Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Long-Awaited Reunion

The plane landed at Pengcheng International Airport, with only three hours left until Hao Le’s birthday banquet.

From the moment they disembarked, it was like a battle for Ran Buyue—dropping off luggage at the hotel, showering, getting dressed and styled, then grabbing the gift for Young Master Hao and rushing out to hail a cab straight to the venue.

In the taxi, Tian Xiaozhe finally caught his breath. “Good grief, I’m exhausted. Let’s hope we’re not late.”

Ran Buyue leaned back in the rear seat with his eyes closed, a tired crease between his brows and faint shadows under his eyes.

“Boss, are you alright?” Tian Xiaozhe asked with concern. “If it’s too much, should we just skip it? Say we got stuck in traffic on the way back from the airport.”

After over ten hours in the air, Ran Buyue had hardly slept, barely touched the airplane food, and got motion sickness multiple times to the point of dry heaving.

Tian Xiaozhe had been helpless the entire time. All he could do was eat both their first-class meals himself, upholding the “Clean Plate Campaign.”

Ran Buyue asked, “When the flight attendant asked if you wanted food, did you say yes?”

Tian Xiaozhe didn’t see what that had to do with attending the banquet, but still answered honestly, “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I eat if I could?”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m going.”

Tian Xiaozhe gave him a thumbs-up. “Boss, you’re the real deal.”

As they neared the banquet hall, Tian Xiaozhe realized they were the only taxi among a stream of luxury vehicles, surrounded on all sides by high-end cars.

Tian Xiaozhe shrank into his seat. “Maybe we should’ve rented a Maserati…”

Ran Buyue didn’t even open his eyes. “We should’ve ridden a shared bike.”

A moment later, they arrived at the destination. Tian Xiaozhe quickly ducked out—assistants and secretaries weren’t allowed into the venue—so he went off to kill time elsewhere.

Ran Buyue stepped out of the taxi with a calm expression, presented his invitation to the doorman, and walked through a garden like an oil painting into a building resembling a castle, opulent and fragrant.

Lavish crystal chandeliers hung from a magnificent domed ceiling. The marble staircase bloomed like petals. Ladies in glittering gowns swayed gracefully, mirrored by the polished shoes of sharply dressed gentlemen. Jewels and hair ornaments sparkled with dazzling brilliance. The hall had transformed into a shimmering spring lake, full of elegant silhouettes and fragrant waves.

Ran Buyue looked at the guests’ formal attire, then lowered his gaze to his own outfit and suddenly realized something. Flipping over the invitation, he found—unsurprisingly—a dress code he had completely overlooked.

He was only wearing a white silk shirt and a black serpent brooch—he looked like The Great Gatsby: Budget Edition.

Great. Before he even had the chance to hook a rich fish, he might get kicked out.

Just as Ran Buyue was regretting this, a strong wave of men’s cologne hit his nose, followed by a cheerful voice. “Mr. Ran! You’re here!”

The smiling face of Hao Le came into view, beaming like a blooming flower. He looked like a grown-up New Year’s poster baby, radiating cheer—completely mismatched with the custom-tailored suit he wore.

Ran Buyue nearly coughed from the overpowering cologne but still managed a polite smile and handed over the gift. “Mr. Hao, happy birthday.”

“Aw, thank you! No need for the ‘Mr. Hao,’ just call me Lele!”

Hao Le accepted the gift with ease, completely ignoring Ran Buyue’s underdressed appearance, and slung an arm around his shoulders like an old friend. “Mr. Ran, since it’s your first time here and you’re not familiar with the place, let me give you a little tour!”

The pre-dinner cocktail party was the best time for socializing. Guests mingled in small groups, chatting freely, while servers moved among them with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks.

Hao Le introduced Ran Buyue to several manufacturing executives, subtly hyping him up with a few well-placed compliments. After a few minutes, the birthday star fluttered away like a social butterfly—he had too many guests to greet.

Even though the introductions were brief, they were enough to lend credibility. Ran Buyue smoothly continued the conversations and quickly found rapport with the group.

