Unforgettable Touch - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Loss of Self

Ran Buyue pulled the pocket square from Shu Zhenshan’s hand and leaned in slightly, asking softly, “So how do you fold it?”

Without a change in expression, Shu Zhenshan averted his gaze and unfolded his own silk square. “I’ll show you.”

It was the first time he had seen Ran Buyue in a suit, and it was only natural to glance a few more times.

Today was the wedding of the PhD senior in their team. The usual nerds who lived in hoodies were all digging through their closets for the most formal outfits they owned—each one suddenly polished and glowing.

These golden boys had been attending formal events since childhood, so they were well-practiced. But for Ran Buyue, this was a first.

He had traveled abroad alone at eighteen to study, introverted and quiet, like a lotus bud blooming in the corner—tender and soft, like it would drip with water if you pinched it.

Whenever he was forced to open his mouth and ask for help, he almost always turned to Shu Zhenshan.

Like now, asking how to fold a pocket square, his delicate chin tilted slightly upward, voice calm.

Why does he have to act so cute? Shu Zhenshan stared at him blankly.

Shu Zhenshan attributed Ran Buyue’s closeness to the imprinting effect—after all, it was Shu who had found him alone in the lab that night, who just happened to also be Chinese, who became the first person in the entire school to show him any kindness. Naturally, Ran Buyue stuck close.

It was normal for fellow countrymen to look out for one another. But acting this coquettish was another matter.

Ran Buyue had bought the most basic pocket square—white linen, not expensive, but classic.

Shu Zhenshan showed him how to fold it and helped place it into his chest pocket. Ran Buyue looked down and fiddled with it, then commented, “Looks like two bunny ears running.”

It was at that moment that Shu Zhenshan felt Ran Buyue had crossed a line.

Those pale lips—usually lazy to part—how could they utter something so teasing?

It made him want to swallow him whole.

Shu Zhenshan felt like a kite, once freely soaring in the sky, until a naughty child grabbed his string. Tug a little—he’d lower. Let go a little—he’d rise. Just up and down like that, and the kid never let go.

Truly a little menace.

The wedding was held on a grassy lawn under the warm sun. Colorful balloons bumped together in the breeze, bubbling up feelings inside Shu Zhenshan.

The bride and groom walked through a wrought-iron arch as guests cheered and clapped, confetti raining from the sky. Ran Buyue quietly raised his phone to take photos, the corners of his lips curved in a smile. Shu Zhenshan turned to look at him just in time to see streamers fall on his slightly long hair.

A few months ago, Ran Buyue had started growing it out.

They were watching a student band performance when the guitarist, a blond guy, came on stage with wild, cool, long hair.

Shu Zhenshan had seen plenty of shows like that, so he wasn’t particularly interested, but he noticed Ran Buyue was captivated—eyes locked, unmoving.

He always picked up on Ran Buyue’s subtle interests. Everyone assumed Ran only cared about robots and mechanical design, but that wasn’t entirely true—mostly because Ran Buyue would secretly leak his preferences to him in tiny ways.

“Do you like the guitar?” Shu Zhenshan had asked nearly against Ran’s ear, since the music was too loud.

Ran Buyue shook his head. Then after a pause, said, “I had long hair back in middle school.”

“Oh.” Shu Zhenshan studied Ran Buyue’s neat, short haircut and said naturally, “Then grow it out again. You’d look great with long hair.”

It was a conclusion he had reached objectively, without personal bias—so it was well worth accepting.

Ran Buyue looked skeptical. “Really?”

Shu Zhenshan nearly said, “Nope,” because honestly, Ran Buyue looked good no matter what hairstyle he had.

But to his surprise, Ran took his advice and began growing his hair out from that day.

As it gradually grew longer, Shu Zhenshan felt something slowly wrapping tighter around him.

By the day of the wedding, Ran Buyue’s hair had reached that awkward in-between length. Shu Zhenshan, however, didn’t think it looked awkward at all. The soft strands brushed the tops of his ears, making him look like a well-behaved schoolboy.

A good student in formalwear, with an indifferent expression on his beautiful face, aloof and cool. Every guest passing by took a second look at him.

The robotics club members gathered to chat. The stylish Italian guy in the group winked and asked, “Do you know the secret codes behind pocket squares?”

Everyone showed curiosity, and he smugly pulled out his own pocket square to demonstrate with flair.

He explained that just like women once used fans to send secret messages, men could do the same with pocket squares.

