Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Long-Term Bed Partner (Part Two)

By the time the two actually planned to go to sleep, two hours had already passed.

Ran Buyue was absolutely exhausted. He climbed into bed like a walking corpse, flailing his limbs, and collapsed into a deep sleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Don’t sleep yet! A Ran, your hair is still wet.” Shu Zhenshan, barefoot, called out loudly from the bathroom.

When he came over, Ran Buyue was already fast asleep. No matter how much he called, there was no response. Shu Zhenshan sighed and shook his head, his expression tinged with helplessness.

This kid was still the same as before—eight times out of ten he’d pass out immediately after they finished. Knowing full well that Shu Zhenshan didn’t handle teasing well, he still insisted on flirting clumsily and provocatively. Every time ended in a messy disaster.

Shu Zhenshan pulled a hairdryer to the bedside and began drying Ran Buyue’s hair.

Long black hair fanned out on the pillow. Shu Zhenshan gently combed through the strands, letting the warm air blow evenly, his movements practiced and skillful.

The buzzing of the dryer filled the room. Ran Buyue only furrowed his brow slightly and turned over, sleeping even more soundly.

Amid the noise, Shu Zhenshan softly called, “Little Snake.”

—It was a nickname he hadn’t dared to say aloud earlier, a name that no longer belonged to them.

Naturally, there was no response.

Once the hair was completely dry, Shu Zhenshan turned off the dryer. The room instantly fell silent.

He tidied everything up and left only a small, dim bedside lamp on. In its soft glow, he quietly sat beside Ran Buyue, gazing down at his sleeping face.

He brushed aside the stray hair near Ran Buyue’s cheek. For a moment, he wanted to lean in and kiss him, but clenched and unclenched his fists—ultimately resisting the urge.

Shu Zhenshan sat there silently for a long time before finally moving.

He slowly lifted the thin blanket covering Ran Buyue, like a gloomy child secretly unwrapping a gift that didn’t belong to him.

Ran Buyue was loosely wrapped in a bathrobe, its sash barely tied. The robe half-covered his pale body, revealing scattered red marks like a concealed painting beneath the folds.

Shu Zhenshan sat at the edge of the bed, serious and solemn, and calmly untied the bathrobe sash. His hands moved with the precision of a scientist performing an experiment—meticulous and emotionless.

He stripped Ran Buyue from the robe, like shedding a snake’s skin, or unveiling a world-class painting.

The beauty lay exposed. Shu Zhenshan placed his warm hand against the skin, starting at the neck and moving slowly downward.

Collarbone, upper arms, forearms, chest, abdomen, waist, thighs, calves, toes—then back up again. He stroked him repeatedly, as if caressing a piece of fine jade or kneading soft, white dough.

Shu Zhenshan’s hands were warm. In his sleep, Ran Buyue let out a few soft whimpers, likely feeling comfortable. But each time he whimpered, Shu Zhenshan’s touches became rougher, causing Ran Buyue to furrow his brow, though he never woke.

Throughout it all, Shu Zhenshan’s face remained expressionless, cold and detached—like a doctor performing a routine examination, devoid of any lust.

But if one looked closely, they would see the subtle tremble of his pupils and the labored breathing that betrayed his desire.

Like a man who had thirsted for ages finally tasting water. Like an addict finally getting his fix.

And this remedy was stolen—he couldn’t take it openly.

Earlier on the bed, Shu Zhenshan had barked all kinds of crude commands—“Arch your back,” “Spread wider,” “Relax,” “Louder”—but never once did he say, “Hold me.”

From beginning to end, they played the roles of bed partners perfectly—nothing more, nothing less.

There were no kisses. No embraces.

After Ran Buyue had fallen into deep sleep, Shu Zhenshan finally climbed into bed, gently wrapping his arms around him from behind.

He found Ran Buyue’s slender wrist and slowly threaded his fingers through his, interlocking them tightly.

Then, Shu Zhenshan rubbed his cheek against the back of Ran Buyue’s hand, and turned his face to place a tender kiss on it.

He didn’t dare wish for reconciliation. Just pretending was enough.

At least now Ran Buyue would still talk to him, would still taunt and provoke him, instead of ignoring him coldly and shutting him out like before.

Shu Zhenshan remembered—ever since Ran Buyue found out he was the eldest son of the conglomerate, his behavior had changed.

In the countless times Shu Zhenshan had looked back and reflected, he replayed those unhappy memories over and over, like a detective of the past, trying to find more clues.

When he first met Ran Buyue, the boy had been withdrawn. But with Shu Zhenshan and their friends’ persistent efforts, Ran Buyue slowly opened up, like a cautious little snake peeking its head out of a burrow to bask in a sliver of sunlight.

He started attending parties, went bar-hopping after finals, helped plan road trips—always taking charge of the playlist.

Then, all of a sudden, Ran Buyue withdrew again. Aside from studying and lab work, he refused all social invitations.

It was Shu Zhenshan’s first time in a relationship. He didn’t know how to coax someone, so he tried everything—lowered his pride for the first time ever just to make Ran Buyue smile.

