Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Collaboration or Sharing a Bed

When Shu Zhenshan finished his final sentence, the room erupted in applause.

Not all of it was praise—some came from his competitors, like a war drum marking the start of battle.

The intermission began, and small portions of desserts were offered. The shrewd adults, no longer like their university selves scrambling for snacks, now scrambled to network with big shots.

Among the attendees were high-level executives from major tech companies and promising unicorn founders. The dazzling future of the world was in their hands. And the most extraordinary among them was, of course, Shu Zhenshan—the one who had crossed disciplines as if he’d leapt tens of thousands of miles.

His name was already a thunderous presence in the business world, but no one had expected him to personally enter the tech field—not as an investor or acquirer, but as a player. Only now did people remember his résumé—nearly a perfect GPA from M University’s Engineering Department. His ability to explain complex concepts so clearly made perfect sense.

No one anticipated that a figure of his level would even stay for the intermission. Everyone assumed he would leave right after his talk.

Shu Zhenshan stood by a tall table in a corner, sipping tea.

At first, no one dared to approach. Then, someone finally mustered the courage to strike up a conversation. Shu Zhenshan didn’t act enthusiastic, but he didn’t show displeasure either. Soon, a small crowd formed around him.

“You’re not going to talk to President Shu?” Li Yao asked. “He’s hiring designers.”

Ran Buyue didn’t respond and simply picked up a small piece of cake.

Li Yao said with a tinge of regret, “But judging from what he said earlier, he already has someone in mind.”

Ran Buyue took a small bite of the cake and frowned slightly.

It tasted terrible.

Not far away, a young man squeezed through the crowd and enthusiastically expressed his admiration for the Yan Chuan Robotics Project. He humbly and boldly handed over his résumé. “Mr. Shu, I’m an independent industrial designer. I’ve won a few small international awards and am very eager to join your team. I hope you’ll give me a chance!”

Ran Buyue felt a sudden daze—as if he saw his younger self in the young man’s passionate eyes.

“Wow,” Li Yao commented, entertained. “Ran, do you think Shu will take his résumé?”

“He will,” Ran replied.

“Will he actually read it?”

Ran clenched his fist. “…He will.”

Just as Ran predicted, Shu Zhenshan accepted the paper with a smile and read it carefully before handing it to his assistant.

Li Yao whispered, “Nice,” and continued, “So, what do you think his chances are?”

Ran Buyue’s breathing grew heavier, like he was suppressing something. He shot back, “What do you think?”

Li Yao said, “Hmm… At the very least, he has a better chance than most—because brave people always gain more opportunities.”

Ran Buyue gave a short laugh—cold, almost mocking.

Once, Shu Zhenshan had said something like that. Then he’d shattered it with his own actions.

Back then, Ran Buyue was in a terrible state. Finding out that Shu Zhenshan was the heir to the Yan Chuan Group had been exhausting.

He had always suspected Shu Zhenshan’s background was far from ordinary, vastly different from his own. But perhaps because they had opened up to each other too early, Ran preferred to understand him through their conversations, not through the glowing rumors others spread. Which company Shu belonged to, or which wealthy family—Ran didn’t care. Or maybe, he had deliberately avoided thinking about it. He selfishly wished that Shu came from an ordinary family.

Any family business would’ve been better—just not Yan Chuan. But of all possibilities, Shu Zhenshan turned out to be the eldest son of that exact company. That was something Ran simply couldn’t accept.

During that time, he could barely look Shu Zhenshan in the eye. Yet he also knew Shu hadn’t done anything wrong. Ran didn’t want to add to his psychological burden, so he chose to handle it himself. He just needed time.

His unusual behavior didn’t escape Shu’s notice. When Ran wasn’t ready to face him like before, their relationship fell into a stalemate. Thankfully, Shu Zhenshan was understanding and didn’t press. He gave him both time and space.

Just when Ran felt like he had finally adjusted, Shu suddenly announced he was quitting the robotics club.

