Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: E-1027

After finishing yet another round of notes, Shu Zhenshan stared blankly at the name Ran Buyue on the contract. His thoughts, which he had been forcing away from dark corners, veered uncontrollably right back into them.

It was already past 3 a.m. Had Ran Buyue and his little model finished?

The young model was slightly shorter than Shu Zhenshan, but made up for it with youth, well-trained muscles, and a blank-slate innocence—so pure he even confessed his lack of experience.

Judging from what he saw, Ran Buyue seemed to like that type. Flirting as he leaned in close, saying, “I’ll teach you.” The boy, all wide eyes and sincerity, even promised earnestly, I’ll try really hard tonight.

Shu Zhenshan knew better than anyone: Ran Buyue couldn’t handle much. He was delicate, easily exhausted, and if pushed too hard, would spiral into stress responses.

Would Ran Buyue really teach him? How? That clueless, eager pup was in the prime of his energy. What if he got carried away, like some untrained stray barreling ahead with zero technique? Ran Buyue would definitely be in pain…

Boom! A dull, heavy sound exploded.

Shu Zhenshan calmly and slowly pulled his fist back from the nightstand. The custom-made Italian wood now had a gaping hole smashed through it.

He’d long accepted the fact that Ran Buyue would date others. It was perfectly normal to move on after a breakup. But knowing was one thing—seeing it for yourself was another entirely.

Darkly, he thought, he should’ve just pretended to be Kelvin. At least fake-Kelvin could’ve given Ran Buyuebetter service.

After all, no matter how they argued, how cold they were to each other, they’d always been perfect in bed.

In the beginning, their fights always revolved around robotics.

Teamwork naturally led to conflict and differing opinions, but Shu Zhenshan and Ran Buyue argued more than most. Probably because whenever one of them proposed a theory, the other would immediately understand it—either they’d be thrilled in agreement or at odds in sharp opposition. In the latter case, sparks would fly fast and furious. Diagrams and equations would fill whiteboards within minutes, and their teammates would have to observe in silence for five minutes just to follow their blazing-fast logic.

When others were around in the lab, the chaos would quickly engulf the team. Everyone would jump in, debate, get heated, reach a consensus. But when only the two of them remained…

That was a different story.

Shu Zhenshan couldn’t even recall what they had argued about that time. Something about whether their exoskeleton should use compact flexible batteries or denser lithium ones. It sounded like a simple trade-off, but would lead to drastically different overall designs.

Ran Buyue, expression serious, wrote formulas furiously across the whiteboard, outlining his logic clearly. Shu Zhenshan folded his arms and watched. When Ran Buyue reached a certain point, Shu Zhenshan’s brows furrowed sharply. He stepped in, uncapping a marker, and boxed out a critical flaw in the math, challenging it head-on.

They sparred with markers like swords—intense, fast, each rebuttal sharpening the next. The whiteboard became a battlefield, packed with layers of scribbles like a Splatoon war zone. They were soon shoulder to shoulder, squeezed into a shrinking space, arms and skin brushing—both burning hot.

That brush of skin was the spark. Shu Zhenshan suddenly realized what was happening, every nerve ending igniting like a fuse.

Back then, it hadn’t been long since they first slept together. He still thought of it as their “honeymoon phase.” The tiniest spark could trigger an inferno.

His brain, normally razor-sharp, short-circuited. All those equations and numbers evaporated. All he could see was Ran’s fingers gripping the marker, the way his lips moved, and that messy ponytail tied at the back of his head.

Shu Zhenshan suspected he had a thing for intellectual types—Ran Buyue was dangerously sexy when he was eloquent and sharp. But when Ran Buyue looked up, he realized  maybe he was just a face guy.

I’ve calculated it. See for yourself. Using fiber-based flexible batteries saves at least 35% of the spa— Ran Buyue was abruptly cut off by a kiss.

The tips of his ears flushed red. He froze for a few seconds before finally pushing Shu Zhenshan away, accusing seriously, Shu Zhenshan, I think you just violated protocol. You interrupted my turn.

Shu Zhenshan replied, I didn’t. I just wanted to earn my speaking time… legally. Then he immediately launched into a list of counterpoints.

Ran Buyue’s face darkened.

And so, Ran retaliated—with a kiss even fiercer than the last.

Neither of them could remember how they got back to the dorm. The moment they stepped inside, the clothes came off mid-step. By the time they fell into bed, nothing was left on them.

Maybe it was the unresolved battery argument. They were both holding in so much tension. Neither would give in. Ran Buyue bit Shu Zhenshan on the shoulder—hard—with those sharp canines of his. A viper’s bite, embedded deep. Shu gritted through it without a sound.

