Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Let’s Be Friends with Benefits

Ran Buyue was instantly provoked by the words “n1pple piercing,” his ears flushing red.

But his expression remained cold as he slapped Shu Zhenshan lightly on the chest. “Who do you think you are, tattooing your name here?”

“You know exactly how good this who’ is.”

Shu Zhenshan spoke slowly, then bent down and lifted him up.

Ran Buyue cursed at him, “Pervert,” but naturally hooked his arms around Shu Zhenshan’s shoulders and wrapped his legs around the man’s waist like a koala, being carried back to the room.

“Let’s eat lunch first,” Shu Zhenshan said, steadily supporting the back of Ran Buyue’s thighs as he walked through the room, down the hallway, and into the dining area.

Ran Buyue tried to wiggle down, but got a light smack on the butt from Shu Zhenshan, which shut him up.

Fortunately, the entire mansion was booked by Shu Zhenshan—there wasn’t even a housekeeper in sight along the corridor.

By the time they reached the dining room and Ran Buyue was set down, he walked a few steps and suddenly felt thankful Shu Zhenshan had carried him. With the state his body was in, walking was seriously exhausting.

After lunch, Shu Zhenshan got busy again, working in the room and stepping out every now and then to take phone calls—each lasting half an hour or more. It was clear he was swamped.

Initially, Ran Buyue had planned to leave like last time, figuring Shu Zhenshan was busy and they’d already done what needed to be done.

But yesterday had really drained him—he didn’t feel like moving a muscle.

So he curled up on the tatami mat reading reports, gradually succumbing to post-meal drowsiness. His body and mind were in a rare state of deep relaxation, and he drifted toward sleep.

Odd. That usually didn’t happen when he worked.

In a daze, someone took the tablet from his hand. A warm body nestled in next to him—it was large. A pair of bony, distinct hands wrapped around his waist.

“Aren’t you on a call?” Ran Buyue mumbled sleepily.

“Finished,” Shu Zhenshan replied.

Ran Buyue felt his hands start to explore—gentle, barely touching, but enough to make his nerves twitch and heat rise in waves from his bones.

“Don’t…” Ran Buyue frowned and pushed him away. “I can’t take it…”

“Had enough to eat?” Shu Zhenshan asked.

Ran Buyue gave a small grunt, “Mm.”

“How long’s that gonna hold you over?” Shu Zhenshan asked.

Ran Buyue blinked, confused.

Shu Zhenshan rephrased it. “When’s your next appointment—and with who?”

His tone was casual, like asking, “Who are you eating with tomorrow?”

Ran Buyue looked at him and chuckled. “None of your business.”

Shu Zhenshan nodded in understanding. Then he pulled Ran Buyue into his arms again, his palm sliding over smooth skin. His long middle and ring fingers pressed together, curling in without warning—his face completely calm.

A sudden moan escaped before Ran Buyue could stop it. He had only managed half a sentence—“Again…”—before the rest got swallowed.

Unbelievable. This man had broken not only the limits of human stamina, but also the bottom line of moral decency. A Guinness World Record judge really should’ve been present.

Shu Zhenshan, still with one free hand, picked up his phone and held it in front of Ran Buyue’s face as a helpful reminder. “The 4th isn’t over yet.”

Ran Buyue glared at him while rocking his hips in frustration. “So?”

“So we’ve still got 7 hours and 32 minutes,” Shu Zhenshan replied.

He knew Ran Buyue’s limits like the back of his hand. Even after all these years, Shu Zhenshan had a knack for observing and evaluating Ran Buyue’s condition.

Ran Buyue was the type to tease without skill—physically delicate and not into sports. Too much intensity would overwhelm him quickly. But if done in waves—short bursts with breaks—he could go for a long time.

When they finally stopped, Ran Buyue was exhausted to the bone and felt Shu Zhenshan massaging his knees.

