Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 24

Chapter 24: This Is the End

Shu Zhenshan looked at Ran Buyue, who was gradually being obscured from view, lips pressed tightly together.

On the table, the housing contract and cooperation agreement with ROAM were laid out side by side. Despite the owner’s careful handling, there were still faint traces of being flipped through repeatedly.

Two contracts, a total of 23 signatures, Shu Zhenshan had unintentionally counted them all.

A month and a half ago, after the team meeting ended, Ran Buyue and Tian Xiaozhe had prepared to leave the conference room directly without showing any intention of signing the contract then and there.

Shu Zhenshan subtly blocked his path and asked in a low voice, “How long do you think you’ll need to consider it?”

Ran Buyue countered, “When will President Shu finish talking with the other alternative teams?”

Shu Zhenshan was silent for a moment before replying, “Director Ran, that doesn’t really concern you, does it?”

Ran Buyue nodded with a smile. “Exactly. So whether or not I agree, and when I agree, doesn’t concern you either.”

It seemed he had only come to indulge in a verbal sparring match. Once he had clarified the detailed direction of the product, he intended to leave without looking back.

Suddenly, Shu Zhenshan was gripped by a familiar sense of emptiness—as if he couldn’t grasp or keep hold of anything.

“President Shu, I’ll contact you later,” Ran Buyue said, picking up his materials and heading out.

“Wait,” Shu Zhenshan blurted out.

The moment the words left his mouth, his heart sank. He feared Ran Buyue wouldn’t turn back, wouldn’t wait. He didn’t know if this time, like before, he would end up waiting in vain.

Fortunately, Ran Buyue stopped and turned to look at him.

“Let’s talk,” Shu Zhenshan pleaded.

Ran Buyue hesitated, then nodded and said, “Okay.”

Shu Zhenshan tossed out, “Director Ran and I still have something to discuss,” before closing the meeting room door, leaving behind his worried subordinates—Don’t let this end in violence, they thought.

Now alone, Ran Buyue lazily sank into a chair, cradling his unfinished fruit tea like a squirrel and asked, “What’s so private, President Shu, that you can’t say it in front of everyone…”

“There are no other alternatives,” Shu Zhenshan interrupted.

Ran Buyue froze mid-sip. “…What?”

Shu Zhenshan stepped beside him, eyes lowered, repeating, “I didn’t approach anyone else. I only sent you the invitation.”

“Why?” Ran Buyue asked.

With one hand bracing the desk behind him, Shu Zhenshan’s fingertips trembled. His voice was deliberately steady. “Because you’re the best.”

Having said it, he didn’t dare look at Ran Buyue, afraid to see the same cold indifference as before—that would leave him unsure of what to do.

Ran Buyue sat up straight, gradually smiling. He asked lightly, “Really? Are you saying there isn’t a better designer than me in the entire world?”

Looking into those clear, black-and-white eyes, Shu Zhenshan found it unbearable. He averted his gaze slightly, his throat dry. “He’s the most talented designer I’ve ever seen. I didn’t get to work with him before, so I wanted to try again.”

Back then, he hadn’t been prepared enough. Now he believed he was, and that gave him the courage to invite him again.

Ran Buyue called out, “Shu Zhenshan.”

Shu Zhenshan looked at him.

“Actually, even if you hadn’t told me any of this, I would’ve still seriously considered your project,” Ran Buyue said. “We have an evaluation system for projects—multiple dimensions of assessment. Your project scored very highly.”

Shu Zhenshan felt like his kite had floated higher.

“But I still need time to compare it with other options,” Ran Buyue added.

The kite was tugged back down again.

“Still, thank you for telling me,” he said.

Shu Zhenshan’s chest was tight and numb. From this angle, if he lowered his hand, he could touch the ends of Ran Buyue’s hair.

He hesitated in torment, and just as he reached out, Ran Buyue stood up.

“A week or so,” he said as he headed for the door. “I’ll give you an answer.”

From that day on, Shu Zhenshan barely slept. Not until he received the signed contract from Ran Buyue did his heart finally settle.

Even though the result came from an objective evaluation by Ran Buyue’s team, untainted by personal feelings, Shu Zhenshan was happy.

At least it showed he was no longer that impoverished, powerless student who couldn’t give Ran Buyue what he wanted.

Back then, Shu Zhenshan had been at the most difficult point in his life.

Childhood hardship had been pure suffering—he didn’t need to think much, just charge forward. But approaching university graduation, his life plan was shattered by countless forces. He had to take initiative and seize everything he could—otherwise, he’d be devoured by his own family—a colossal, rotting beast.

During their cold war, Shu Zhenshan had sent Ran Buyue flowers, designer gifts, tried everything to make him smile—all to no avail. He didn’t understand why Ran Buyue was so cold. No matter how many times he asked, he got no answers. Eventually, he stopped asking.

But a robotics company, a little world they could build together—Shu Zhenshan was sure Ran Buyue would like that.

He had prepared so much, planning a grand surprise, only to discover that not only would his family not invest—they were trying to drag him down and bleed him dry.

Shu Zhenshan quickly realized he had no second path. He couldn’t distance himself from the family’s risk and grow his own career across the ocean. Sooner or later, trouble would find him. Countless people would try to pull him into hell with them.

Dragging him down was one thing. What he couldn’t tolerate was endangering Ran Buyue.

Shu Xunxin was a madman. On their first meeting, he’d brought poison and used Ran Buyue to threaten Shu Zhenshan into funding his illegal dealings.

Who knew how he’d discovered their relationship? But for someone like Shu Xunxin, it wouldn’t have been hard.

Shu Zhenshan would never agree. He’d never put Ran Buyue at risk.

