In “How to Conquer a Handsome Big Shot,” Chapter 1, Section 1, let’s highlight an important point—
Big shots are well-known and have extremely strong self-esteem. They might appear indifferent or nonchalant when praised, but remember, no one in the world dislikes hearing compliments about themselves. If someone does, they’re probably not right in the head.
When necessary, you can point at a video of Shaun White (or other appropriate figures for different circles, like Shaquille O’Neal for basketball, Messi for soccer, or Bolt for running) and say innocently: “I think this move is about on par with what you just did… Well, I’m an outsider, so what do I know?”
Wei Zhi had done exactly that.
While taking professional all-mountain and flatland lessons from Lao Yan, she still watched her boyfriend’s videos when reviewing her lessons at night in bed—
If she had mentioned this herself, it might have seemed like a deliberate attempt to flatter. But when her phone accidentally fell on his foot, allowing him to discover that she valued his skills above the professionals and had been doing so for some time…
Naturally, it put him in a good mood.
When had Shan Chong ever voluntarily offered to select his videos for someone to study? At most, he’d say—
“They’re all on the short video platform, go find them yourself.”
At that moment, what he wanted to offer wasn’t just videos, but his completely satisfied and tamed manly pride, along with his devotion.
Thinking back, whether it was when she temporarily learned box props for the goggle team competition or when she started learning all-mountain basics, Wei Zhi might have initially stood on the slope with her hands on her hips, questioning his teaching ability and refusing to follow his instructions, complete with pouting, tantrums, and everything in between…
But from beginning to end, she had never said that Shan Chong’s skiing was poor or that his prop moves were subpar.
Saying he couldn’t teach well was vastly different from questioning his abilities—one was a light-hearted, girlfriend-like playfulness; the other would have been truly hurtful.
Why did the otaku wife understand these nuances?
Mainly because of her broad experience.
After all, how sensitive are today’s readers? If the female lead says something too hurtful, they’ll say the male lead is already struggling enough. Turn around, and they’ll criticize the male lead’s behavior as deserving a grand funeral, saying the female lead would be better off marrying a pig. The author might think the couple just had a small argument, but the comment section would immediately fill with “Maybe this manga should just end with a bad ending,” followed by numerous agreements…
At first, Wei Zhi couldn’t understand why readers of her small 18+ manga would demand a bad ending just because a sexual position wasn’t entirely considerate of the female lead’s pleasure—
The otaku wife had once been devastated by this.
Over time, she became numb to it. She even gained new insights into various human trigger points. Sometimes, before drawing a potentially controversial sexual position or dialogue, she would hesitate, delete, and revise…
In the end, she would replace the same action or dialogue with a gentler, more tactful, and unassailable version before publishing.
Applying this knowledge to the real world, she found it truly useful. What’s wrong with being cautious? No one will dislike you for it.
Never say potentially hurtful things and only joke in completely safe directions—
This method proved genuinely effective.
Occasionally, the otaku wife even wanted to pay tuition fees to her readers in return.
And now, by silently dropping her phone, she had instantly shattered her boyfriend’s student’s attempt at sowing discord. The atmosphere in the cable car was no longer tense as if someone was about to start a hair-pulling fight—
Bei Ci expressionlessly took out his phone.
[ck, Bei Ci: I just realized being a shimu is also a skilled job.]
[Lao Yan: Even being a superstar’s wife is difficult.]
[ck, Bei Ci: @Little Sister Ji is doing very well. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t throw a tantrum or cling to Shifu’s neck asking him to cancel the lesson… That retreat just now showed me the science of women’s warfare and wisdom.]
[Little Sister Ji: Watching won’t help, you’ll never learn it.]
Behind the otaku wife were millions of readers, her think tank—
After weathering storms of criticism, wisdom fruits fell abundantly under the tree of knowledge.
[Hua Yan: What’s happening? More gossip?]
[ck, Bei Ci: Yes, and it’s exciting—a showdown between Caribbean Pirate Bear and Shimu.]
