Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Soul Ascension

How did things end up like this?

Ran Buyue sat at the controls of the jet ski, with Shu Zhenshan straddling the seat behind him, the two separated by an awkwardly large gap.

Second Young Master Zheng pointed at them and laughed wildly: “The land between you two could sell for a billion!”

Hao Le kept shooting him warning looks, trying to say, Don’t make it worse—they’ve got history!

Second Young Master Zheng, catching on, immediately fanned the flames: “Perfect time for a ride—settle your scores out at sea.” Just loving the chaos.

Then he gave them a cool “Enjoy” and rode off with a beauty in his arms.

The other jet skis took off in rapid succession. The young masters, like ducks freed from a pen, dashed across the waves and were quickly out of sight, leaving only the roar of engines behind.

Hao Le, still somewhat human, looked back with worry and cautioned, “You two—don’t do anything crazy!”

Then he was gone too.

Only Shu Zhenshan and Ran Buyue remained on the dock.

Amid the crashing waves, neither said a word.

This was their first time alone since reuniting.

Ran Buyue stared at his fingers resting on the throttle—his fingertips trembled slightly, beyond his control.

Shu Zhenshan took a deep breath in, exhaled silently. The knuckles gripping the seat were white with tension.

The silence hung thick between them—until both opened their mouths at once, trying to sound composed.

Ran Buyue: “Shu Zong, there’s an empty jet ski over there.”

Shu Zhenshan: “Ran Xiansheng, when shall we depart?”

Both stopped talking at the same time.

Three seconds later, Shu Zhenshan said, “Didn’t catch that,” then coolly asked, “You don’t know how to drive one, do you?”

Before Ran Buyue could answer, a pair of gloved hands reached from behind, efficiently starting the engine. A finger squeezed the throttle, and the jet ski roared to life and surged forward.

Ran Buyue was caught off guard, thrown backward into Shu Zhenshan’s chest as the wind howled past, drowning out even his heartbeat.

“You lunatic!” Ran Buyue shouted.

A faint chuckle came from behind.

After the initial acceleration, the two automatically leaned away again, but with limited space on the moving ski, they couldn’t stay too far apart.

Shu Zhenshan said, “Now it’s only worth half a billion.”

“What?” Ran Buyue yelled through the wind.

“Nothing,” Shu Zhenshan replied.

Ahead, the young masters were showing off their tricks—racing, tailing each other’s wakes. But their ski was lagging behind, gliding steadily at a modest speed.

Ran Buyue asked politely, “Shu Zong, could we speed up a bit?”

“No,” Shu Zhenshan replied flatly. “It gets bumpy at higher speeds.”

As if he didn’t know how easily Ran Buyue gets seasick, airsick, carsick—basically motion sick.

Ran Buyue tried to be patient, but eventually elbowed Shu Zhenshan. “Let me drive.”

Shu Zhenshan ignored him.

“Mr. Shu Zong,” Ran Buyue said, voice calm, “if I recall correctly, I drew your card.”

The jet ski gradually slowed to a stop, floating idly on the waves.

“Right,” Shu Zhenshan said, releasing the controls. Then, with exaggerated politeness, “Shall I hold your waist and scream like the others?”

Ran Buyue didn’t bother replying. He simply grabbed the throttle and twisted it to max.

Shu Zhenshan nearly flew off.

This wasn’t just any ski—it had a Lamborghini engine, could go from 0 to 100 km/h in under three seconds. A true supercar of the sea.

He hadn’t expected Ran Buyue to be this ruthless. The young designer showed no concern for his safety. Shu Zhenshan was forced into a flying plank at the front, with a ghostly figure dragging him from behind.

Ran Buyue spun the ski 180 degrees and tore toward the open sea.

For a second, Shu Zhenshan genuinely wondered if Ran Buyue planned to toss him into international waters. And honestly? He wouldn’t mind.

“Still alive back there?” Ran Buyue shouted over his shoulder.

“Barely,” Shu Zhenshan replied.

Trying to maintain distance and not get flung off was physically taxing—Shu Zhenshan was gripping the seat so hard it almost snapped.

“Hold on, I’m going to drift!” Ran Buyue warned.

“Where should I hold?” Shu Zhenshan asked with a suicidal calm.

Ran Buyue didn’t answer—probably couldn’t hear.