Then he heard Shu Zhenshan ask, “Ah Ran, don’t see anyone else from now on.”

Ran Buyue was too tired to lift even a finger, but smiled and said, “Want to be friends with benefits? Then you can’t see anyone else either.”

Shu Zhenshan pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Why?” Ran Buyue lifted himself slightly and asked.

Shu Zhenshan, still expertly massaging his sore muscles, countered, “I alone can’t satisfy you?”

“That’s secondary,” Ran Buyue murmured contentedly, eyes closing. “Mainly, you’re actually healthy.”

After last time, Shu Zhenshan had really sent over a full medical report—all indicators excellent. Safe, natural, organic.

And every time, his precautions were thorough.

Maybe even too thorough.

Shu Zhenshan said, “Alright. Then it’s settled.”

He couldn’t bear to see another man’s marks on Ran Buyue ever again.

They spent one more day in Tokyo doing nothing but relaxing—a luxury for both of them—before flying back to China.

At the airport arrival gate, they separated immediately. Ran Buyue was picked up by Tian Xiaozhe; Shu Zhenshan’s company driver came for him. The two teams parted in opposite directions, exchanging a quick goodbye.

“How was the trip, boss? Shu didn’t give you trouble, right?” Tian Xiaozhe asked with concern.

“Not bad,” Ran Buyue replied.

Life at work quickly returned to normal, except now the meals sent to Ran Buyue’s office had changed.

That day, Tian Xiaozhe had ordered their usual takeout, but Ran Buyue didn’t touch it, as always.

Just as Tian Xiaozhe was about to complain, another delivery person arrived—saying they had food for “Mr. Ran.”

Puzzled, Tian Xiaozhe brought it up. “Boss, did you order this?”

Ran Buyue opened the box and gave a noncommittal “Mm” from his nose.

“Smells good!” Tian Xiaozhe leaned over the desk, eyes sparkling.

Ran Buyue unwrapped his chopsticks and said blandly, “Why are you staring? Don’t you have your own?”

Tian Xiaozhe pouted, “Alright, fine…” Then he asked if he should stop ordering lunch for Ran Buyue from now on.

Ran Buyue said yes.

Eventually, Tian Xiaozhe managed to beg for a piece of pork rib—but one bite in, the intense ginger flavor had him wincing. From that day on, he never again wanted to touch the daily lunch that arrived punctually for Ran Buyue.

On Ran Buyue’s desk sat a paper calendar. He carefully marked all important dates: project deadlines, client meetings, patent application timelines…

Despite working in a highly digitized industry, he still had a fondness for analog tools.

There was one date, though, that he kept in his heart instead of marking down—a date that weighed heavier on him each year it approached.

This year, the skies were bright and sunny, helping lift his gloomy mood.

Ran Buyue had taken the day off in advance and drove alone to the northern cemetery of Peng City, carrying a bouquet of white tulips and a few bags.

The headstone bore a photo of a young couple—heads gently leaning together, plainly dressed, smiling sweetly into the camera.

“Mom, Dad… I came to see you.”

Ran Buyue placed the tulips before the grave and began unpacking the bags.

“Mom, your favorite flowers—I couldn’t find the pink ones this year, so I brought white. They’re still pretty. Dad, here’s the wine. The doctor said you shouldn’t drink too much, so I brought something low-proof. A little should be fine…”

“And here’s Mom’s favorite double-skin milk. You wouldn’t believe how much prices have gone up—this tiny bowl costs ten bucks! Back then, we got it for three…”

He remembered every payday, Mom would take him to her favorite dessert shop and buy a bowl of double-skin milk with her first paycheck. She’d push it to him with shining eyes, letting him take the first bite.

Little Ran Buyue would take a spoonful, wrinkle his nose at the intense sweetness, but still smile and say “Delicious,” then let his mom finish the rest.

“It still tastes the same…” Ran Buyue squatted down and took a bite, frowning with a smile. “So sweet.”