In no time, his cardholder was several business cards heavier.

He seemed like a completely different person—modest and witty, in his element—no sign of the exhausted traveler he had been in the car, and no one would guess he’d just returned from across the globe, dragging himself straight here.

Holding a glass of champagne, Ran Buyue listened intently to the conversations around him. Suddenly, his vision flickered with bright spots, and he nearly stumbled.

The lights were blinding, the perfumes overpowering, and the nausea from his flight began to surge again. He braced himself against a high-top table and fought to suppress the urge to retch.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, his vision had cleared.

Someone approached to toast him. Ran Buyue clinked glasses with practiced ease and exchanged a few pleasantries before downing his drink in one go.

—

By the time Shu Zhenshan arrived, the cocktail hour was nearly over.

Hao Le pointed at him and scolded, “You brat, were you planning to ghost me? Showing up this late!”

Shu Zhenshan tapped his watch, silently saying: dinner hasn’t started yet—I’m on time.

Hao Le put his hands on his hips. “There was a cocktail hour first, remember? No respect for the birthday boy!” But it was all bark, no real bite.

Cocktail hours were ideal for networking upward, but for someone like Shu Zhenshan, everyone here was either already familiar or not worth meeting. To be blunt, the event wasn’t necessary for him.

Hao Le knew Shu Zhenshan had been busy squeezing money from investors lately, so he hadn’t expected him at the cocktail hour anyway.

“Pfft.” Hao Le glanced at Shu Zhenshan’s chest and suddenly chuckled.

Shu Zhenshan: “?”

“That same pocket square again?” Hao Le’s gaze was suggestive, reaching out as if to touch it.

Shu Zhenshan swatted his hand away without expression.

“Tsk tsk.” Hao Le had expected that and retracted his hand with a mischievous smirk. He couldn’t resist asking for the hundredth time, “Zhenshan, why have you kept that same piece of cloth all these years?”

Pocket squares were a delicate business—the color, fabric, and pattern had to coordinate but not match exactly. Shu Zhenshan knew the rules.

Yet at several key events, regardless of suit or tie, he always wore that old, plain white square.

As a self-proclaimed fashion prince, Hao Le was sharp-eyed enough to notice Shu Zhenshan’s hidden attachment. That cold-blooded workaholic actually had a precious item no one else was allowed to touch—Hao Le’s curiosity burned.

As expected, Shu Zhenshan gave no reply—his hundredth silent rejection.

Suppressing the itch to ask again, Hao Le threw an arm over his shoulder and said, “Since you’re early, come meet someone.”

Shu Zhenshan played along. “Who?”

“A badass designer. When you finally get that robot project off the ground, you’re gonna need someone like him.”

“I already have someone in mind,” Shu Zhenshan said flatly.

“Pshh. You could line up ten guys and none would compare to this one. Trust me—you’ll thank me later.” Hao Le lowered his voice mysteriously. “Honestly, I think you two would get along really well.”

“Uh-huh.” Shu Zhenshan nodded. “Who is it?”

“Lemme find him…”

Hao Le led Shu Zhenshan through the crowd like a celebrity weaving through a ballroom—amid flowers, cheers, and countless toasts, the birthday boy basked in the attention.

“He’s young, super accomplished, won a bunch of awards. Did an amazing job with one of our previous products. Then he went to work for the Americans for a few years, but now he’s back and starting his own studio. If you want him, grab him now—before he gets too busy to take your project.”

As he spoke, Shu Zhenshan felt a growing unease. His fingers clenched the stem of his wine glass, and his heart pounded uncontrollably.

“Come to think of it, you guys graduated from the same university… Oh! There he is—second floor!”

But before Hao Le even spoke, Shu Zhenshan had already seen him.

It was hard not to.

In a sea of deep, formal wear, only one man wore a simple white silk shirt—flowing and sleek, outlining a lean, tall frame.

A speck of white amid black waves. Everyone else faded into background noise.

A single pearl on a black velvet tray.

Hao Le continued chattering excitedly beside him, but Shu Zhenshan couldn’t hear a thing.

