Through the glass, Little Bear, standing outside in the cold wind, couldn’t hear the intimate conversation between Chong God and his girlfriend:
“What were you talking about with her outside?”
“I told her to focus on lessons and not think about other things.”
“I saw her give you something.”
“Candy.”
“Where is it?”
“Left it outside.”
“Why didn’t you throw it in the trash? Is the hand that touched that girl’s waist broken?”
“Because it would’ve been impolite. Are we playing 20 questions now?”
The man turned his face slightly, his breath brushing her cheek as he spoke. He had just come in from outside, carrying the familiar scent mixed with ice and snow. His ski suit was chilly. She hugged his neck and kissed the corner of his lips, her almond-shaped eyes sparkling as she looked at him.
Shan Chong put her down. As he bent to pick up his snowboard, she quickly moved closer, holding her board with one hand and hugging his arm with the other. He glanced down at her: “Spying on me teaching others?”
“I was just passing by.”
As he tried to pull his arm away, she held on tightly, smiling, “You know how bad the snow was on that advanced run past the park this afternoon? And there’s that long flat section after. I’d have to be crazy to go that way if I wasn’t specifically passing by.”
People often said the ski resort owner favored skiers over snowboarders. The resort had two busy runs connected to the main slope by long, flat beginner sections. The longest was about a kilometer with barely any incline. Skiers could easily glide across, but snowboarders had to build up speed or end up walking shamefully if they fell or stopped.
The afternoon crowds had left the snow in poor condition. Usually, snowboarders avoided those runs at such times.
Shan Chong considered her explanation reasonable.
“Oh, just passing by. Then you got jealous because I held someone’s waist?” he said casually. “If I hadn’t caught her, she might’ve been injured and demanded compensation.”
“I know,” she replied, still clinging to his arm as they walked. “That’s why I didn’t burst in there demanding to know what you were doing. I just wanted to hear you explain it yourself. What’s wrong with that?”
“Not explaining means something fishy?”
“No,” Wei Zhi smiled slightly. “Hearing you explain makes me happy. Training is so tiring, and not improving is frustrating. Can’t I find a little joy?”
The man paused for three seconds, grasping the key point. “Not improving again?”
“What do you mean ‘again’? Watch your words… Lao Yan said if you could easily do ground-touching carving turns in a week or two, what was he doing for the past few years?”
“You believe what that scumbag says?”
“Sure,” Wei Zhi said. “Such comforting words, why wouldn’t I believe them? It doesn’t hurt to believe.”
“Haven’t I comforted you before?”
“You have,” Wei Zhi said. “‘Not improving again’ implies it’s normal for me not to improve. Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“…”
The man chuckled softly, good-naturedly pinching her cheek.
Just then, they passed the ski school. The door opened, and a bear-like figure emerged. He immediately recognized the couple despite their masks and exclaimed, “Oh, it’s the ‘Mountain Has Wood’ player!”
Shan Chong glanced up to see the burly ski instructor who had woken him from his nap months ago to teach two hopeless beginners.
“‘Mountain Has Wood’ player,” the instructor said, “Are young people nowadays using such memes as nicknames to publicly announce they’re henpecked?”
“It’s not just any young person who can make something like this well-known,” Shan Chong replied calmly, grabbing Wei Zhi’s face. “Say hello.”
“…” Wei Zhi thought for a moment. “Brother.”
Shan Chong released her, slightly displeased: “Why do you call everyone ‘brother’?”
“Should she call me ‘uncle’ instead? I’m only in my early thirties, I can still be someone’s brother,” the instructor said. “Speaking of which, I’m kind of the matchmaker for you two. A simple ‘brother’ isn’t too much to ask, right? You could even bow to me in gratitude.”
“Sure,” Shan Chong said without blinking, “You can sit at the head table at our wedding. I don’t mind if you want to officiate too.”