[Hua Yan: …]
[Hua Yan: Can we stop the cable car? I can climb in myself.]
[Hua Yan: Just give me the time of one song.]
[Hua Yan: @ck, Bei Ci why don’t you start a voice chat so I can listen live?]
[ck, Bei Ci: Just now, I realized for the first time that Little Sister is an adult with above-average intelligence.]
[Little Sister Ji: ?]
[ck, Bei Ci: @Little Sister Ji I always thought you were underage before. Every night before bed, I couldn’t help but want to ask Chong-ge if he was a pervert…]
Wei Zhi swiftly put away her phone.
Mainly because she didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire when Bei Ci inevitably got scolded by Shan Chong, just for chiming in or saying one extra word at this moment.
Glancing at Little Bear, she seemed to have good psychological resilience. After her subtle probing backfired and inadvertently helped the couple, she still seemed to have more to say and was actively trying to find a new topic.
Wei Zhi didn’t give her the chance.
Tugging on her boyfriend’s sleeve, not letting him space out anymore, she initiated conversation: “Speaking of all-mountain, I suddenly thought of a question. The basic all-mountain stance is an open stance, with shoulders wide… So when I was learning basic edge changes before, why did you always emphasize not opening the shoulders?”
Shan Chong chuckled.
The young woman tugged at him again. “What are you laughing at?”
“Not letting you open your shoulders was just to prevent your line of sight from leading too much, affecting your edge change rhythm. That’s about it.”
Little Bear moved her lips, wanting to join the conversation, but Wei Zhi cut her off: “That’s not what you said before. You said opening shoulders was a terminal illness.”
“If you’re always in a pizza stance while sliding, keeping your shoulders open doesn’t look good. That’s indeed a terminal illness. If your skiing doesn’t look good, why bother skiing at all?”
“…”
That made sense.
“As for the rest… Strictly speaking, the term ‘open shoulders’ is a recently invented concept,” Shan Chong pondered. “Saying it makes it sound very professional.”
“…”
Wei Zhi’s eyes widened. “Back then, I stayed up all night thinking about the significance of this issue to cure my open shoulders!”
“How was I supposed to know you were pondering that?” Shan Chong glanced at her. “Aren’t you able to ski in the right direction now no matter where you look?”
“…So it was meaningless?”
“Strictly speaking, it wasn’t very significant. It’s like when you couldn’t stand up at first, I didn’t insist you had to stand before learning the next step. Didn’t you end up standing on your own later? It’s only in recent years, as skiing has become popular, that someone suddenly came up with a set process of what to do at each stage. It’s not that these are wrong; they do help build a solid foundation step by step—but it’s not the only way to learn… After all, when we first started skiing years ago, there was no such concept. We all just fumbled our way through.”
Shan Chong thought for a moment and added, “Even ‘carving’ is a term created later.”
“?”
“What we call ‘carving’ is an extreme edge riding technique. In English, it’s called ‘carving,’ which translates to ‘sculpting’ or ‘engraving.'”
“Carving?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that for alpine skiing?”
“It’s the same for snowboarding. Riding on edges is all called carving.”
A wave of useless cold knowledge.
The only useful point it brought was further solidifying Wei Zhi’s idea that “if a practice move doesn’t look good, don’t dwell on it, just skip to the next step—it won’t kill you.”
By now, the cable car had reached the mountaintop, and Little Bear hadn’t managed to insert another word throughout the journey.
As the cable car doors opened, Bei Ci was the first to exit, grabbing his board from the door. He sighed, “The richness of content during this cable car ride probably ranks in the top three of my skiing career.”
Wei Zhi passed by him, carrying her board.
She raised an eyebrow and gave him an expressionless look.
Bei Ci gave her a thumbs up: “We should let all those people outside who are guessing this and that ride in this cable car. The moment the doors open and close, they’d never have any more doubts about this matter.”
