Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Heard of Him

Los Angeles winters were usually bright and sunny, but today, it was drizzling under a sky full of gray clouds.

Boarding. Taxiing. Takeoff.

The plane climbed, pierced through the heavy clouds, and emerged above a sea of blue, carrying Ran Buyue away from the foreign land where he had lived for the past eight years.

“All the latest movies are available here! What are you planning to watch?” Tian Xiaozhe leaned over to look next door and was utterly shocked. “Wait—why are you still working?!”

The person he addressed gave no response. Head lowered, scribbling and sketching on a tablet, with long hair falling over one side of the face, only the cold line of a chin was visible.

Tian Xiaozhe was used to being ignored. He leaned in and tapped him, raising his voice: “Boss, take a break already!”

“…”

The man turned his head, revealing a thin, pale face.

He was an unforgettable young man of Eastern descent—his features stunning to the point of being unreal, with a sharp, jaded coldness. His brows were faintly furrowed, like a snake annoyed at being disturbed mid-meal.

Tian Xiaozhe clutched his heart and said dramatically, “Boss, you’ve already quit your job! You’re not a corporate mule anymore—why are you still shackling yourself like one?”

“?”

Ran Buyue lazily tucked his long hair behind his ear—revealing an earbud.

Tian Xiaozhe: “…”

“What did you say?”

Ran Buyue tilted his chin just slightly, eyes still glued to the tablet, voice light and completely perfunctory.

…So all that talking was for nothing. He hadn’t heard a word.

Tian Xiaozhe scolded in frustration: “Talking to you is like playing music to a cow!”

Not that it helped—he’d been playing music to this workaholic for over three years now, ever since becoming his assistant.

At first, Tian Xiaozhe had been terrified by Ran Buyue’s near self-destructive drive—worried the man would one day drop dead in the office. He tried everything to talk sense into him, but nothing worked.

Eventually, he gave up. All he could do was sabotage the late-night grind—when Ran wasn’t looking, he’d pour out the steaming coffee on his desk.

As exasperated as he was, Tian Xiaozhe couldn’t help but admire him. With that kind of work ethic, Ran could succeed at anything.

But Ran Buyue wasn’t just hardworking—he was brilliant. Everything he created had a rare spark. He was the type of person heaven itself insisted on feeding.

Even during university, he held multiple awards and an impressive portfolio. Before graduation, he had already received stacks of offers. At 22, he graduated from M University’s engineering department and joined a top design consultancy in Silicon Valley.

Two years later, he was headhunted by a major international firm to develop a new product line. The task was meant to take two years. Somehow, Ran led his team to deliver the full cycle—from concept to production—within one, beating out all competitors. The product launch was met with overwhelming acclaim.

His designs swept up that year’s major awards and set a new benchmark for the category—one that countless other brands rushed to imitate.

From that point on, Ran Buyue’s name—like the word “Ran” (rising) in Chinese—soared in the industry, quickly becoming one of the most talked-about rising stars in industrial design.

So when people assumed he would continue shining in Silicon Valley, he blindsided everyone by quitting.

He gave up a coveted salary, luxurious benefits, and stock options—abandoning everything he’d built overseas to return to China and start his own studio.

Many tried to talk him out of it. The company begged him to stay. After all, he was still rising fast but hadn’t yet secured a foundation. With more time and works under his belt, his reputation would’ve been solid gold. Why not wait a bit before going solo?

But Ran was not one to take advice. He quit anyway, stubborn to the core.

When asked why he made such a foolish choice, Ran would gently ask, “Why do you think you have two nostrils instead of one?”

Some shook their heads with pity. “Ran’s only twenty-six—still just a kid. Too impulsive. He’ll regret it.”

Tian Xiaozhe didn’t really get what was going on in his boss’s brain either. But he never tried to understand how a genius thinks. All he knew was—Ran wanted to return home, and he followed, eagerly and shamelessly tagging along.

“Welcome aboard. May I ask what you two would like to eat?” the flight attendant handed over the menu courteously.

Tian Xiaozhe was already starving and ordered everything he could. Then he turned to find that Ran had already returned the menu—he only asked for a vegetable salad.