“…”
Used to Shan Chong’s sarcasm, the instructor turned to Wei Zhi, looking her up and down. “Fate is unstoppable, isn’t it? Back then, you were a complete beginner without even a ‘turtle shell,’ innocently asking for a snowboard instructor at the ski school. I went to find Chong, and he was so reluctant—”
“I was napping. I had just woken up,” Shan Chong interjected.
“After he got up, he spent forever choosing between you and that other girl, like picking vegetables. He chose you!”
Wei Zhi remembered this. The instructor continued, “I asked him why he chose you!”
Shan Chong suddenly turned his head, staring intently at the instructor.
[More meat on her bones, good personality, can take falls. Don’t want to deal with someone fussy.]
The instructor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled: “He said you looked good-tempered and cute.”
The intense gaze disappeared from Shan Chong’s face.
“Time flies, doesn’t it? It hasn’t been that long, and now you’re—”
He turned his head again, meeting the gaze of the young woman who was eagerly waiting for him to finish. His eyes landed on the snowboard in Wei Zhi’s hand, and he paused. “Now you can carve?”
He turned a puzzled look towards Shan Chong.
Back when everyone heard Shan Chong had taken on a beginner student, they were shocked. Wei Zhi had felt discouraged then, and now Shan Chong felt the same way.
Isn’t it funny how the tables turn?
He glumly glanced at the instructor: “You have to try everything to know what’s best.”
Sensing the reluctance in the air, the instructor quickly changed the subject: “What about that other girl? I heard she and Lao Yan got together?”
“They did. It’s over now.”
“Wow, that was fast.”
“Yep, standard speed for Lao Yan.”
Wei Zhi listened to their casual chat, noticing how they gave Lao Yan no face, even though his recent video captions suggested he was deeply in love with someone unattainable.
For example: “When I was young, I lost my beloved teddy bear. I didn’t look for it then. When I grew up and wanted to find it, it was gone forever.”
The video content was just him doing various snowboard tricks like drive spins and owens executed flawlessly.
These videos got even more likes than his previous ones. It seemed many people bought into his inexplicable style.
Wei Zhi was puzzled and checked the posting time of his videos – 3 AM. Seeing that time when people often feel inexplicably depressed, she was almost inclined to believe that a straight man posting such original, melancholic content in the middle of the night might genuinely be expressing his feelings.
Unfortunately, when she shared this thought, Shan Chong laughed. A derisive, mocking laugh.
It was like a modern retelling of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.”
…
As everyone knows, in “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” the wolf eventually does come.
On the third day of “Mountain Has Wood” going viral, at breakfast, Wei Zhi kicked Shan Chong under the table: “Want to teach another beginner?”
“No,” Shan Chong replied without hesitation. “Thinking back to when I taught you – getting your board, helping you put it on, putting on your boots – I wonder if I was possessed.”
Wei Zhi looked at her phone: “He said you can name your price.”
Shan Chong raised an eyebrow: “5,000 yuan an hour to learn how to slide?”
Wei Zhi typed on her phone, then looked up and said he agreed.
Initially disinterested, Shan Chong now sensed something was off. He reached across the table and took Wei Zhi’s phone. The screen showed a chat with someone called “Jiang Chao,” clearly a man from the profile picture.
Wei Zhi had conveyed his words accurately:
[Little Chick: 5,000 yuan an hour to learn how to slide? Are you the God of Wealth?]
[Jiang Chao: OK, ask him when he’s free.]
[Little Chick: ???? What do you mean ‘ok’?]
Then Shan Chong took the phone, and as he was looking at the screen, a new message appeared:
[Jiang Chao: Consider it an early New Year’s red envelope from Big Brother to Little Zhi. Let your boyfriend use the lesson fee to buy you candy.]
As if the phone had suddenly become hot, Shan Chong pushed it back across the table to his girlfriend. After a long pause, he said, “Is there anyone normal around you besides Jiang Nanfeng?”
Wei Zhi: “Jiang Nanfeng counts as normal?”
