As they boarded the cable car again, this time only the three of them occupied it.

At first, an excessive silence filled the cabin.

Shan Chong turned his head, watching skiers stumble and fall on the snow-covered slopes outside.

Wei Zhi lowered her gaze, fidgeting with a small, mysterious hole in her glove.

Lao Yan leaned back, engrossed in his phone, possibly chatting with either sister A or sister B. An hour ago, Wei Zhi might have thought he was enjoying the conversation. Now, she only sensed an air of reckless indifference from him…

It was hard to say if it was truly self-destructive behavior.

Compared to his recent social withdrawal, he now seemed to be drinking normally, attending classes, and flirting with girls. It appeared as if everything had just returned to normal.

“Say something?” Shan Chong slowly turned his head back, looking at Lao Yan. “She hasn’t been in the V-stance for long, and she’s only practiced edge control for a few days before transitioning to forward skating. Why is her back-edge stance so stubbornly stuck in the V-position, unable to adjust?”

Lao Yan’s response was noticeably delayed. He shifted his gaze from his phone and pondered before answering, “Maybe she’s overthinking it. In reality, during high-speed skating, the power stance for both back and front edges is quite similar. If she keeps focusing on how to position her back edge and tuck in her hips, she’ll end up overthinking and struggling to perform well—”

“Is that all?” Shan Chong interrupted.

“What else? Although it’s basic skating, it’s still an advanced technique. You can’t expect someone to master ground carving turns in just half a month. That would be as absurd as attempting big air jumps after only two weeks of practice,” Lao Yan retorted.

“I asked you to point out the problem,” Shan Chong pressed.

“Didn’t you already identify the issue? Her stance is incorrect, her legs aren’t fully extended, and she’s not leaning enough. Why don’t you tell her yourself?” Lao Yan replied matter-of-factly, his tone imbued with a sense of fearlessness.

Shan Chong let out a derisive chuckle. “Am I teaching the class or are you?”

Lao Yan: “I don’t mind if you interject.”

Shan Chong: “Well, I do.”

Lao Yan: “Please don’t mind.”

Shan Chong: “Lao Yan.”

Lao Yan: “Yes?”

“If you’re in a bad mood, just say it. Who are you trying to impress with that forced smile? Anyone who doesn’t know better might think you’re acting in a TV drama, putting on such a tragic performance.”

Seated in the cable car, the man’s fingertips tapped idly on his thigh as he lifted his eyelids to glance at the young man sitting opposite him. “If you continue teaching like this, within a month, people will undoubtedly criticize you for being distracted during lessons, tarnishing your reputation.”

“…”

Wei Zhi looked out of the cable car, once again feeling the foolish urge to jump out.

She suspected Shan Chong had some sort of condition—yes, not just social superiority, but human superiority syndrome. How else could he say whatever came to mind without any hint of restraint?

With her face nearly pressed against the cable car window, Wei Zhi sincerely demonstrated through her actions that she, at least, wouldn’t be among those criticizing Lao Yan for being distracted during lessons…

As long as his teaching style didn’t become as intimidating as his master’s, it would be fine.

At this moment, having been called out by his master, the young man still tried to put up a strong front. He removed his snow goggles and said earnestly, “I’m not in a bad mood.”

“Oh, do you know who you reminded me of when you were teaching my wife just now?”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“…”

Wei Zhi pulled her face away from the cable car window and turned her head, looking bewilderedly at the two men engaged in this candid conversation. She couldn’t help but want to applaud her boyfriend’s surprising self-awareness.

In the face of the man’s direct dialogue, Lao Yan’s facial muscles twitched. He glanced at Wei Zhi, realizing there were indeed no outsiders in the cable car, and finally dropped his act—

That puppy-like face visibly darkened.

It was as if a golden retriever, who had been wagging its tail and grinning at its owner just a moment ago, suddenly drooped its ears and lowered its tail. With dark, glistening eyes, he looked at the man and asked, “Is it that obvious?”

Shan Chong didn’t even bother to answer the question.

At the Chongli ski resort, although he appeared to be an aloof deity who rarely acknowledged others or gave them a second glance, it didn’t mean he was truly indifferent to people or unable to read the room…

Earlier in the cable car, he might have been the only one who sensed his disciple’s mood was off from just a few words exchanged. That’s why he had followed them as soon as they got off the cable car.

Bei Ci’s habit of casually calling him “Aba” (father) when bored seemed like a curse. Day after day, he found himself not only teaching these brats how to jump on the slopes hands-on and ensuring their safety but also occasionally doing things only a real father would do…

Now his son was heartbroken, looking lost, and Aba had noticed it at a glance.

He was a qualified Aba indeed.

Perhaps that’s why, despite seeming like an emotionless skiing machine, Aba always had various people gravitating towards him.