This happened right before the university robotics competition. The lab was brimming with energy, everyone motivated and excited. During a typical technical disagreement, they turned to their “Chairman Shu” for input as usual. He gave it, and then added, “I won’t be able to go to the competition with you. I… sincerely apologize.”

He said it as casually as deciding what to eat for dinner.

No one took him seriously at first. They mocked him for telling such a lame joke. But when Shu Zhenshan repeated himself—this time with a trace of helplessness—the lab went silent. Everyone stared at him in shock.

It took half an hour to convince them he was serious. Then the lab exploded like a pressure cooker. Everyone surrounded him, furious and shouting.

Only Ran Buyue stood dazed at the edge of the crowd. He looked the calmest, but in truth, his soul felt detached from his body. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

That night, the two of them walked home in silence. The air was tight like a bowstring, about to snap. They lived together in an apartment near campus. As soon as they opened the door, a fluffy little furball rushed out, wagging its short tail and nudging Ran with its nose before happily licking Shu.

The puppy’s joyful “woof woof” broke the tension. Ran finally smiled, bent down, scooped up the fuzzy Alaskan puppy, and rocked it in his arms. “Baby, little Sesame Baby.”

Shu smiled too, playing with it. His fingers got licked wet. Sesame blinked its shiny round eyes—first at Ran, then at Shu. The pup didn’t understand why its parents were so quiet today. It only knew they both loved it, which made it happy.

While Shu cooked dinner, Ran asked, “You’ve really decided?”

Shu replied with a soft “Mm,” turned the beef stew down to a simmer, and leaned against the island counter. “Sorry the news was sudden.”

He went on to explain that something had happened at the company—he had to return and take over.

Ran, skeptical, asked based on what he’d found online, “Isn’t your second uncle running things at Yan Chuan? Is he sick?”

Shu: “No.”

Ran: “Then why the rush?”

Shu said quietly, “Because that seat should’ve been mine.”

The Shu Zhenshan in front of him felt like a stranger. The young man’s calm eyes hid burning ambition—like a young wolf banished by its pack, now grown and ready for vengeance. The realization struck Ran with a jolt.

It was the first time he truly understood that Shu Zhenshan was the child of a business empire—someone fundamentally different from ordinary people.

Ran felt like a long, jagged crack had split the ground between them. It widened and deepened. They stood in the same place, yet were being pulled farther apart until they faced each other from opposite cliffs.

Shu stepped forward and gently pulled Ran into his arms, begging in a low voice, “Little Snake, can you wait for me?”

“Little Snake”—Shu occasionally used this nickname during intimate moments, saying Ran reminded him of a snake: beautiful, dangerous, unconsciously seductive. But in truth, a bit silly—the kind that coiled around you not to kill, but to cuddle.

Ran’s voice turned cold. “Wait for what?”

“When I’ve gathered more resources, I can build you a lab. Form a team. Not some student club—real production-level work. I need a few years.”

Ran was incredulous. “A student club? That’s all we were?”

Shu replied seriously, “Weren’t we? We were just a group of students, meeting in our spare time, playing with ‘LEGO.’ Do you really think that robotics competition had much weight? Investors wouldn’t even bother looking. Our school gave us outdated equipment. Compared to Boston or Silicon Valley’s top firms, we were leagues behind.”

Ran opened his mouth but couldn’t say anything.

What he had once thought was the peak—was, to Shu, child’s play.

Shu’s calm voice was brutally honest. “Real breakthroughs are bought with money. Without market demand or investors burning cash, how does a lab survive? Ideals aren’t enough.”

Ran gritted his teeth. “We can find investors ourselves.”

Shu laughed. “With what? That spider hand whose joints don’t even move freely?”

It felt like a slap to the face. Ran burned with humiliation.

“I didn’t mean anything bad about Little Spider,” Shu backtracked. “It’s still a baby—not mature yet. But that’s part of the process. Even raising a child costs a fortune—how much more to raise a steel one?”