He hid flowers and snacks in his backpack; hunted down a signed sketch from a designer Ran Buyue liked; even played violin on Ran Buyue’s route to class and chased after him saying, “Sir! You’re today’s lucky audience—pick a song!”

But none of it worked. Ran Buyue didn’t seem touched—just colder than before.

He left the snacks untouched. Returned the designer sketch. And when Shu Zhenshan, the dazzling violinist, confessed in public, Ran Buyue sped up and walked away as if they were strangers.

Under the watchful eyes of amused classmates, Shu Zhenshan chased after him and finally cornered him in a quiet spot, asking anxiously, “What’s bothering you?”

Ran Buyue replied with a pained expression, “Shu Zhenshan, can you not do this? I don’t like this. I don’t want to explain.”

No matter how selfless one is, when all they get in return is cold shoulders, they’ll eventually feel drained.

A little tantrum could be cute—but constant emotional distance? It just becomes tiring.

Shu Zhenshan held his temper and said, “You’re upset, so I want to cheer you up. But if you won’t tell me what’s wrong, how can I help?”

Ran Buyue immediately responded, “I don’t need your help. You can’t help me.”

Shu Zhenshan frowned. “How do you know if you won’t let me try?”

Ran Buyue snapped back, “You just can’t!”

Shu Zhenshan said earnestly, “Since I was born, there’s never been a problem I couldn’t solve. I have the means, I have the money—I can help you with everything I’ve got.”

Ran Buyue let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Young master, you’re way too arrogant.”

In the end, one wanted to help, and the other refused to be helped. It was a deadlock. Arguments only went in circles.

During that tense period, their labmate Colin excitedly announced his parents had bought him an Agera RS for his 20th birthday and invited everyone for a drive.

Usually a typical nerd in sweatshirts and sneakers, with messy golden-brown hair and square glasses, Colin only reminded people at times like this that his parents owned mining businesses across multiple continents.

Everyone joked about the car only seating two. Colin laughed and said, “You guys can bring your own cars—we’ll swap!”

Shu Zhenshan asked Ran Buyue if he wanted to come. Ran Buyue instantly refused.

“You don’t have to drive—just ride shotgun,” Shu Zhenshan offered.

Ran Buyue asked, “Do you even have a car?”

Shu Zhenshan nodded. “Yeah.”

“A sports car too?”

Another nod.

“How many?” Ran Buyue’s tone turned cold.

Shu Zhenshan mentally counted. “Two in Boston…”

Ran Buyue pressed on, “And back home?”

Shu Zhenshan frowned. “…I don’t really remember.”

It wasn’t that there were so many—it was just that he rarely went home, and often his uncles or family friends gave him cars as gifts.

Ran Buyue had never cared about his wealth before. When Shu Zhenshan asked why he suddenly brought it up, Ran Buyue just stared into the distance without answering.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Shu Zhenshan finally lost it.

He felt like he was trapped in a glass bottle—watching Ran Buyue suffer from the outside but helpless to intervene.

Eventually, Shu Zhenshan couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered Ran Buyue by a vending machine.

He thought, This is it. My final attempt. If he won’t tell me now, then let that rift stay between us forever.

Fortunately, this time Ran Buyue didn’t stay silent. He quietly asked for more time—to think things through and explain when he was ready.

That softened Shu Zhenshan. Even the closest people have secrets they’re not ready to share. He shouldn’t have pushed so hard.

Ran Buyue was like a clam—tight shut, even if it meant shattering himself to pieces.

Shu Zhenshan didn’t want to be the hammer. He wanted to be the sea.

He vaguely sensed that the wealth gap made Ran Buyue uncomfortable—that he was the one pulling away. Shu Zhenshan wanted to show that they weren’t from separate worlds. As long as they loved each other, anything could be solved.

But words weren’t enough—he had to prove it.

So, he made a plan.

He would start a company with just the two of them. Even if it was small, they could bring in the latest tech, consult top professors, and create their own playground to explore ideas. Who knows? They might even invent a market-changing product.

For Shu Zhenshan, entrepreneurship wasn’t difficult. Many of his peers already ran their own companies or managed family businesses.

What he lacked was startup capital.

Robotics research wasn’t cheap—hardware, machinery, chips, materials—it all burned money faster than luxury cars.

He had some savings but rarely got large allowances from his family. Despite being sent abroad alone in elementary school, getting bullied, and struggling alone, he never once asked for help.

But now, he didn’t have the time to build slowly—he needed strength quickly.

He knew how to stand on the shoulders of giants. Not using his family’s resources would be foolish.

So for the first time, Shu Zhenshan asked his family for investment.

He approached his second uncle—the actual controller of the Yan Chuan Group, and the one he was closest to—to discuss the business plan.

His uncle, halfway around the world, praised his vision and said he’d send a professional team to Boston to discuss it in person.

Shu Zhenshan got busy, but he didn’t tell Ran Buyue just yet. It was still too early.