He ascended the marble staircase, each step like wading deeper into an icy river—the water rising past his legs, waist, chest—until it crushed the breath from his lungs.

The person he’d seen only in magazine spreads now stood vividly before him, real and alive.

It felt like a dream.

Ran Buyue lazily swirled a glass of red wine, moving with grace. He sipped occasionally, lips tinted a soft crimson.

When did he learn to drink? How much had he had?

Then Ran Buyue smiled at someone, snapping Shu Zhenshan out of his trance.

Only then did Shu Zhenshan notice another sharply dressed man standing beside Ran Buyue, the two engaged in an animated conversation.

As Ran Buyue raised his glass, the silk collar shifted slightly, revealing two delicate, pale collarbones.

No need to touch—Shu Zhenshan could tell at a glance that he’d lost weight.

Thinner than in the magazines—almost sickly.

A sharp pain clenched Shu Zhenshan’s chest. A nameless fury surged.

Then the man beside Ran Buyue said something that made him laugh again.

They exchanged business cards.

Clearly, it was a successful networking moment.

“Hey hey, Mr. Ran and Yao-ge deep in conversation, sorry to interrupt!”

Hao Le hadn’t even steadied his footing, but he’d already clinked glasses with them like a pro.

The other man laughed and said, “The birthday star himself,” then spotted someone standing behind him and politely greeted, “Mr. Shu.”

Shu?

Ran Buyue turned around.

Too late to look away.

His eyes locked onto a pair of pitch-black ones—completely unprepared.

—

The tide receded. The moon rose.

Ran Buyue’s smile vanished, color drained from his face, and his lips turned deathly pale.

Shu Zhenshan felt like he had stepped off a cliff—weightless, blank, and stung by a pain he couldn’t describe.

Heh. You really hate me that much.

Shu Zhenshan let out a bitter laugh in his heart.

Hao Le cheerfully slung an arm around them both. “Let me introduce you. This is Shu Zhenshan, president and chairman of Yanchuan Group. And this is Ran Buyue, an outstanding designer who just returned to China. He also graduated from M University. Maybe you guys already know each other, haha—”

“We don’t.”

Shu Zhenshan said flatly.

Hao Le blinked in surprise, then playfully punched him in the shoulder. “You’re a few years older than him, so I guess it makes sense. Well, now you know each other!”

Shu Zhenshan stood one step lower on the staircase, level with Ran Buyue’s eyes.

But Ran Buyue couldn’t do anything—he just stared at him, mind completely blank.

Don’t know me.

Shu Zhenshan said he didn’t know him.

“Mr. Ran,” Shu Zhenshan greeted politely, raising his glass slightly.

Ran Buyue stared back. His features were sharper than before, his aura more composed, his eyes quieter—but more dangerous.

More tightly restrained.

Eyes that Ran Buyue had once stared into countless times.

They were standing too close. Unbearably close.

By social norms, Ran Buyue should now say “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shu,” or “I’ve heard so much about you.” He forced himself to raise his glass, but his fingers and voice refused to cooperate.

At the worst possible moment, his frozen body reactivated—noise flooded into his ears, the chaos of perfume assaulted his nose, and the world spun violently.

He was back in that narrow airplane cabin, floating under a starry sky.

CRASH!

The wine glass slammed against Shu Zhenshan’s chest, then shattered on the stairs.

Dark red wine soaked through his shirt and jacket, staining the white pocket square, dripping down steadily.

Silence fell around them.

Shu Zhenshan looked down, face darkening. But instead of pulling out the pocket square, he quickly shoved the entire thing deeper into his jacket until nothing showed.

The incident had happened so fast that Hao Le was stunned, two bolded words flashing in his mind: We’re screwed.

This was like a death sentence for Shu Zhenshan!

He stared at Ran Buyue in awe and regret. Bro, I salute you. You did something I never dared even dream of. Rest in peace, brother!

But then, something even more shocking happened—

Ran Buyue, his gaze distant and unfocused, looked at Shu Zhenshan for a long moment.

Then he hunched over—and retched violently.