Ran: “Little Spider? Your naming sense sucks.”

Shu didn’t argue. “Little Spider needs new chip sensors, wafer tech… Think of me as going off to earn its formula money.”

How much of that statement was to comfort, who knew. Formula money wasn’t so easy to earn.

In the days that followed, Ran Buyue saw less and less of Shu Zhenshan at school or at home. When he returned, only Sesame would leap up in welcome. Ran would feed and walk the dog himself, even though Shu had hired a housekeeper to handle everything during the day.

Ran Buyue didn’t complain. He wasn’t the clingy type. But even so, the reality still didn’t match his expectations.

Shu Zhenshan met with producers, directors, film investors from Hollywood. He often flew back to China to build networks—like a giant spider silently weaving his domain.

But that world was too far from the messy, mundane robotics lab.

They had once agreed to meet a professor to talk about “Little Spider.” The professor was highly respected, hard to book. Ran had scheduled the meeting a month in advance.

That night, Ran Buyue chatted with the professor while waiting for Shu. An hour passed—he never showed.

Eventually, Ran smiled apologetically and told the professor, “Let’s begin without him.”

That sentence was also meant for himself: Let’s not wait for him anymore.

They were, indeed, standing on opposite cliffs.

And now, the man who had given up on their robotics dreams appeared on stage with a new company, a polished presentation, and stole the spotlight. How dare Shu Zhenshan show his face?

Just like before, he didn’t inform Ran of anything ahead of time. Ran hadn’t had that privilege then. He certainly didn’t have it now.

So whether it was Shu entering the robotics industry, his speech at the summit, or hiring a chief designer—Ran had heard none of it. He was just another outsider.

Shu Zhenshan remained at the center of the crowd, shining like a crane among chickens.

Ran Buyue didn’t want to look at him anymore and turned to leave.

Li Yao followed him.

They wandered the venue, but Ran found it all boring.

“Nothing interesting,” Li Yao said. Then, abruptly, “Ran, got any plans tonight?”

“I have an appointment.”

“What about tomorrow?” Li Yao grinned. “I know Hong Kong well—can show you around. Boats, hiking, exhibitions—free tour guide.”

It was too obvious.

Ran Buyue smiled perfunctorily. “You’ve got quite the leisure time lately, Mr. Li Yao.”

“Well, it’s not every day you’re in Hong Kong.”

Just then, they passed by a restroom. Ran seized the chance like a lifeline. “Sorry, I need to go in. See you later?”

Li Yao acted like he didn’t get the hint and followed. “Perfect. I need to go, too.”

“…”

The restroom was luxurious—all muted marble stalls, preventing awkwardness. Unfortunately, all the stalls were empty, so there was no noise to drown out Li Yao’s voice.

Ran Zhenshan washed his hands quickly. Li Yao stood beside him. The dim lighting made things worse. Sure enough, he opened his mouth.

“Just trying to relax. Ran, won’t you indulge me?”

From the mirror, Ran saw that Li Yao’s perfectly buttoned shirt had somehow come undone by two buttons, a chain resting between defined pecs.

“…”

Ran shifted his gaze to Li Yao’s face. Through the mirror, he raised an eyebrow. “Just relaxing, huh?”

Li Yao laughed. “Must you make me spell it out? You’re quite the tease…”

“But I like bad boys.”

The cards were now on the table.

Ran pulled a paper towel and slowly dried each finger. “Mr. Li, earlier you said there was a possibility we could work together—does that still stand?”

“Of course. I have lots of projects.” Li Yao’s voice dipped into something sultry. “One doesn’t affect the other. We meet in the office by day, meet at home by night. Isn’t that ideal?”

Ran said, “What a pity. I don’t sleep with people I work with.”

Li Yao was unfazed. “I’m not like those other guys. I know how to keep things separate. No awkwardness. No entanglement.”

