Lao Yan set down his tray and noticed Tali Chong. One hand deftly tapped his phone screen while the other shoveled food into his mouth with a spoon.
His movements were swift and precise. Even eating absentmindedly, an attractive person remained captivating.
Bei Ci approached from behind, peering over Lao Yan’s shoulder. He made a face and nudged Lao Yan’s knee. “What’s going on?”
“Eating while texting someone,” Lao Yan replied. “What else?”
“You don’t understand. My master probably joined some etiquette team during his national team years. He used to scold me for using my phone while eating. Back then, we called him Father Chong. Even my dad wasn’t that strict… uh.”
Chong glanced up briefly, and Bei Ci promptly shut his mouth.
The chatty duo set down their trays and sat across from Chong.
Bei Ci: “Master, this afternoon at the park…”
Chong: “Not going.”
Bei Ci wailed: “Why not?”
Chong: “Busy.”
Bei Ci and Lao Yan exchanged glances.
Lao Yan spoke up, his tone deliberately casual: “Chong-ge, who are you texting?”
Chong: “Should I send you next month’s water meter reading? Since you’re so concerned about my business, maybe you’d like to be the father instead.”
Lao Yan responded with an “Oh,” then turned to Bei Ci and spoke rapidly: “He’s texting a girl. Given that Chong-ge only has one or two female disciples, and they all act like rabbits seeing a wolf around him, especially during lunch, I can deduce it’s probably the newbie he’s been teaching these past couple of days.”
Bei Ci: “Who?”
Lao Yan, expressionless: “The current owner of your little turtle butt cushion.”
Bei Ci: “Oh!”
Across the table, Chong didn’t even bother to look at them. He calmly set down his phone and spoon, picked up his chopsticks, and focused on selecting pieces of fish from the chopped chili fish head dish before him.
The two across from him, apparently not very hungry, seemed more interested in bantering:
Bei Ci: “Master never gave any female disciple a butt cushion before. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it, right?”
Lao Yan: “Maybe he’s developed a more compassionate heart in middle age. And it’s not just the cushion. I saw him with the cushion owner on the ski slope today. Guess what?”
Bei Ci: “What?”
Lao Yan fell silent, took out his phone, opened WeChat, and sent a photo to a certain group.
Chong’s phone, face-up beside his hand, lit up as Lao Yan sent an image to his disciples’ group chat.
Suddenly, the usually quiet lunchtime group exploded with activity.
Notifications chimed incessantly.
Around the cafeteria, people paused mid-meal, dropping their chopsticks and craning their necks to stare in shock at their table.
…Chong couldn’t recall ever streaking down a ski slope, let alone being caught by Lao Yan (.).
Across the table, Bei Ci gaped at the image, mouth agape in astonishment.
Chong finally abandoned his attempt at a peaceful meal and reached for his phone—
Oh.
It wasn’t anything too outrageous.
Just a photo of him kneeling on the advanced C slope, one hand steadying a young woman’s snowboard, the other adjusting the bindings.
Chong locked his phone with a click and spoke evenly, feigning confusion at their overreaction: “What’s the matter?”
Bei Ci clutched his face, pulling it dramatically: “What’s the matter?! You ask what’s the matter?!”
Chong: “Yes, what’s the matter?”
Bei Ci: “In all my years, you’ve never helped me put on my board!!”
Chong: “…The mountain’s been windy lately. She’s a beginner, clumsy with gloves on, and taking them off to put on the board could lead to frostbite.”
Bei Ci: “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t care about your weak excuses! I’m going to throw a fit!”
Chong pushed his unfinished fish towards his two disciples, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and addressed the tantrum-throwing disciple without even raising an eyebrow: “I wasn’t explaining myself to you.”
“Do you help her put it on every day?!”
“It’s been very cold these past few days. Today, there’s freezing rain.”
“…”
Bei Ci clutched his chest and fell dramatically into Lao Yan’s arms, who stroked his head affectionately.
While comforting Bei Ci, Lao Yan couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire: “Let me tell you something even more terrifying. How long did it take you to learn to stand up on your while skiing?”
Bei Ci: “About an hour after successfully putting on the board.”
Lao Yan: “The turtle butt cushion owner still can’t do it after three days. Is it because she hasn’t learned? No, it’s because your master barely taught her. He just said ‘forget it’ and started helping her up—today on the advanced slope, the girl stumbled and fell, and he diligently helped her up the entire time.”
Bei Ci: “…”
Bei Ci looked at Chong.
Chong lowered his eyes: “There’s no rush. Her leg strength is weak, and as a beginner, she can’t control the edges well. Forcing her to learn won’t help… When she has better board control later, she’ll be able to stand up without being taught.”
Bei Ci: “That’s not what you said when I was learning! You said if I couldn’t stand up on my own, I was useless!”
Chong: “What else? Are two grown men constantly pulling each other up on the ski slope? How unseemly would that be?”