“Can I hold your waist, Mr. Ran?” Shu Zhenshan clarified. “Otherwise I really might go flying.”

No reply. The ski launched off a wave crest, leaping into the air before crashing down with a giant splash.

Two strong arms suddenly wrapped around Ran Buyue’s waist, hands respectfully gripping the life vest.

Now the land between them was worth maybe ten million.

He’s so thin, Shu Zhenshan thought.

The ski tilted into a perfect drift, adrenaline surging. Their speed and proximity pressed them close together. Ran Buyue’s long hair whipped Shu Zhenshan’s face with every turn—left, right, up, down, like a thousand tiny lashes.

Shu Zhenshan stayed still, expression unreadable behind his sunglasses.

Before the next burst of speed, he subtly leaned forward.

Hair fluttered against his face. Shu Zhenshan took a quiet breath.

Smells good.

He remembered the times Ran Buyue had ridden him—arched back, elegant spine, hair falling forward, brushing his chest and face like this. It had tickled. The scent was like a mist, slowly engulfing him.

Ran Buyue usually didn’t last long—he’d tire quickly, and Shu Zhenshan would take over, carrying out the rest of the… physical workload.

The ski gradually slowed and came to a stop in the open sea. Silence returned.

Ran Buyue let go of the controls and exhaled in relief.

“Had fun?” Shu Zhenshan asked.

Judging by his expression, Ran Buyue had clearly enjoyed cutting loose after the suffocating yacht party.

He shrugged. “It was okay.”

“Why stop then?”

“I’m tired.” This time, he was honest, shaking out his numb hands.

Shu Zhenshan’s lips curved slightly. Just like before.

Conversation over, the silence returned.

Only endless sea surrounded them now, making the quiet feel even heavier.

Shu Zhenshan pushed up his sunglasses and gazed out at the horizon. He finally broke the silence. “Are you working on a project with Li Yao?”

Ran Buyue nearly laughed. “Shu Zong, is that how you ask a question?”

“Why not? You talked about it on the yacht. Everyone heard. Public info.”

“Oh.” Ran Buyue nodded. “Then go ahead and ask. I won’t answer.”

In truth, there was no need to ask—Shu Zhenshan had discreetly found out they were discussing work that morning, and that they came to the Moshi Bay Club that afternoon. Otherwise, Shu wouldn’t have shown up.

“Li Yao’s company is in a price war with a competitor. He’s got a major cashflow issue, and his new product’s under huge pressure. I don’t know what promises he made to you, but you should know—he might not be able to deliver.”

His tone was serious—as if they were in a boardroom, not adrift at sea.

Ran Buyue turned his head and looked at him quietly.

“…Why’s your neck and face red?” he asked.

Shu Zhenshan touched his skin and finally felt the sting. It itched—courtesy of his ex’s whipping hair.

“Sunburn,” he lied casually.

“You’re already tan enough. Don’t you use sunscreen?” Ran Buyue sniped, before circling back to the topic. “So, Shu Zong, why are you telling me this?”

He wasn’t sure what kind of answer he wanted. Maybe, deep down, he still hoped Shu Zhenshan cared. That this was a gesture of concern.

“…No reason.” Shu Zhenshan went cold again. “Heard your conversation. You’re a fellow countryman and alumnus, so I thought I’d mention it. Up to you whether you listen.”

Countryman. Alumnus.

Wow. That’s rich.

“How generous of you,” Ran Buyue said with a smile. “To offer such thoughtful advice to someone you’ve known for just a few weeks. I’m honored.”

Now Shu Zhenshan’s face turned cold too. He couldn’t argue—he was the one who’d first said they didn’t know each other. Now it came back to choke him.

Ran Buyue continued, “I’ll be doing business on Shu Zong’s turf from now on. If I offend in any way, I hope you’ll advise me.”

It sounded so humble—but the more he lowered his posture, the sharper the sarcasm.

Shu Zhenshan asked coldly, “Isn’t it a bit late for if?”

Ran Buyue hadn’t expected he’d already offended him. Was it because he stepped on the jet ski with his left foot first?

“Please do instruct me.”

“You seem to have forgotten, Ran Zongjian—you still owe me a tuxedo.”

Ran Buyue smiled. “If I recall, you said you’d send the invoice to Yanchuan”.