“That’s all you’re eating?” Tian Xiaozhe whispered in disbelief. “Boss! This is first class! You’re not even milking the perks?! And it’s your own money!”

Without so much as adjusting his posture, Ran replied, “Not hungry.”

Tian Xiaozhe sighed helplessly.

It was one of his boss’s worst habits—not liking food.

As a self-proclaimed foodie, Tian Xiaozhe couldn’t understand how anyone could be so uninterested in eating. It was absurd.

Ran Buyue’s standards for food were insultingly low—often shoving down a few bites of greens at his desk and calling it a meal.

At first, Tian Xiaozhe thought it was due to the workload. But even on vacations, Ran showed no enthusiasm for food. He always ate with the same bland expression—never once showing the joy of savoring a good meal.

—And there it was again. That same indifferent, lazy look.

Tian Xiaozhe watched Ran slowly nibbling his salad, barely opening his mouth, chewing in tiny, slow bites—like some sluggish herbivore.

No wonder he was so thin. The clothes just hung off his frame.

Tian Xiaozhe felt a twinge of sympathy. If his parents saw what their son had become overseas, their hearts would break.

“What’s with that look?” Ran glanced at him with a frown.

Tian Xiaozhe wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, dramatically saying, “Oh, my poor son. Mother worries for you!”

Ran Buyue: “…”

But Tian Xiaozhe didn’t know the worst was yet to come.

A few hours later, turbulence hit. The cabin lights dimmed, the air felt heavy, and passengers were jostled in their seats.

Tian Xiaozhe treated it like a rollercoaster. “Times like these really make me want to write a will—wait, boss, are you okay? You’re vomiting? Airsick?!”

Ran was hunched over, pale fingers pressed to his lips, his long hair veiling half his face.

“Urgh—”

But nothing came out. His stomach was nearly empty.

“You should’ve told me earlier! I didn’t know you get airsick,” Tian Xiaozhe said, frustrated. “I would’ve brought meds.”

“Medication doesn’t help,” Ran said weakly. “It’s a chronic condition.”

“You didn’t get sick before!”

“Short flights are fine. Long ones depend on luck.”

Tian Xiaozhe nodded. He’d remember next time.

Ran always had these sudden quirks or issues—like a little monster sprouting a new horn. Even after three years, Tian Xiaozhe hadn’t figured out all his habits.

Maybe that’s just how genius artists are—unpredictable.

The chief flight attendant was drawn over by Tian’s panicked yelling. Her eyes lingered on Ran’s face for several seconds, her voice softening as if afraid to break fine porcelain: “Sir, is there anything I can help you with?”

Ran shook his head, but she still brought him warm water, helped him prepare his bed, and—under Tian’s insistence—he reluctantly laid down under the covers.

“No more tablet!”

Ran had just picked it up when Tian barked. Sighing, he set it down. “Alright, Mom.”

“Do you really need to work now?” Tian muttered, “Staring at a screen makes it worse.”

Ran sighed internally. The kid had no idea how much work it took to start a business from scratch—the paperwork, the client meetings, the site selection… everything waiting once they landed.

He had to be able to pay this assistant’s salary at least, right?

Tian declared righteously, “Once we land, you’re going straight to Mr. Hao’s birthday banquet. So rest now and get over the jet lag!”

Oh, right. That.

Mr. Hao—full name Hao Le—came from a family that owned a massive home appliance business.

Years ago, when Ran was still hustling for clients, he had completed a project for Hao. It was fast, clean, and the design was both striking and practical. That product helped Hao’s company break into the international market, and Hao had personally flown to California to thank Ran.

Hao Le had only just taken over his family’s business at the time. A year older than Ran, he had a cheerful personality that matched his name. He was probably 99% extrovert on any personality test.

Over time, the two developed a decent friendship.

Ran knew they weren’t from the same social class—at best, they had some business dealings. They weren’t close.

But Hao Le treated him like a real friend—or maybe he was just that friendly to everyone.

Now Hao was turning 27 and invited Ran, knowing he’d just returned to China. The timing was tight, so Ran initially declined. But Hao had gone, “C’mon, don’t waste the trip! You just got back—what do you need most? Clients, connections, cash, right? I’ve got everything except a shortage of money! A bunch of rich fools are looking to invest in new products—you sure you don’t wanna come window shopping?”

