How to Conquer a Beautiful Boss – Chapter 1, Section 2
Even whales, traversing the vast oceans, are small and insignificant beings. As the saying goes, “When a whale falls, a thousand creatures thrive.” Drifting with the currents, they ultimately perish alone in the ocean, silently becoming the stepping stones for once-overlooked plankton to open the doors to a boss’s heart.
With so many followers vying for a boss’s attention, how can you make them remember you? Everyone is confident in their appearance, but unless you’re an all-conquering icon like IU, never blindly assume you’re the top pick in your circle. The second-best often lacks memorable value.
Investing effort in self-improvement is both tiresome and time-consuming. So what should you do?
Give them a unique nickname or attach a special label they find interesting.
Shan Chong always bends down to adjust his bindings before taking off on a jump. Noticing this, Wei Zhi once stood behind him, filming and giggling, “A safety-obsessed, compulsive skier.”
Shan Chong uploaded that video to a short video platform with a voiceover in a Northeastern accent: “They say I’m safety-obsessed. What do you think, am I?”
The comments section is filled with “LOLs” and replies like: “You are! I find your caution adorable and want to live longer too.”
Combined with Shan Youmu’s stunning debut performance, no one ever again claimed Shan Chong was afraid to jump after falling.
Don’t ask; he’ll just say he values his life. Since he admitted it himself, what more could detractors say? He’s simply a cautious skier.
From then on, people at the park stopped asking, “Brother Chong, have you eaten?” Instead, they’d say, “Brother Chong, take it slow and careful, don’t fall!”
You see, this was the label Wei Zhi attached to Shan Chong. It made him memorable.
Now whenever Shan Chong enters the park and hears “Be careful, Brother Chong,” he’s reminded of Wei Zhi holding the camera, grinning as she calls him safety-obsessed.
He successfully thinks of his wife every time he gets on the slopes – more religiously than praying to Buddha.
The tricky part is striking the right balance. Three or four years ago, calling Shan Chong safety-obsessed would have angered him. But now he truly values safety, emphasizing it first in his lessons. His mindset has changed.
So “labeling” can easily shift from a “special tag” to a “nickname.” It’s crucial to understand the person’s temperament and sensitive points before attempting this.
Incidentally, Jiang Nanfeng uses this tactic too.
Lao Yan can’t remember the last time someone called him by his full name.
When it happened, no one reacted, unsure who was being addressed. Lao Yan, nearly twenty years old, hadn’t heard his full name since high school graduation.
The last time was when he was drunk, pestering her on the couch. Annoyed, she called out his full name. Lao Yan felt a rush, the alcohol suddenly concentrating at the top of his head. He thought, “Damn, that’s hot.”
As an adult, hearing one’s full name often carries a threatening tone. But hearing his girlfriend call it out with a mix of irritation and coyness was sweeter than celestial music.
Now, various people calling him “Lao Yan” don’t quicken his pulse. But hearing his full name reminds him of that drunken night when he transformed from a puppy to a wolf, pinning her down, their noses nearly touching…
Hearing those three syllables again, he lies there, reluctant to move. He feels Jiang Nanfeng kneeling beside him, one hand on her snow jacket, the other tugging at his, saying, “Get up first, the ground is cold.”
He wants to retort that his leg isn’t broken, but he swallows the words.
Lao Yan remains motionless on the ground. Jiang Nanfeng can’t budge him. With each of her efforts, he catches that familiar scent – not quite perfume, but unmistakable and pleasant…
Countless times when he held her, it seemed he too had absorbed that scent.
It’s truly intoxicating.
At that moment, he loses all shame and shakes off her hand, asking, “It’s bad enough you brought another man to make me jealous, but you had him crash into me too?”
Jiang Nanfeng had called out Jiang Chao’s name earlier, but the wind on the slopes was so strong that even when Lao Yan teaches Wei Zhi, he sometimes wants to use a walkie-talkie. He couldn’t hear clearly what she shouted, followed by rapid Cantonese cursing. Surrounded by people, Lao Yan couldn’t make out anything.
He recognized Jiang Nanfeng and saw her holding hands with that rich-looking guy, pushing him up the slope…
How long had it been since their breakup? And here she was, using what he once taught her to teach someone else, hand in hand.