“Try to see it from a different perspective,” he said. “There are plenty of things in this world that are meant to be but not meant to last.”

Lao Yan had already removed his helmet when he got on the cable car, and now he had taken off his snow goggles as well, holding the helmet in his arms. With nothing to hide behind, the two people sitting across from him could easily see his reddened eyes—

Shan Chong showed no reaction, maintaining his cold expression as he looked at him.

Wei Zhi felt as if she was sitting on a cactus, fidgeting uncomfortably with a tingling scalp. She deeply regretted not having done something humanitarian earlier, like sending Jiang Nanfeng to Xinjiang to prevent her from coming to Chongli.

“It’s not that I can’t see it that way,” Lao Yan paused, then continued, “Never mind, I really can’t see it that way.”

Wei Zhi’s lips twitched.

“How ‘meant to be but not meant to last’ do we have to be for a simple hoodie to become the catalyst that led us to this point today…”

Lao Yan thought for a moment, sniffled, and continued, “We’ve come this far, and still can’t be together… This must be some kind of karmic retribution like we smashed our heads in front of Buddha in our past lives just to exchange it for this brief, ill-fated encounter.”

Hearing his choice of words, Wei Zhi thought that the imagery of “smashing heads for a brief, ill-fated encounter” was quite vivid and three-dimensional.

Even as a creator herself, she might not have been able to come up with such emotionally charged dialogue in her comics.

While she was lost in thought, the man beside her remained calm, listening to the young man’s ramblings without interruption.

When he finished speaking, the man suddenly asked, “Did you cry?”

Lao Yan raised his hand, wiping his eyes forcefully with the sleeve of his snow jacket, then rubbed them again. “No!” he insisted.

Shan Chong responded with an “Oh,” his thin lips pressed together as he said coolly, “How impressive.”

Then he continued.

“I didn’t bring up this topic to confirm my suspicions. I just wanted to remind you that people who have left should be left in the past. Don’t keep looking back—”

As the man’s deep voice resonated, just as he said “Don’t keep looking back,” a “plop” sound interrupted his words.

A large drop of water fell onto the safety helmet’s club sticker in Lao Yan’s lap.

It’s worth noting that this was the first time in her life that Wei Zhi had seriously witnessed a man cry. She was so startled that she shifted in her seat, thinking desperately that she really couldn’t stay in this cable car any longer.

Don’t ask.

If you do, she’ll say she wants to jump.

Lao Yan glared with reddened eyes, his voice hoarse: “It’s easy for you to give advice when you’re not involved. What if it were you in this situation? If it were you, could you not look back at Xiao Shimei even once—”

“…”

Shan Chong turned his head and glanced at the young woman beside him.

At that moment, she was also looking at him expectantly, her lips slightly parted, appearing a bit lost.

“It’s different for me.”

Shan Chong stared into Wei Zhi’s eyes.

“It’s different because I would never walk away with my back turned to her.”

In a lazy yet natural and calm voice, the man told Lao Yan, “So there would never be a day when I’d need to look back to see her.”

The cable car fell silent for a few seconds.

Not just Wei Zhi, but even Lao Yan probably hadn’t expected the King of Hell to be capable of such touching words when it came to expressing affection.

Both stunned, Lao Yan broke down: “Is this how you comfort people?”

“I’m not trying to comfort you. I’m just telling you that what’s past is past, and looking back is pointless. Don’t teach your Shimu with that sour face. If she wants to see Grumpy teaching, wouldn’t it be better for her to watch me?”

Shan Chong said, then after a moment’s thought, he couldn’t help but ask sincerely, “Did you want me to comfort you? What’s wrong with you?”

If he knew how to comfort people, he wouldn’t be at a loss when dealing with his girlfriend who refused to cooperate in class, threw tantrums, and cried at the slightest provocation…

And Lao Yan wouldn’t have had to teach this miserable carving class.

If he couldn’t understand such simple logic, if he were Jiang Nanfeng, he’d want to break up with him too—

After all, it seemed that being with this person might affect the intelligence of future generations.

…

In the afternoon, Wei Zhi went back to change to a park board borrowed from Yanyan.

Because the carving class instructor had been emotionally crushed by her boyfriend’s few words, had become withdrawn, and could no longer put on a brave face.

In his current state, he was in no condition to teach, so she had no choice but to reluctantly follow her boyfriend into the terrain park.

Sitting in the cable car, Wei Zhi picked at the accumulated snow on her snowboard, gradually sensing something amiss: “Were you deliberately bullying Lao Yan?”

Shan Chong’s expression remained unchanged: “Why would I bully him?”

“Now that he’s gone, I have no choice but to follow you into the park.” The young woman looked up at him. “How can you be so malicious?”

It was just the two of them in the cable car.