Ran shook his head. “Sorry. That’s a hard line for me.”

Li Yao narrowed his eyes. “So you’re forcing me to choose?”

Sleep with him—or retain a chance to collaborate.

Ran Buyue made a “be my guest” gesture.

“You’re really…” Li Yao didn’t finish. His phone rang, and after a few words, his face changed.

“I’ll be right there,” he said seriously. He silently mouthed sorry to Ran Buyue before striding out.

The heavy door closed.

Ran Buyue exhaled long, twisted the faucet, and leaned down to splash water on his face.

When he looked up—his reflection showed a tall figure standing silently beside him.

It was Shu Zhenshan.

Ran’s heart skipped a beat. He almost couldn’t hold his expression steady.

“President Shu.” He sneered. “Eavesdropping? How rude.”

“Was discussing that kind of thing in front of the VIP room polite?”

Shu pointed to a less noticeable dark door at the end of a side marble corridor, with a metal card reader beside it.

“…”

Even the bathrooms were tiered. This world was beyond saving.

Ran asked lightly, “What conversation? Did it have anything to do with you?”

Shu didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “What did you think of my speech today?”

Ran blinked. He hadn’t expected such a direct question. He thought they’d exchange fake pleasantries, pretending to be strangers—like always.

So he didn’t pretend either. His buried emotions surged up.

His tone was full of sarcasm: “So, Shu Zhenshan, you still remember how robot mechanics work? I thought all you could do now was count money.”

Shu looked at him quietly, his gaze filled with unspeakable emotion.

“What do you want to hear from me? ‘Wow, President Shu, that was amazing, you’re incredible’? Is that it? —That’s not what you said back then, right? You said our project was worthless, no investor would care, and you walked away. You abandoned everything we built—how dare you come crawling back?!”

Ran’s voice rose with every word, emotion spinning out of control. He was nearly shouting, eyes turning red.

The always-eloquent President Shu didn’t speak for half a minute. He stepped forward, hand half-lifting, fingers trembling—as if he wanted to hug him.

Ran Buyue didn’t notice, snorted coldly. “You’re building robots and giving speeches without telling me. Didn’t you already pick a designer? Go back to work, then.”

“You don’t sleep with people you work with?” Shu asked.

Ran was stunned. He hadn’t expected that to be Shu’s first response after the scolding.

Shu stepped closer, nearly cornering him by the sink, but his tone was soft. “Have you checked your email yet?”

Ran: “?”

Shu: “Take a look.”

Ran instinctively obeyed. He pulled out his phone and saw a notification.

A new email from Yan Chuan Tech, timestamped right when Shu’s speech began.

He opened it—“Collaboration Invitation” glared back. He skimmed the content: excessively polite language. The message was clear:

Ah Ran, let’s collaborate. Please.

There was also a 30-page attachment.

Ran’s hands trembled slightly.

“Take your time going through it,” Shu said calmly. “Give it some real thought.”

Ran locked the screen with a click. “You want me to say yes?”

Shu swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. Under the lights, his features cast deep shadows—eyes, nose, cheekbones—but his voice sounded fuzzy: “Pros and cons. If you say yes, I get the best industrial designer. If you say no, then… maybe we get a second chance.”

“I told you, I don’t sleep with colleagues.”

Ran leaned back against the sink, hopped onto the clean marble counter. His legs swung playfully, like a mischievous little brat.

“What if I ask not as a colleague?”

Shu finally closed the distance, standing between Ran’s parted legs. His strong arms braced against the counter on either side of Ran’s thighs.

They fit together like a Lu Ban lock—intimately entwined, yet not quite touching. Boundaries perfectly drawn.

“What other identity do you have?” Ran tilted his head.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Shu said with the audacity of a king. “Do exes get a fast pass?”

His lips nearly brushed Ran’s ear, voice low and flirtatious, every word crashing against his eardrum.

“I guarantee I’ll make you feel better than that man who can’t even button his shirt properly.”