Then his lips pressed together—salty.

“Dad, I made some new stuff last year. Want to see?”

He pulled out several paper models from his bag—projects from his last year in the U.S.: a modernist house, a city-center park rest area, and a sleek, mechanical-looking outboard motor design.

“I think I’m doing pretty well. Tried a lot of new fields I wasn’t familiar with. Feedback’s been great—okay, I know you’d nitpick, but take a good look. If you can spot a flaw this time, I’ll admit defeat. Go on, tell me what’s wrong…”

Ran Buyue lowered his eyes and set fire to the paper models.

His parents had been ordinary laborers. Construction, factories, nanny jobs, cleaning—they did whatever they could for money.

His dad worked heavy jobs on construction sites, sometimes staying away for months. When wages weren’t delayed, he’d bring home a few thousand yuan—and some random gadgets for his son.

Broken radios, MP3s, wired earphones, even a huge used engine.

They were junk, but Ran Buyue loved them. Every time, he looked forward to what “toys” his dad had brought.

After school, he’d take them apart, fix them, draw blueprints, wire circuits—his tiny room turning into a mini hardware shop.

At first it took him months to fix a tape recorder. Later, half a day was enough. He constantly begged his dad for new “toys.”

To stall him, his dad would nitpick his creations. “Even if it’s fixed, it doesn’t work well. You need innovation! Otherwise, why would anyone buy yours over someone else’s?”

“You improve it, and I’ll come back.”

His dad just didn’t want him to feel abandoned. But it ended up sparking something in Ran Buyue—accidentally putting him on the path to becoming an inventor.

In third grade, using salvaged parts, he built a motorized skateboard that amazed his school teacher.

Though it was just a small, obscure elementary school, the teacher still helped him get a spot in the district’s young inventors contest.

Ran Buyue would never forget—his dad took him that day.

The venue was a grand youth center, filled with the laughter of children. Their first time there.

His dad wore faded army-green shoes and nervously held his skinny son’s hand.

They wandered a few times, lost, before his dad mustered the courage to ask a well-dressed parent for directions.

The parent smiled kindly and said, “What a coincidence, my kid’s in the contest too. Let’s go together.”

Her son, around Ran Buyue’s age, was dressed like a little prince. Behind him, a chauffeur carried a large bag of contest tools.

Ran Buyue had only an old, grimy secondhand toolbox bought from his dad’s coworker.

On the way, the parents made small talk, and though the woman was gracious and polite, the kids were brutally honest.

The boy pointed at Ran Buyue’s shirt and laughed, “Why are you wearing fake Adidas? What’s ‘Odidos’? Ahahahaha!”

He repeated the fake brand name, dragging it out like it was hilarious.

Ran Buyue’s face flushed. He gripped his dad’s hand tightly.

His dad squeezed back, silent. Only the woman’s attempt to smooth things over broke the awkwardness.

Later, Ran Buyue realized: his parents didn’t even know Adidas was a brand. They just bought the most expensive shirt in the pile—assuming the quality would be best.

That was his first real taste of how unequal life could be.

But he also remembered—wearing his fake 20-yuan shirt and dragging that clunky toolbox—he won first place among dozens of well-dressed kids.

He got a paper certificate and a tiny trophy—no cash prize.

Still, his dad was thrilled and took him out to KFC.

Ran Buyue stood at the counter, looked up, and carefully ordered one beef wrap. The two of them sat for an hour, sharing it.

To this day, that remained the best meal he’d ever had.

That certificate and trophy had been displayed in their living room ever since, alongside all the awards he’d earned over the years.

When his dad passed away unexpectedly, his mom photocopied every award—from primary to middle school—a thick stack.

On the day of the burial, those burning paper awards spun with the ashes in the wind.

“Now your dad can see all your accomplishments too,” his mom had said.

So Ran Buyue developed a habit—working hard for honors, just to show Dad on his death anniversary how far he’d come.