Shan Chong stretched out his long legs and glanced at her, looking relaxed: “Aren’t you flying home the day after tomorrow? You might not come back until next year, and even then, you’ll probably be ready to end the season.”

Wei Zhi: “And then?”

Shan Chong spoke casually: “So I thought, why not record a video for you?”

Wei Zhi: “What?”

Shan Chong: “To commemorate my girlfriend’s first snow season. Show them how you’ve progressed from putting on a board to rolling around in the snow with me every day… Just to prove that I can teach beginners and that not being able to teach and not wanting to teach are two different things.”

Wei Zhi: “Your vanity…”

Wei Zhi: “Wait, show who? Where are you planning to post this video?”

Shan Chong raised an eyebrow: “Don’t you have hundreds of thousands of followers on Weibo?”

Wei Zhi realized this man had ulterior motives. Given how poorly she skied, he wanted her to embarrass herself in front of hundreds of thousands of people…

Wei Zhi: “…That won’t be necessary.”

Shan Chong: “Just post it, come on.”

Wei Zhi: “What’s wrong with you?”

Young snowboarders love to record videos, but Wei Zhi is different. She didn’t like it. Why? Because every day she watched Shan Chong jumping on the slopes, Bei Ci playing in the half-pipe, Lao Yan doing flatland tricks, and Lao Yan carving—

All of them were top-tier athletes in their respective disciplines.

Her aesthetic had been shaped to view “skiing like this is the standard,” surpassing her level. Sometimes, while lying in the cable car, she could even critique the people skiing below, noting who was bending at the waist or sticking out their butt…

But that didn’t prevent her inability to tuck in her backside.

At least when others stuck out their butts, their back edges could still touch the snow.

She wasn’t even at that level.

The reason she always went to the advanced K trail to practice in isolation was simply because the cable car didn’t pass over that route.

This way, others couldn’t see how poorly she skied.

“I don’t want to film,” she said, pouting her lips with genuine sincerity, not playing hard to get.

However, by then it was too late to resist. When she arrived at the park that afternoon, she found an unprecedented gathering of people. Everyone had come to witness Shimu’s graduation ceremony for the snow season.

…

As soon as they arrived, Shan Chong was shooed away, standing far off by the equipment. He looked exactly like a father who had been kicked aside after bringing his daughter to kindergarten, accused of interfering with the children’s socializing.

The man crouched alone on the side, and no one seemed to pity him. No one paid him any attention as he adjusted the filming equipment in his hands, focusing on his wife in the distance.

At that moment, Bei Ci was standing next to her, bending over to explain the movements—

As a self-taught instructor on the box, Bei Ci was even more nervous than her.

“Don’t ruin my reputation,” Bei Ci said with utmost seriousness. “If you fall, hundreds of thousands of people will know I’m a bad teacher. I won’t get any more students, I’ll starve to death, and I’ll have to beg for food and sleep outside your door.”

“…”

Wei Zhi hadn’t been nervous before.

But now, surrounded by so many people, she became anxious.

Standing at the starting point, she bounced on her board a bit, nervously looking back at Shan Chong. The man was sitting not far away on a chair, his camera pointed at her.

She turned back, set down her board, and stiffly performed a 50-50 on the box.

As someone who had already graduated from box tricks, this was a move she would normally disdain to do. But now, as she executed it, there was a slight tremor in her movement. She landed steadily, her heart in her throat.

As soon as she landed, she immediately turned around, searching for her boyfriend like a child looking for their parent.

However, her boyfriend wasn’t wearing his face mask at the moment, and she could see that his expression remained neutral… He just beckoned to her through the phone screen when he saw her turn back, indicating: Next move.

The atmosphere was tense for a moment.

Until Bei Ci, crouching next to the equipment, casually let out an “Oh,” looked at Wei Zhi, then back at the strict master, turned his head back, paused for three seconds, and suddenly let out an earth-shattering “Good!” The shout startled Yanyan, who was standing next to him, almost making her fall to the ground.

Bei Ci took the lead and started applauding enthusiastically—

In an instant, as if waking from a dream, the crowd followed suit, with Hua Yan as the second responder. A wave of cheers rose and fell.

…Making the truly earth-shattering fs cork 2520 that Shan Chong had silently performed earlier seem pitifully underwhelming in comparison.

Wei Zhi raised her hand to scratch her head, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or not. She saw the man holding the camera sway slightly behind his phone, probably curling his lips in a sneer.

The atmosphere in the park suddenly became lively because of a young girl doing a 50-50 on a box.

Some onlookers who didn’t know Wei Zhi or what was happening stood by with confused expressions, their faces clearly saying: Who am I? Where am I? What’s going on?

Bystander A: “What are those people doing?”