As I walked past the ski park halfway up the popular slope, I could see expert skiers soaring off the jumps beyond the safety nets. Beginners progressing to the intermediate level often paused there, watching in awe.
Lao Yan guided Wei Zhi down from the summit, meticulously correcting her technique. They descended one edge at a time as she was learning to transition between edges. Lao Yan’s patience with students was evident – his popularity wasn’t just due to his looks. He carefully pointed out issues with each edge transition.
Shan Chong’s group was ahead. As Wei Zhi passed the park, they had already started jumping. She saw her boyfriend gesturing at a nearby ramp, demonstrating the crouched take-off position and motioning towards the snowboard – likely explaining jump timing and board grabs.
Little Bear listened intently nearby. Soon after, she attempted a jump. Perhaps due to nerves, she didn’t get enough height. She rotated less than 90 degrees before falling.
Fortunately, she didn’t crash. Shan Chong, following on a snowboard, seemed to sense something was off at her take-off. He accelerated, caught her waist as she landed, and guided her to a stop with a quick turn. The maneuver left them pressed close together.
Wei Zhi, face against the net, had only managed an “Oh!” when Shan Chong caught Little Bear. Seeing they hadn’t fallen, she lowered her raised snowboard.
Beside her, Lao Yan paid no attention to the scene inside the park. He focused entirely on Wei Zhi, puzzled by her lack of reaction to her boyfriend’s closeness with another woman.
He leaned back against the net, half-reclining. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
The young woman turned from the net, looking at him in confusion.
“You know why outsiders say the snow circle is chaotic?” Lao Yan continued. “Apart from carving, the teaching process for various techniques involves intimate guiding touches that seem justified. It’s easy for people to develop special feelings… Like just now.”
“What about just now?” Wei Zhi asked.
“Your boyfriend had his hands on another woman’s waist.”
“If he hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen. The medium jump is quite high – a fall could mean ski patrol rescue. That would be awful.”
Her matter-of-fact tone made Lao Yan question if he was overthinking or misunderstanding the situation. Little Bear had been taunting Wei Zhi on the chairlift earlier, yet now Wei Zhi seemed unbothered. As someone who knew Little Bear better, was he out of line for commenting?
He pursed his lips, staring at Wei Zhi.
“So what if he touched her waist? It was just a touch,” she said. “If such a dangerous move is needed for a waist touch, haven’t I hit the jackpot sharing a bed with him without risking my life three times over?”
She rambled on as if reassuring him, “Could he fall head over heels for her just from touching her waist?”
“Well, you can’t say that-“
“He’s probably more enthralled by my waist,” Wei Zhi said confidently. “If touching through layers of thermal wear, protective gear, and ski clothes is so great, aren’t my pajamas wasted?”
Lao Yan fell silent for a moment.
Finally, he slid down the net a bit and couldn’t help saying, “When I was with Jiang Nanfeng, she’d often get angry seeing me teach on the slopes. She’d watch for a while, then we’d argue.”
“…”
“Then I’d say I wouldn’t teach anymore, which made her even angrier.”
“Well, saying you wouldn’t teach was just spite. Of course, she’d be angrier.”
“I could have stopped teaching.”
“Maybe for a day, but could you stop forever?” Wei Zhi asked curiously. “Besides quitting smoking or drinking, don’t promise a woman you’ll change your lifestyle. The moment you say it, you’re already lying because of its inevitable short-term nature. Who would believe that?”
Lao Yan considered arguing but realized she was right. He could stop teaching briefly, but not permanently. He relied on teaching for tuition fees and to build his reputation. After graduation, he’d likely work in a related field. He wouldn’t truly give up teaching.
So when would he resume after a temporary break? After breaking up with Jiang Nanfeng? Or admit he only kept his promise briefly?
He suddenly understood why Jiang Nanfeng got angry seeing him teach and even angrier hearing he’d stop.
“Lao Yan, I think you’re missing the point,” Wei Zhi said.
“What?”
