon him.

It was Gu Mingzhi.

He leaned sideways, through the gap between chairs, his eyes cutting through the flickering candlelight and elegant tableware, landing squarely on An Yi.

An Yi could feel that gaze—could feel it lingering on his lowered lashes, his calm profile, and his well-defined fingers holding the utensils.

Was this eye-based sexual harassment?

“Being quiet isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” Suddenly, Gu Mingzhi’s low voice broke the brief silence at the table.

He was responding to Zhao Manyin’s words, but his eyes remained fixed on An Yi. “Loudness often indicates insecurity and shallowness. Being able to calm down and focus on one thing, and do it well, requires focus and wisdom.”

A hush fell over the table.

Zhao Manyin’s smile froze, and Gu Chengsi’s face darkened. Gu Mingzhi’s words seemed to be about An Yi, but they also carried a veiled implication.

Gu Xinghui was surprised too, looking at his uncle, unable to understand why he would suddenly defend An Yi.

Even Gu Chengzai lifted his eyes, casting a knowing glance at his youngest son, then at An Yi, who sat quietly at the end.

An Yi finally looked up and met Gu Mingzhi’s gaze. “Is that so?”

Gu Mingzhi watched those beautiful eyes, that flawless mask of gentleness, and a faint hint of amusement—barely perceptible to anyone else—flickered in his own eyes.

He seemed to catch a glimpse of the hidden edges beneath that gentle surface.

“Isn’t it?” Gu Mingzhi smiled faintly, finally looking away as if he had merely spoken casually.

After dinner, the family left the dining room.

An Yi intentionally slowed down, staying behind to avoid walking with anyone.

When he reached the corridor connecting the main house and the annex, he found Gu Mingzhi there, leaning against a pillar, as if waiting for him.

Only a couple of wall lamps were on in the hallway, casting dim light and stretching his shadow out long.

He had taken off his suit jacket and now wore only a white shirt and dark trousers, his tie was a little loose—looking less imposing and more casual than during the day.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up and spotted An Yi.

An Yi kept walking, ignoring him.

But just as he was about to pass by, Gu Mingzhi spoke, his voice low but clear enough for him to hear: “Did you finish your painting?”

An Yi stopped and turned his head. “Not yet. Are you interested in oil painting, Uncle?”

“I’m interested in anything interesting.” Gu Mingzhi straightened up and walked toward him.

The distance between them closed to less than a meter. The faint, cool woody scent again filled An Yi’s senses.

Interesting again.

An Yi reached out and pushed him back half a step, maintaining a safe distance.

Gu Mingzhi: ...

Pushing him?

An Yi: “Don’t get so close to me.”

Gu Mingzhi’s gaze settled on his face; the dim light made his eyes seem deeper and harder to read. “Have I offended you again?”

“Yes,” An Yi said with a smile. “You offended me.”

Gu Mingzhi stepped back two paces. “So, should I apologize?”

He paused, then simply said, “Actually, I have a question.”

"What kind of person are you?"

"One who claims to be offended but can perfectly conceal all emotions at the dinner table?"

He rubbed his fingers. "I don't believe you didn't catch what Zhao Manyin meant just now."

An Yi lowered his eyelashes, his tone still gentle but slightly distant. "I just don't talk much at the dinner table."

"Not used to talking much..." Gu Mingzhi stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Or just used to hiding things?"

An Yi lifted his eyes and looked straight at him.

Under the dim light, his eyes were startlingly bright. "Hide? No one here can make me hide."

"There is someone." Gu Mingzhi's gaze was sharp as a knife, as if peeling back his gentle disguise. "That day in the studio, when you said 'disgusting,' your eyes were completely different."

He really did remember, and he was holding a grudge.

But that was different.

An Yi suddenly smiled. The smile looked somewhat hazy under the dim light, but inexplicably carried a sting. "Then, Uncle, do you want me to show you a disgusted expression, or this polite and distant one?"

He paused, then added, "After all, I can't have a third expression for you besides 'polite' and 'disgusted.' Right?"

These words were sharp and carried an obvious provocation.

Gu Mingzhi wasn't angry. Instead, a faint, almost excited glint flickered in his eyes.