“Compared to ‘buying candy,’ yes.” The man leaned back, crossing his arms. “Anyway, I won’t teach beginners. Two grown men holding hands to slide down a slope without boards? Uncomfortable. Tell him to find a resort instructor. They’ll provide equipment, help with boots, and teach sliding, all without complaint.”
He paused
as if remembering something: “Who is this guy? Jiang Nanfeng’s brother?”
“How did you know?”
“They have the same surname. It can’t be her father.”
“Her older brother.”
“Is he coming?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What about Jiang Nanfeng?”
“Probably coming too.”
Wei Zhi glanced at Shan Chong. If it were someone else’s boyfriend asking so much about a female friend, they might become suspicious. But she wouldn’t. She just stared at her boyfriend for a while and said, “Don’t get any ideas. She’s happy with her figure skating. She won’t learn park riding with you. She says she’s saving her ribs for a nose job when she’s older.”
Shan Chong didn’t respond, just awkwardly shifted his posture, caught off guard by having his little scheme exposed. “I just wanted to see if she could do it.”
Well, if you found a wild lion that naturally knew how to jump through fire hoops, wouldn’t anyone want to see if it could tap dance too? Nothing wrong with that.
Wei Zhi rolled her eyes.
Seeing her unwillingness to engage, Shan Chong didn’t press further. It was clear he had just asked casually. Just then, Lao Yan sauntered in, eyes glued to his phone.
The man glanced back at the sound, then turned to face his girlfriend as Lao Yan sat down next to them.
That expressionless face…
Sharing a bed every night had its perks. Wei Zhi found she could read her boyfriend’s hidden thoughts even when his face betrayed nothing.
“Send one of Lao Yan’s videos to that guy, ask if he likes it,” Shan Chong said. “Tell him figure skating basics are enough for simple jumps, but park riding is harder. It’s better to learn figure skating first for a good foundation.”
Lao Yan, who had just grabbed breakfast, looked up confused.
Shan Chong: “Want to teach a beginner?”
Wei Zhi: “…”
Talk about stealing someone’s thunder.
Lao Yan blinked, thought for a moment, and then said lifelessly, “No.”
Shan Chong: “5,000 yuan an hour.”
Lao Yan: “Are you crazy? 5,000 to learn how to slide? … Actually, forget it. If word got out, I’d be accused of profiteering… Who’s this loaded anyway?”
Shan Chong: “Why ask if you won’t teach?”
Shan Chong: “By the way, maybe stay in for the next few days.”
Lao Yan: “Why?”
Shan Chong: “Jiang Nanfeng is coming.”
Shan Chong: “I’m worried you’ll forget how to do an ollie 180 if you see her on the slopes.”
Shan Chong: “That’d be embarrassing.”
Lao Yan: “…”
Wei Zhi expected Lao Yan to lash out at Shan Chong, but he just fell silent, asked when Jiang Nanfeng was arriving, and then seriously started looking at flights to Xinjiang.
Wei Zhi: “…”
Wei Zhi: “You’re something.”
…
Without Wei Zhi saying anything, Lao Yan had no idea when Jiang Nanfeng would arrive.
The next few days dragged on for him. He didn’t dare teach, fearing he might be caught hand-in-hand with a student practicing edge control. He felt he’d never live it down, even if he jumped into the Yellow River.
On the slopes, he’d startle at anyone with a similar height and build, only relaxing when he realized it was probably just a beginner who couldn’t ski well.
But as they say, accidents happen when you least expect them.
One clear day, Lao Yan was carving down the mountain. On the intermediate-advanced run, he started doing freestyle tricks. He had just landed an Owen when he spotted a woman at the edge of the run, teaching a man how to slide on his back edge.
The man glanced over, having seen Lao Yan’s jump. He turned to his instructor and said something – probably “I want to learn that too.” The woman harshly slapped his hand.
Lao Yan only gave them a cursory glance. She wore a hoodie under a vest, had blue-dyed hair, and wore a soft helmet. Probably some girl teaching her boyfriend.