For absolute safety, Shu Zhenshan knew he had to reach the very top, control the entire conglomerate, and lead it back to life.

In a moment of crisis, his second uncle gave up control of the group without hesitation, like tossing away a hot potato. Shu Zhenshan wasn’t stupid. He retaliated—pinned all debts and risks on his uncle, while taking full control for himself.

Back then, Shu Zhenshan was still a university student. To save a ship riddled with holes, he had to give everything—effort, willpower, sacrifice.

He never relaxed his nerves. He flew across the world, met with executives, negotiated with investors, dealt with officials, solidified his position in the group—all while fending off Shu Xunxin.

Once, Shu Xunxin sent him a candid photo of Ran Buyue in class. Shu Zhenshan had just finished a shareholder negotiation in London and flew back to Boston overnight without rest.

Though he had bodyguards secretly protecting Ran Buyue, and Shu Xunxin wouldn’t dare make a move, Shu Zhenshan still couldn’t feel at ease.

To deal with a despicable man, you had to be more despicable. Shu Zhenshan dragged Shu Xunxin to an underground bar, gripped his throat, and poured a whole bottle of 60% vodka straight into his mouth—nearly killed him.

Fratricide was the family curse—it had started with their fathers and had now been passed on, like some inherited plague.

Shu Zhenshan had never hated himself more. He had become just like his father’s generation. His hands were dirty, his heart darker—but he had no choice.

Even in the midst of chaos, Shu Zhenshan kept planning the robotics company. No family support—but he believed he could do it alone.

On long transcontinental flights, he would doze off and dream of showing Ran Buyue a bright new lab. “This is ours,” he’d say. “You can build whatever wild dreams you want.” Ran Buyue would smile so happily.

That cold and distant expression—maybe it would never appear again?

Love had always been scarce in Shu Zhenshan’s life. His views on love were shaped by friends and films—simple and sincere.

Give you my best. Make you happy. That’s love.

But he wasn’t good enough. Not yet.

That belief sustained him through those darkest days.

Hang on a bit longer, get that next investment, catch the next opportunity, and then he could give Ran Buyue a better version of himself.

At first, Ran Buyue would frequently message him, asking how he was doing.

Later, Shu Zhenshan got so busy that by the time he saw the messages, 24 hours had already passed.

He replied with apologies and explanations. Ran Buyue responded, “Okay. When are you coming home? Zhima keeps asking for you.”

Another 24 hours passed before Shu Zhenshan saw it. His heart ached, but he had only five minutes before his next presentation. He texted: “Soon.”

His “soon” lasted over half a month.

Whenever he was on the East Coast—even if in New York or DC—he always made sure to fly back to Boston to sleep. Even if Ran Buyue was asleep when he got home and still asleep when he left.

He would sit on the edge of the bed, looking at the faint blue under Ran Buyue’s eyes, unwilling to wake him. He’d quietly crawl into bed and leave again in a few hours. Before going, he’d pet Zhima’s fuzzy head and press a finger to his lips shhh.

But he didn’t know that even in deep sleep, Ran Buyue could feel someone beside him. That kind of fatigue and loneliness, like being wrapped in thick fog, made it difficult to breathe.

He endured for a long time.

Endured until one day when Shu Zhenshan came home to find Ran Buyue sitting at the dining table, waiting for him with a plate of food.

“I didn’t eat,” Ran Buyue said.

Shu Zhenshan was exhausted and bewildered, asking him why he didn’t eat.

Ran Buyue calmly replied, “I wanted to eat with you.”

He wanted just one meal, one evening where they could sit together and share food like before. Just one.

Shu Zhenshan opened his mouth to say something but didn’t know what. He was too tired, and after a long pause, all he could say was, “I’m sorry.”

Ran Buyue nodded and began to eat slowly.

He didn’t eat much.

He didn’t say much either.

That night, he fell asleep in Shu Zhenshan’s arms, asking softly, “Shu Zhenshan, do you still love me?”

Shu Zhenshan kissed his forehead and whispered, “I do.”

That was the last time Ran Buyue asked.

From then on, he never brought it up again.

He didn’t ask why Shu Zhenshan wasn’t home. He didn’t ask when they could finally start the company they had dreamed of. He didn’t ask about anything anymore.

He seemed to understand everything and seemed to forgive everything, which made Shu Zhenshan all the more guilty.

One day, Ran Buyue moved out without a word.

He left the keys on the coffee table and took all his things.

Even Zhima was gone.

Shu Zhenshan came home from a business trip and found the apartment eerily quiet. The furniture and décor were still there, but the life had been drained from it. No slippers at the door, no warm light left on for him in the living room, no soft purring from Zhima when he opened the door.

Just silence.

His heart plummeted, and his hand trembled as he picked up the keys.

That was the end.

Ran Buyue didn’t give a reason. Didn’t give an explanation.

Just left.

No matter how many times Shu Zhenshan messaged him, he got no reply. No matter how many times he called, the line remained unanswered.

He had no right to chase him down. Not anymore.

And now, a year later, they met again—under the guise of professional cooperation.

But they both knew that something had been left unresolved. Something that neither of them dared to touch again.

Shu Zhenshan finally stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, Ran Buyue had already walked far down the street, head slightly tilted, talking to someone on the phone.

Even from a distance, his features were still so distinct. The way he stood, the way he moved—it hadn’t changed. Still elegant, still precise, like a sculpture come to life.

Shu Zhenshan watched as he turned a corner and disappeared.

There was no sign that he had ever been here.

In the silence of the office, Shu Zhenshan stood for a long time.

Finally, he whispered to himself:

“Ran Buyue… I still love you.”

But this time, no one answered.

Only the faint rustle of wind brushing past the window, like a sigh.

Like a goodbye.