Bystander B: “I don’t know! Aren’t they from CK? I saw Bei Ci— So has the bar for CK dropped this low? What happened to China’s top 1 snowboard park? They’re applauding for a 50-50 on a box!”

Bystander A: “You’d think seals had invaded Chongli or something.”

As the two were engrossed in their animated discussion, they suddenly sensed that the atmosphere around them had changed.

Turning their heads, they found a man in all-black snow gear crouching beside them. His goggles hung from his elbow, face mask pulled down to his chin, and helmet placed by his feet. He was calmly looking at them with dark, tranquil eyes.

There was a brief moment of silent eye contact.

As their hair began to stand on end, the man smiled at them kindly and said, “I’m sorry, that’s my wife.”

Bystander A: “…”

Bystander B: “…”

Oh.

Shan Chong’s wife?

…Understood, understood.

Then it’s fine 🙂

…

Night.

In the mountaintop snow resort apartment.

Wei Zhi lay on the bed, playing with her phone.

The man came out of the bathroom after washing up, stood by her bed, and leaned down. His black hair dropped water droplets that fell on her face as he asked seriously, “Did you receive the video?”

The young woman responded lazily, unhurriedly raising her soft white hand to wipe the water droplets from her cheek. She lifted her eyelids to look at him and asked, “What video?”

Of course, it was the graduation video filmed that afternoon.

Shan Chong had just been in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet for ages without moving, working on this very thing. He had sacrificed several dozen minutes of healthy toilet time to edit the video for her—

Wei Zhi switched to WeChat, downloaded the video, and started watching it.

It began with the voice of an older man from Northeast China.

[Today, our Xifu’e Kindergarten has graduated (using the third tone for ‘bi’).]

She hadn’t realized that the video had started recording from when she was on the advanced slope, very humanely only including clips of her with standard, elegant snow-touching posture on her front edge…

Then there was a shot of her braking, steadily stopping at the park entrance, and bending down to remove her board.

Entering the park, wearing her face mask, with her eyes visibly smiling behind the goggles as she joined the crowd, talking to everyone.

[Inviting everyone to watch the kindergarten graduation performance.]

She stood on her board, ready to start.

Box 50-50.

Box boardslide backside out.

Rail 50-50.

Rail boardslide frontside out.

[Hmm, not bad at all.]

The camera cut to the original sound, with the spectators laughing and applauding thunderously. Bei Ci (with an arrow pointing to him and large white text noting: “A current provincial halfpipe professional team member”) let out that earth-shaking “Good!” with resounding force.

Then came a segment with “Good Days” as background music.

Amidst the festive music, the older man from Northeast China recited the video editor’s most sincere wishes—

[Everyone’s applause is thunderous, encouraging the wife to keep up the good work, to improve next year, to no longer scream when getting on rails, to tuck in her butt while carving, and to create new glories.]

Black screen.

[The snow circle is truly friendly, come join us.]

End of video.

Wei Zhi: “…”

Wei Zhi: “Is this a video that can be shared publicly?”

Shan Chong: “Why not? Hurry up and post it. I don’t have Weibo, so I’ll have Bei Ci supervise you later and livestream to see if anyone praises you.”

Wei Zhi: “…”

The teacher’s vanity had reached its peak.

Not only was he forcing her to post the video, but he was also going to check her “homework.”

Wei Zhi reluctantly posted it and then, unable to face the world, threw down her phone and went to take a shower—

When she came out of the bathroom and picked up her phone, she saw the “378” unread messages icon and felt a wave of dizziness.

The otaku author’s readers and the snow circle were two different groups of people, and everyone’s focus had completely derailed—

[Ahhhhhhh who’s calling you wife!]

[We were supposed to be single together, but you secretly got into a relationship.]

[Amazing, amazing, that snow-touching move is so cool!]

[The author isn’t cool, but that current halfpipe team member is handsome. From his enthusiastic applause, I can tell he must be your acquaintance. Contact info, please!!!]

[It’s official, it’s official.]

[Who’s official with whom?]

[Even an otaku can have a boyfriend, wuwuwuwu!]

…

Above, hundreds of comments omitted.

Wei Zhi quickly scrolled down and suddenly saw a comment from someone who was an innocent bystander based on their avatar—

[Wait, something doesn’t seem right. I’ve been following the author’s new series recently and searched for some skiing-related content on short video platforms. This video style… No way, right?!]

Wei Zhi: “…”

Her hand trembled, and she immediately deleted that comment.

She put down her phone, feeling too anxious to function normally.

The culprit was still beside her, feeling satisfied. He had Bei Ci check his girlfriend’s submitted “homework,” then bent down, leaned in, and kissed her peach-like cheek that was still fragrant and soft from her recent shower.

“Congratulations on graduating, wife. Happy New Year.”