He had let his guard down these past few days and didn’t pay much attention. He immediately did a 720 drive spin – a top-tier trick in China – spinning like a top in mid-air before landing smoothly and skiing away.
Halfway down, another freestyler recognized him and asked to see a Nollie 360.
“Start on your back edge, look uphill, lean your upper body towards the nose of the board, then spin—” Lao Yan diligently explained.
A Nollie 360 was as easy as breathing for him.
Just as he was about to spin on his back edge, he glanced back and saw a figure zooming towards him!
He never expected to encounter a “torpedo” on an intermediate run without a magic carpet. He froze for a moment, trying to dodge, but the person was tall and fast on their snowboard. Before he could react, “BAM!” – he was sent flying.
Airborne.
Landing in the nearby safety net.
Like a flying fish.
Lao Yan was lean and didn’t bulk up at the gym like Shan Chong. The collision left him momentarily dazed. He crawled out of the net, feeling like his whole body had been shattered.
Especially his left wrist, which seared with pain at the slightest movement.
Frowning, he looked at the person beside him—
Decked out in expensive Mine77 gear. Flashy, but pricey.
A beginner who couldn’t even brake, yet wore top-of-the-line gear worth tens of thousands, riding their board. All show, no skill…
It felt like being hit by a Ferrari on the street, and then watching the driver browse luxury car apps while waiting for the police.
Lao Yan sat there motionless. Soon, a crowd gathered.
The first to approach was the guy who had asked for the Nollie 360. He bent down, asking if Lao Yan was okay. Lao Yan tried to say he was fine and stand up, but every pore in his body screamed in pain.
His left hand was immobile.
He could only prop himself up with his right hand.
Frowning, he started feeling embarrassed and irritated. He wanted to ask if the person who hit him was insane. Not holding back, he turned and said to the bulky figure also lying there: “Seriously, man, what’s wrong with you? If you can’t break, go learn on the magic carpet area—”
The person slowly got up, apologizing.
Lao Yan irritably removed his goggles and face mask with his right hand.
The person who hit him took off their board and got up, offering to take the young man to the infirmary or hospital and take full responsibility. But when their eyes met, there was a noticeable pause.
At this point, Lao Yan was still confident. He assumed the person’s hesitation was from recognizing him from short videos. Seeing their apparent struggle for words, he waved his hand, about to say that being a celebrity didn’t mean he had extra limbs to break or deserved double compensation, so why worry…
But before he could speak—
“Jiang Chao!”
The crowd parted as a girl in a hoodie and vest, wearing a trendy soft bucket hat instead of a proper helmet, with blue-dyed hair, pushed her way through, cursing—
“Are you out of your mind? What’s wrong with you? Damn!”
Her Cantonese curses lacked impact, and her voice wasn’t particularly intimidating. She approached the expensively dressed person and switched to Mandarin—
“I told you straight-lining down a run makes you look like an idiot! Are you deaf or what? Why charge like that? Do you know what they call people like you? There’s a special term in ski resorts for you overconfident fools – ‘torpedoes.’ You’re the biggest one. If they’d dropped you on Hiroshima back then, Japan would be missing a chunk on the map today!”
After her tirade, she struggled to pull the person up.
Only then did she remember the innocent victim. Turning around to apologize—
She met the shocked, pupils-dilated gaze of the other person.
Jiang Nanfeng: “How is it you?”
As soon as she spoke, she saw her former boyfriend, who had been sitting up in confusion, suddenly lie back down.
Jiang Nanfeng: “?”
Jiang Nanfeng: “Why did you lie down? Where did he hit you? Zhao Keyan, where does it hurt?”
Lao Yan didn’t respond.
Jiang Chao peeked out from behind: “I thought he looked familiar. We did hit someone we know—”
Jiang Nanfeng wanted to slap him.
She didn’t have time to deal with the person behind her. Bending down, she reached out to Lao Yan, but he turned his head and shrugged off her hand, not caring about the onlookers. He grumbled, “My hand hurts. It might be broken.”