Folding it in hand meant “I want to talk to you”; brushing it across your eyes meant “Please forgive me”; across the forehead meant “We’re being watched”; placing it on your shoulder meant “Come with me”; wrapping it around your index finger meant “I’m engaged”; the ring finger meant “I’m married”…

Then he casually pulled a blonde girl beside him and gently brushed the square across her cheek, saying with a wink, “This means… I love you.”

The girl laughed, and in the cheers around them, they kissed.

Shu Zhenshan turned to look for Ran Buyue—and found Ran already looking at him, gaze clear and unguarded. Shu Zhenshan’s heart gave a jolt, and he quickly looked away.

There it is again. That brat tightening the string and pulling him down—down into rippling waters.

After the wedding banquet, the pool party began. The bride popped open a bottle of champagne, the spray arcing perfectly onto the lawn as the crowd hit their peak excitement.

By now, everyone was pretty drunk. People were much looser abroad. The Italian guy from earlier was now making out with another girl, and no one even batted an eye—everyone was too busy having their own fun.

Many people came up to talk to Shu Zhenshan, both men and women. After finally getting rid of them, he turned and saw Ran Buyue surrounded by a group of gorgeous girls, holding a glass of high-proof liquor one of them had handed him.

Ran Buyue was such a reserved person—he’d definitely need rescuing. So Shu Zhenshan walked over.

But just halfway there, he saw Ran clink glasses with them—and down his drink in one go.

As soon as their eyes met, Shu Zhenshan could tell Ran was drunk. His black pupils were shining with an unusual, soft glow.

He pulled Ran away and asked if he wanted to go home. Ran slowly shook his head, so they stood by the poolside in the breeze.

Nearby, a group of people were playing wildly, laughing and splashing. Suddenly, a blond guy was shoved into the pool, causing a huge splash.

Both Shu Zhenshan and Ran Buyue were caught in the spray—their shirts soaked.

Ran immediately unbuttoned three buttons, exposing a swath of snowy skin, probably intending to strip off the wet shirt.

Shu Zhenshan’s scalp went numb. He hurriedly grabbed his hand. He hadn’t expected a single shot to get Ran this drunk.

Ran looked straight at him, eyes wide, softly muttering, “Hot,” then “Shirt’s sticky,” and “Uncomfortable,” his voice soft and breath warm.

The kite’s frame felt like it was melting.

“…Take it off inside,” Shu Zhenshan gritted out, half-dragging, half-carrying Ran into the villa. Overnight guests were allowed to stay.

He kicked open an empty room and set Ran down on the bed. The air was thick with the dizzying scent of him.

Ran began undressing like no one else was there. The suit jacket was tossed aside, and the half-transparent shirt clung to his body, like a white snake shedding its skin.

Shu Zhenshan, with his excellent eyesight, was unfortunately forced to see—on one side… he was sunken.

Like a tiny Mount Fuji with a flat top.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Shu Zhenshan barked, “Get some rest,” and was about to walk out—when Ran Buyue called him.

“Shu.” The name came so lightly, yet it rooted Shu Zhenshan in place.

Ran reached up, gently tugging at his collar. There was no strength in the gesture, but Shu Zhenshan found himself unable to resist, leaning down involuntarily.

“You’ve got something on your face…”

He felt a soft cloth press against his cheek, wiping away the moisture there. Whether it was pool water or sweat—he didn’t know.

A few seconds later, Shu Zhenshan realized—it was Ran Buyue’s pocket square.

Sh1t.

He could practically hear the sound of the kite drowning. Though lifeless, it somehow died again.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Shu Zhenshan’s voice was hoarse, nearly a growl.

He hated that detached, lazy look on Ran Buyue’s face—eyes so innocent, clothes half off, while his hands were committing a silent crime.

It was infuriating.

Shu Zhenshan yanked the square from his hand, grabbed Ran’s face, and crushed their lips together.

That was his first kiss. First night. First love…

Was it love? At the time, Shu Zhenshan wasn’t sure.

In the first twenty-one years of his life, he had never felt anything like this. He’d never been loved by anyone. He had no reference point.

All he knew was—he no longer felt like himself. He felt as though he had lost himself, yet also discovered himself.

Back then, all Shu Zhenshan wanted was for time to freeze in that moment, for the person in his arms to never leave.

It wasn’t until many years later that Shu Zhenshan slowly realized—
It wasn’t that Ran Buyue was too tempting.
It was that he had fallen.

And that overwhelming, life-or-death loss of self—
Was what people called “love.”