But two years later, his mom passed away too—on the exact same day.

Years of malnutrition and exhaustion finally caught up with her.

Since then, Ran Buyue had been the one photocopying those certificates every year.

This year was a little different.

He sat before their grave and burned copies of his business license and company registration.

“Mom, Dad, I came back to China and opened my own studio. I can choose the projects I want now, and I’ll be able to visit you more.”

He kept rambling on: “Projects are going well. Here—secretly showing you the contracts… But these are confidential! You can’t tell anyone!”

When he got to Shu Zhenshan’s, he hesitated before lighting it, then chuckled. “His contract’s way too thick. I’ll just burn the signature page—gotta be eco-friendly.”

“Yeah… I saw him again.” Ran Buyue brushed his hair aside, voice softer. “You probably don’t want to hear this. But maybe I still lo—ugh, I don’t know.”

Ever since finding out Shu Zhenshan was the heir to Yanchuan Group, Ran Buyue had complicated feelings. At first, he couldn’t even interact with him normally—so he ran.

He didn’t even like confronting his own feelings—but in front of his parents, he was braver.

Yanchuan’s young master had indeed been part of the pain after his dad’s death. But if not for the group’s massive compensation after his mom passed, he probably couldn’t have afforded his elite overseas education.

Either way, it showed the chasm between their worlds.

What they gave or took casually could change an ordinary family’s entire life.

He had no clear answer and didn’t want to bring up anything unseemly in front of his parents—so he left it at that.

Just like how he hadn’t told Shu Zhenshan anything about his parents either.

Their time together was still too brief. Not enough to open up completely.

As always, Ran Buyue ended his visit with a closing remark.

He thought for a moment, then said: “Honestly, life has been going pretty smoothly since junior year. Getting this far… I’m content.”

It was true. After breaking up with Shu Zhenshan, he had channeled all his heartbreak into his career.

At first, it was just school projects. But when he won the UDA Gold Award in junior year, the world saw his talent—and his career took off.

“Thanks for watching over me, Mom and Dad.” Ran Buyue bowed deeply to the smiling young couple etched in stone.

On the way back, his mood remained a little heavy.

Back at the studio, he ran into Tian Xiaozhe, who was laughing hysterically at Shu Zhenshan’s poop-shaped attempt at making ice cream.

Seeing Ran Buyue, Tian Xiaozhe rushed over to greet him, “Welcome back, Boss!”

Ran Buyue smiled for the first time all day.

“President Shu came by,” Tian Xiaozhe tattled cheerfully. “I told him you were off today. He was going to leave, but guess what—you came back just in time.”

“Where’d you go?” he added, nosily. “You look like you had fun.”

“A pretty fun place,” Ran Buyue replied vaguely, then turned to Shu Zhenshan. “What brings you here, President Shu?”

Shu Zhenshan stared at him longer than usual before saying, “Today’s the first draft deadline for the CMF proposal.”

Ran Buyue looked puzzled. “Hui Li should’ve already sent it to your team yesterday.”

Shu Zhenshan said, “I had some new thoughts. Let’s discuss in your office.”

The two of them went upstairs to the second-floor office and closed the door. The glass walls remained transparent.

They sat at opposite ends of the desk, formal and professional.

But Shu Zhenshan’s first question was, “Are you feeling down?”

“…No,” Ran Buyue answered after a pause, eyes lowering.

“Go ahead and do your thing,” Shu Zhenshan said. “I didn’t come to talk business.”

“Then what are you doing here? Practicing how to swirl ice cream?” Ran Buyue asked in confusion.

Shu Zhenshan: “…”

Ran Buyue pressed a button, and the glass door clicked open.

“Then go home. I won’t see you out.”

Shu Zhenshan didn’t move, like he hadn’t heard.

Ran Buyue raised an eyebrow. “?”

“I just wanted to keep you company,” Shu Zhenshan said.