“The issue isn’t whether you teach or not. Though intangible and invisible, there’s an aura between people… Why can I remain unmoved by Little Bear’s obvious intentions toward Shan Chong? Because I can’t sense any ripples from that pebble thrown in the water.”
“…”
“If they want to pay for lessons, let them,” Wei Zhi said. “At least the money goes to a good cause. Consider it their good deed.”
Lao Yan remained silent, pondering the “pebble” and “ripples” analogy.
Wei Zhi’s words carried the air of an empress declaring, “As long as I live, you all amount to nothing.”
Jiang Nanfeng, however, had always kept a close eye on him.
Similar situations, yet they handled them so differently. It was perplexing.
Wei Zhi turned to look at the young man seriously. “It’s not that I’m different from Jiang Nanfeng. It’s that you’re different from Shan Chong… Think about that yourself.”
…
For a long time, Wei Zhi had seemed naive and oblivious.
To 95% of outsiders, her ability to win Shan Chong’s heart and maintain a stable relationship seemed like the work of fate – an inexplicable red string of destiny.
Yet today, it felt like she had taught everyone a lesson.
She hadn’t said much, but it was as if she’d said everything.
After finishing lessons that day, Shan Chong followed behind Little Bear as they descended. They kept their distance, appearing as strangers by the time they reached the slope in front of the equipment hall.
At the top of the slope, Little Bear performed an ollie 360, locking her front edge to slide sideways for a bit. She glanced at Shan Chong as he approached.
Shan Chong noticed her but only gave a brief look through his goggles before heading straight for the equipment hall entrance.
Upon arrival, he bent down, removed his board, and flicked it up with his toe to carry. Just as he took off his goggles, he heard the sound of a snowboard edge behind him. Turning, he saw Little Bear stop not far from his feet.
He hesitated slightly.
By then, she had removed her board and approached, holding out her hand with a piece of candy she’d produced from somewhere. “Good work!” she said cheerfully.
Shan Chong considered for a moment. He had been debating whether to let the matter slide, but now, his fingers tapped on his snowboard. He said, “I have a girlfriend.”
Little Bear froze, uttering a surprised “Ah.”
“If you want to learn park riding, feel free to take lessons. You’re welcome to.”
The man lowered his eyes, struggling to find a polite way to phrase his thoughts. His dark eyes couldn’t hide his impatience, the emotion palpable and sharp.
“But if you’re going to play games and pull little tricks, I can’t take your money. You’ll have to find someone else.”
Pulling down his face mask, he took a slow breath. His cold demeanor was more biting than the evening chill on the slopes.
He calmly watched the beautiful woman’s smile fade, her face tightening – likely from embarrassment.
She was indeed very pretty. Shan Chong couldn’t understand why someone like her – who, despite being the butt of jokes in snow circle memes, skied decently and was attractive enough that no one would mock her to her face – wouldn’t stay in her admiring circle instead of pursuing him.
Little Bear removed her gloves and forced a smile. “What do you mean? I didn’t-“
“On the chairlift today, when you were talking about who teaches what, she didn’t seem very happy,” Shan Chong interrupted. “I’ll be the one in trouble later.”
“Chong-ge, being so cautious-“
“She has a bad temper, cries, and makes a fuss at the slightest provocation. Going along with her makes my life easier.”
As he spoke, the man raised his hand and placed the candy she had forced on him on a nearby railing. Adjusting his grip on the snowboard, he nodded politely to her and turned to leave.
He was still courteous, Little Bear thought, her face expressionless as she watched him walk away without looking back.
At least he hadn’t thrown the candy in the trash can just a meter away.
Polite yet distant, cold, and aloof.
Shan Chong was still the same untouchable, arrogant “Chong God” as ever. He hadn’t changed at all.
Through the equipment hall window, Little Bear saw a figure rush out in small steps and jump onto the man as he opened the door. He dropped his board and caught her bottom, letting her cling to him like a koala.
He turned his head to speak with her.
… Oh.
Except in front of one particular person, it seemed.