He wanted to report her to the ski resort as an unlicensed private instructor and have them arrested. A fine wouldn’t be enough for this guy who had money to spare; he should write an 800-word self-criticism to make amends.
Hearing his sarcastic and seemingly hurt accusation, Jiang Nanfeng glanced at his face—
She noticed the man lying on the ground… usually so image-conscious, the type to quickly get up and look around after falling on the slopes to see if anyone noticed. Now he just lay there, covered in snow, motionless, staring at her, his clear eyes reflecting her figure.
Puppies have a knack for looking pitiful effortlessly. Jiang Nanfeng wasn’t heartless; she tugged at him again, about to explain, when someone pulled her away from behind.
Jiang Chao just loved to stir up trouble.
Moving his sister aside, he squatted next to the puppy-like man and said in a gruff voice, “Brother, don’t worry. I’ve called an ambulance. We’ll arrange a cozy ICU room for you… Relax, we won’t hit and run.”
…
In the end, Lao Yan managed to prop himself up, one arm hanging limply, and stubbornly skied to the equipment hall entrance.
Jiang Chao, carrying his board and walking down the snow, watched Lao Yan zip away. Amazed, he tugged at Jiang Nanfeng, saying, “He skis better with an injured arm than I do.”
“Skiing doesn’t require hands,” Jiang Nanfeng was exasperated. “He’s got over ten thousand followers on short video platforms for his skiing. Even with a lame leg, he’d jump better than you.”
“Why didn’t you introduce him to teach me back then?”
“Are you crazy?” At the equipment hall entrance, Jiang Nanfeng bent to remove her board. “Introduce my ex-boyfriend to teach you skiing?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
Jiang Nanfeng couldn’t be bothered to respond.
They followed the ambulance to the hospital. Jiang Chao drove his car behind it. At the hospital, they had to register and arrange examinations, creating momentary chaos. The emergency room staff seemed used to seeing people in ski gear brought in horizontally.
Indoors, as his blood circulation increased, Lao Yan’s initial act of playing dead turned into genuine pain, cold sweat beading on his forehead. They couldn’t administer medication before the test results came back. A young nurse on duty, seeing his youth and cute appearance, was willing to chat: “Does it hurt? If it hurts, bear with it. Did you fall on your own or did someone crash into you?”
Lao Yan just wanted to find Jiang Nanfeng’s “lover.”
Looking up and not seeing him, Lao Yan asked, “Where’s your lover?”
“I sent him away. If you have any questions, just ask me,” Jiang Nanfeng frowned, pushing down the man who was trying to do sit-ups on the stretcher despite his broken arm. “Watch your language. What is ‘lover’? Did university teach you to speak so crudely?”
“I learned that in elementary school.”
Lao Yan then asked the nurse if he could get a painkiller, as his wrist was burning with pain.
Hearing him mention pain, Jiang Nanfeng stopped scolding and sat down beside him, biting her lip. Before long, even quicker than the hospital’s various test results, Lao Yan’s disciples arrived.
Jiang Nanfeng felt like half the freestyle skiers from the upper slope had come. Young women of various looks and styles suddenly crowded the emergency observation room. The kind nurse who had chatted with Lao Yan was stunned, making sounds of protest that went completely ignored.
Lao Yan watched as Jiang Nanfeng was pushed to the outside by the crowd.
He frowned, about to tell his disciples not to push. But as the words reached his lips, he glanced at his ex-girlfriend nearby. She stood cold-faced, unmoved by being pushed aside, not angry or anxious – just like when they stood outside her office building a while ago.
She had her hands in her pockets, looking indifferent as she proposed breaking up.
These past few days, he had almost become her lap dog. If not for the occasional like on his freestyle skiing videos on WeChat, he’d have suspected she had deleted him as a friend.
… The lap dog approach was useless.
With this thought entering his mind, Lao Yan decided to lie back and rack his brains for a new strategy…
During this time, he allowed his disciples to fuss over him. When someone asked if he was in pain, he’d answer with a smile, sounding like a master comforting his disciples: “It’s nothing, Master doesn’t hurt.”
He even switched to the third person.
The surroundings fell silent for a few seconds.