One strong move provoked another. It wasn’t lovemaking. It was a brawl.

They soaked half the bed. Left each other marked head to toe. The next day, the lab folks were shocked. Their two most diligent Chinese teammates both showed up late—and wrapped in suspicious amounts of clothing.

When teased about being sick, both pointed to the whiteboard and said in perfect sync, “Citizens, help us judge—whose battery plan is more viable?”

Incidents like that happened often. When they couldn’t win through debate, they’d try to conquer each other in bed. But even there, neither ever won. It always ended in mutual destruction and mutual bliss.

After draining themselves, they’d collapse, curled into each other, sleep in a haze until the sun was high.

Shu Zhenshan used to think this is what love tastes like—so rich, so intoxicating. Lover, rival, pet snake—all-in-one.

Until Ran Buyue’s birthday.

That was the day Shu Zhenshan realized how terribly wrong he’d been.

Even though it was his first relationship, he knew—birthdays mattered. You needed ceremony.

He began planning three months in advance. Rejected dozens of gift ideas. In the end, he went with something painfully cliché: roses, cake, and one carefully purchased gift.

He baked the cake himself. Ran Buyue hated store-bought ones for being too sweet. On the cake, he clumsily drew two little stick figures—one tall, one with long hair—holding hands.

He snuck into Ran Buyue’s room beforehand, set it all up, then waited outside his classroom with a made-up excuse to walk him home.

When Ran Buyue opened the door, he froze in shock.

“Happy birthday, little snake.”

The room was filled to the brim with roses. In the center sat a chair—chubby and round like a Michelin man. On it, the cake.

“Oh… my… god…Ran was too stunned. His eyes scanned the scene, landing on the chair. He inched forward, stunned. Bibendum chair… Is this real?

Why don’t you guess? Shu Zhenshan was basking in the reaction, sure he had just captured Ran Buyue’s heart.

The chair was a design by Irish architect Eileen Gray. Shu Zhenshan had it bid at Sotheby’s in London. Gray was Ran Buyue’s favorite designer. He had once told Shu Zhenshan about her most famous architectural work—E-1027, a seaside villa in southern France.

The name E-1027 was a code. E for Eileen, 10 and 2 for J and B—Jean Badovici, her lover. And 7 for G—Gray. It was as if her name encircled his.

With a bit of hidden intent, Shu Zhenshan picked a piece from that designer. He couldn’t pretend he had no ulterior motives.

Ran Buyue was still reeling. Shu Zhenshan, do you know how much Eileen’s works have sold for? One table from E-1027 went for over twenty-five million… U.S. dollars.

Shu Zhenshan looked a little sheepish. I can’t afford a personally used piece… I got a production prototype batch from 1928.

Even that belongs in a museum… wait, that’s not what I meant. Ran Buyue floated toward the chair like a ghost, then saw the cake sitting directly on top. His back stiffened.

Only then did Shu Zhenshan sense something was off.

Ran Buyue looked terrified.

He raised his head, beautiful face full of confusion: “Um, thanks, but… uh, in America, do you guys do this kind of thing for… hookups?”

Shu Zhenshan: “………………”

In that house full of roses, something shattered—petal by petal.

The silence stretched on for ten whole minutes.

But after that, they finally had an honest talk. Cleared the misunderstanding. Made it official: they were together.

Ran Buyue even gave a gift in return. Of all the things Shu Zhenshan had ever received, it was his favorite.

And now, the one that hurts the most.

At twenty-nine years old, leaning back into the night sky outside his office window, Shu Zhenshan looked back and asked himself. Would things have been better if they had never become lovers?

They could’ve had guilt-free s3x. Satisfied each other’s needs with no obligations. Grown separately, freely. Walked away cleanly when life diverged, even laughed and wished each other well. Not like this.

Not stuck in this limbo, where even the lines between love and pain had blurred. Where they couldn’t even act like strangers convincingly.

Ran Buyue was always a little wild, always a little dreamy. He should’ve spent his life chasing passion, becoming a legendary designer, tasting all the pleasures of the world.

He could date anyone.

But he would never build an E-1027 with someone.

Shu Zhenshan, six years later, had a clearer view of himself. He didn’t love Ran Buyue anymore. Didn’t need his love either.

If all Ran Buyue wanted was a bedmate, then fine—Shu Zhenshan would be the best one.

He gently placed the thick contract atop the shattered nightstand.

If not love, then at least the partnership would succeed.

After all, the first draft of this contract had been written three years ago.

And seven years ago, they’d already shared a bed.

Shu Zhenshan, by all rights, had the advantage.