It sounded like a live-stream flash sale.

Ran couldn’t say no after that.

Besides, in his world, career always came first.

“Ahem, boss, I’ll read you a story,” Tian said.

Ran opened his eyes with a puzzled look.

Tian grabbed a magazine from the rack. “Just lie down and listen. Distract yourself and you won’t feel sick. You’ll doze off in no time.”

Ran: …

“Oh! This one’s Global Fortune, latest issue. Let me see what inspiring bedtime stories they’ve got…”

Tian had long gotten used to being left on read. He flipped through the pages: “Whoa! Boss, this is the issue with your interview!”

Ran had known from the magazine title and responded with a disinterested “Mm.”

That interview had been done months ago before he quit. They had sent him a complimentary copy—he hadn’t even opened it.

Too lazy. Didn’t mean much to him.

Tian, on the other hand, had read it thoroughly and raved: “Boss, that photo of you is amazing! And the quotes—so profound! How is your design process this clever?! You’re a genius…”

Ran sat up silently and grabbed the airsickness bag.

Tian froze. “Are you throwing up again?!”

Ran closed his eyes tiredly. “Your voice is making me nauseous.”

Tian laughed. “You’re just too damn brilliant—accept your fate!”

Seeing Ran’s expression darken, Tian quickly shifted gears. “Okay, okay! I won’t read your interview anymore. I’ll read someone else’s. Let’s see… how about the cover story? Whoa, this headline’s even flashier than yours: ‘How a Hundred-Billion Empire Was Forged: The Youngest Leader of the Yanchuan Group—’”

Ran’s face remained calm, but his heart suddenly pounded against his ribs.

“—Shu Zhenshan.”

Splash.

It felt like being thrown into icy water. His lungs emptied, oxygen vanished, and the suffocating pressure drowned him.

“I’ve seen his name on the news so many times over the years. Boss, he’s insane,” Tian said, summarizing Shu Zhenshan’s golden career like a robot—

Graduated from M University’s engineering department, immediately returned to China to join his father’s real estate company… Completely transformed the family business in six years… Quadrupled the market value… Now in his twenties, holds absolute power… Some people are just built different…

Ran listened silently, eyes closed, drifting down the river of memory.

Every word about Shu Zhenshan rippled past his ears—like water, close and distant, blurred and strange.

The tide had risen and fallen so many times since then. As Ran walked the banks of his dreams, he was no longer soaked by the same waves from six years ago.

Shu Zhenshan.

Ran rarely called him by his full name. Like most classmates, he called him Shu.

Close Chinese friends called him “Zhen-ge” or “Ah-Zhen,” but Ran was never part of that circle.

He only ever said “Shu Zhenshan” when he was pushed to the edge—begging him to stop, voice trembling with tears.

It never worked.

Ran eventually realized that no matter what he called him—English or Chinese, name or nickname—Shu never listened. Never slowed down. Always left Ran gasping and broken.

His name, elegant and refined, matched his polished demeanor—but Ran knew the cruelty beneath it.

Precocious. Vengeful. Ruthless. Strategic. A natural-born leader, capable of great things.

—The exact type of man Ran hated most.

The last time Ran uttered that name, it was to say:
“Shu Zhenshan, we’re done.”

Shu had been sitting on his bed, bruised and bitten, bl00d on his lips, eyes bloodshot like a man ready to snap.

It looked like they had just been through a war.

As soon as Ran said the words, Shu’s chest began to heave like he was going to explode.

Ran genuinely thought Shu might strangle him. But in the end, he just stormed out, slamming the door without even taking his shirt.

Shu Zhenshan, we’re done.

That was the last thing they ever said to each other.

—

Tian Xiaozhe pointed at the magazine, delighted. “Whoa! Turns out you two were college classmates—same department, too! He must’ve been some campus legend, huh?”

Silence.

Undeterred, Tian leaned over again. “Hey, boss, do you guys know each other?”

Ran Buyue shifted his gaze indifferently and replied:

“Oh, him?”
“I’ve heard of him.”