Usually, Lao Yan doesn’t scold people in class, appearing gentlemanly and harmless. But those who’ve taken his specialized freestyle classes know his temper isn’t necessarily that good. It’s fine if someone learns a move slowly, he’ll break it down and explain it over and over. But if they still make mistakes after that, he’ll scold them:
“Where are you looking?”
“Which edge are you landing on?”
“When I was explaining earlier, were your ‘uh-huh’ just lip service?”
“Did you understand what I just said? Fine, come to the side of the slope and repeat everything I’ve just explained.”
… And so on.
He’s not any gentler than Shan Chong.
At this moment, the person who asked the question didn’t expect Lao Yan’s sudden gentle attitude, as if he was speaking to someone else. She hesitated—
The speaker was a short girl, about the same height as Wei Zhi, likely a college student at most. She wore a teddy bear hood and dark brown overalls, the cute type. Completely different from Jiang Nanfeng.
Leaning on Lao Yan’s bedside, she blinked slowly, uttered an “Oh,” and glanced at his hand, swollen like a pig’s trotter, resting on the bed. She said, “Master, your hand… Do you need to stay in the hospital? It looks serious. You’ll probably have to be admitted, right? How did this happen? My home is in Zhangjiakou, so it’s convenient for me. If you need anything while you’re in the hospital—”
“I don’t need anything,” Lao Yan interrupted, glancing at Jiang Nanfeng outside the crowd. She was looking down at her phone—
How did he know she was on her phone? Because the sound of Ice Fruit Blast was distinctly audible.
Seeing the woman nearby, head lowered, mask hanging from one ear, her upturned nose and pale lips displaying complete indifference…
It was as if she hadn’t heard or seen the flock of admirers around Lao Yan.
Lao Yan’s anger flared.
Gritting his back teeth, he felt this woman was truly heartless.
Feeling utterly wronged but unable to show it on his face, he couldn’t believe Jiang Nanfeng had no desire to fight. He said, “If I do stay in the hospital, the food here isn’t great. Could you bring me meals? I’ll pay you 100 yuan per day—”
Teddy Bear Girl: “Huh?”
Lao Yan pressed his lips together, forcing a smile: “Your former ‘teacher’s wife’ is here. Just ask her about my dietary restrictions. I’m feeling dizzy now, might have a concussion, so I should rest and talk less—”
When he mentioned “concussion,” Jiang Nanfeng glanced up.
The girl turned and went to ask her about Lao Yan’s diet. Jiang Nanfeng didn’t even look at the girl properly, her expression as calm as if a stranger on the street had asked her to fill out a survey. She thought for a moment, then said without hesitation: “I think it’s lamb, offal, and chicken feet.”
She answered completely and without reservation.
No resistance. No omissions.
Her face even bore a flawless smile.
After speaking, her finger swiped, and she cleared the current level with three stars.
“…”
Lao Yan fell back onto the hospital bed.
His chest heaved dramatically.
At this point, he’d rather stare at the ceiling than watch her provoke him.
…
About an hour after Lao Yan was admitted to the hospital.
Wei Zhi and Shan Chong were in the mountain park. Wei Zhi was riding her Nitro board, with Shan Chong pulling her hand-in-hand over a rail.
The board’s base scraped against the metal rail, producing a grating sound, far from the satisfying dull thud of an edge carving into snow.
Wei Zhi, her hand still in the man’s grasp, looked up and asked, “When will my Mach arrive?”
Shan Chong’s lips curled into a grin behind his face mask, revealing white teeth. Just as he was about to speak, someone entered the park entrance, saying they’d heard about an accident down the mountain—a newbie had crashed into a freestyle skiing expert.
Wei Zhi and Shan Chong exchanged glances.
Shan Chong released Wei Zhi and took out his phone.
The young girl jumped off the rail with a “thud,” still wearing her snowboard. She peered at the man’s phone screen, tiptoeing, and saw messages in a group chat saying the unfortunate victim was Lao Yan.
They didn’t even change out of their ski clothes, jumping straight into Shan Chong’s car to head to the hospital.
As they left, Shan Chong, bending to start the car, said: “How come we’re so involved with hospitals this year?”
Arriving at the hospital room, they saw it filled with people, and Jiang Nanfeng sitting by Lao Yan’s bed, head down, peeling an apple. She finished peeling and popped a piece into her mouth, looking up calmly when they entered, as if she were just a passerby from another room who’d come in for a bite of apple.
Shan Chong changed his tune: “Even this collision—it must be fate.”
Wei Zhi focused on the thick atmosphere of conflict in the room, more pungent than disinfectant.
Gifts from well-wishers surrounded Lao Yan’s bed, and Jiang Nanfeng was eating an apple that some girl had brought.
“Wrist fracture,” she said. “The doctor says surgery isn’t necessary, just a cast and conservative treatment.”
Shan Chong leaned closer to Lao Yan and asked, “Does it hurt?”
Lao Yan glanced at Jiang Nanfeng, his eyes red, and said, “It hurts.”
“Is your hand attached to her body?” Shan Chong asked. “Why are you looking at her?”
“Have some sympathy, the bone is fractured! Go ask Ada, I was thrown into the net when I got hit!” Lao Yan raised his voice, then, realizing he seemed too energetic, quickly lowered it. “I can’t even speak loudly without pain now.”
Shan Chong snorted derisively.
He looked as if he couldn’t be bothered to engage.
At that moment, a nurse came in to inform Lao Yan that a report was ready for collection at the radiology department. Jiang Chao had long since disappeared, and Jiang Nanfeng, looking around, decisively stood up and walked out.
As soon as she left, Shan Chong said to Lao Yan: “Stop staring, your eyeballs are about to fall out.”
After a pause, he added: “The price you’re paying to stay connected to your ex-girlfriend is pretty high.”
“She brought a man to crash into me first,” Lao Yan mumbled. “Now she’s been left behind, and that guy, whether he’s jealous or what, has vanished. He was talking about taking responsibility earlier, but I guess seeing Jiang Nanfeng so worried about me, he disappeared as soon as we got to the hospital. Out of sight, out of mind? I didn’t even get a good look at him—but isn’t it good? Serves him right for crashing into me…”
Wei Zhi: “Hmm.”
Lao Yan turned to Wei Zhi: “What’s your brilliant insight?”
Wei Zhi: “That man you say Jiang Nanfeng brought to crash into you? Whether you end up with Jiang Nanfeng or not, he’ll probably be sitting at the same table as you for New Year’s Eve dinner.”
Lao Yan: “?”
Wei Zhi: “That’s her brother, you idiot.”
As Lao Yan froze in bewilderment, Shan Chong started laughing, his eyes crinkling above his mask, shoulders shaking. After a while, he propped his elbow on the hospital bed: “Remember when I asked if you’d teach a 5000-yuan-per-hour slope lesson, and you said no? Then we told you Jiang Nanfeng was coming to Chongli. How did you not connect the dots? A 5000-yuan beginner lesson, and Jiang Nanfeng appearing at the same time—”
Lao Yan was stunned.
Wei Zhi sympathetically said: “That is a bit hard to guess.”
“It was your brother-in-law who crashed into you. Accept it. Stop pretending to be sick, get a cast, and check out tomorrow. Does hanging your arm prevent you from doing a nollie 540?” Shan Chong glanced at him. “Men who lie never end well.”
Wei Zhi raised an eyebrow at his words, about to praise his high awareness.
Just then, Shan Chong’s phone rang. He looked at it and answered. It was a young girl’s voice, speaking indistinctly. Shan Chong just responded with “Oh” and “Ah” twice, then hung up.
He looked up at Wei Zhi: “I can’t go back with you for New Year’s this year.”
Wei Zhi: “…”
Wei Zhi: “Do you remember what we were doing when you voluntarily brought this up, and what promise you made?”
Wei Zhi: “Besides, we’ve already bought the tickets.”
Shan Chong: “We can refund them.”
Wei Zhi: “What did you say in that sentence just now?”
Shan Chong: “That I won’t accompany you home for New Year’s?”
Wei Zhi: “The sentence before that.”
Shan Chong: “Men who lie never end well.”
Wei Zhi: “Good that you know.”
Shan Chong: “…”
Shan Chong: “My mom wants me to go home for New Year’s.”
Wei Zhi took out her phone: “Give me Wang Xin’s WeChat. I’ll ask him if it’s still possible to ‘run away’ now.”