Bei Ci: “…”
Bei Ci: “Ah! Don’t say anymore! Besides the standing-up thing! What about when I had to jump from the eight-meter platform? When I was too scared to jump, you just stood there, made me recite the movement instructions ten times, and then told me to close my eyes and jump! You said you’d cover the funeral costs if I died!!!”
Lao Yan: “Tsk tsk, how cruel!”
Bei Ci: “Wuwu, so cruel!”
Outside the WeChat group, Bei Ci wailed dramatically.
Inside the group, Chong’s disciples (both male and female) bombarded the chat with question marks.
One of the few female disciples was particularly distraught—
[sakura, Yan: I’ve always told myself that Master is so harsh on me because he has gender recognition issues.]
[sakura, Yan: So he doesn’t know how to be gentle with women.]
[sakura, Yan: ……………Turns out I was the clown all along.]
Bei Ci, still lying in Lao Yan’s arms, quickly typed a string of “hahahahaha” in the group chat.
Then, putting down his phone and maintaining his sorrowful expression, he struggled to ask the stoic man across from him: “Add her to the group chat! I want to see what this little enchantress looks like, the one who can make my master kneel to put on her board for three days straight!”
Chong gave him a strange look: “Why would I add her to the group?”
Bei Ci: “Is she being kept as a secret lover?”
Chong: “The group is for disciples.”
Bei Ci: “Isn’t she one?”
Lao Yan interjected: “Maybe she’s a master’s wife candidate.”
Chong calmly looked at him, and he immediately fell silent, miming zipping his lips.
Chong’s gaze returned to Bei Ci, showing a rare hint of hesitation: “Not really?”
Bei Ci: “…You taught her everything from putting on the board to pushing off, and gave her her first set of protective gear. If she’s not a disciple, what is she?”
Lao Yan chimed in again: “A beloved disciple.”
Bei Ci: “Must be beloved.”
“Let’s not go there,” Chong said. “Forget about jumping from platforms, she can’t even stand up without me. She screams when a leaf floats a meter… Let’s wait until she learns to change edges. I’ve never had a disciple who needed to sit down after skiing just ten meters.”
Lao Yan: “…”
Bei Ci: “…”
Chong: “Do you think becoming my disciple is such a simple matter?”
Lao Yan: “…”
Bei Ci: “…”
What’s this? How is it not simple? Do they need to pass through eighteen copper men?
He’s still as strict as ever.
Still as unsentimental as always.
The straightforward male perspective remains reassuringly consistent.
…Alright then.
It seems he hasn’t completely lost his way.
…
The ski equipment hall was busier than usual that afternoon.
After lunch, the star student Jiang Nanfeng went to take a nap, leaving Wei Zhi to wait for the instructor, circling the entrance of the ski equipment hall.
The afternoon time slot was a bit crowded, with two unexpected guests joining the cable car that normally accommodates six people.
Wei Zhi was wiping her ski goggles.
Chong lowered his head, fiddling with the crumpled instructor’s armband in his hand.
The other two were Bei Ci and Lao Yan, both wearing innocent expressions, as if squeezing onto the same cable car with Chong was purely accidental.
The two of them glanced between Wei Zhi and Chong.
They wanted to speak but didn’t dare.
Chong-ge’s aura was still intimidating when he was silent. With his black face mask on, he resembled some malevolent spirit crawled out from hell.
He didn’t like to talk much.
And he wasn’t easy to talk to either.
…Sigh.
They felt a bit scared, sensing the heavy atmosphere in the cable car.
“I feel like I’m the class dunce being kept after school for failing my homework.”
Unfortunately, there was someone who couldn’t read the room.
“Poor thing.”
And even dared to act cute in a sickening way.
The cable car fell into dead silence, with no one responding.
The chatterbox gave up scraping snow off her snowboard and looked up, lifting her short leg to kick the all-black-clad person sitting opposite: “Say something.”
A suffocating atmosphere filled the cable car.
The man lazily raised his head: “Say what?”
“When can I learn to push off on my front edge like Nanfeng? This afternoon?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Who else would I ask?”
“…”
Wei Zhi gave up trying to communicate with him and turned to Lao Yan. The puppy-faced young man pointed at his nose in confusion, as if to say: Are you looking at me? Why are you looking at me?
Unexpectedly, Wei Zhi dropped a bombshell: “When Nanfeng and I learned to swim together, I picked it up first. There’s no reason it should be the opposite for skiing… Do you think it’s because your teaching skills are stronger?”
Lao Yan: “?”
Feeling a cool gaze from across the car.
Lao Yan: “…”
He suddenly felt the urge to pee.
Self-preservation instinct kicked in, and Lao Yan started rambling: “That’s not quite right. You see, professional instructors have different teaching methods and plans for different students. So it doesn’t matter how fast you learn at each stage. Chong-ge might have higher requirements for your fundamentals, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing—”
“But I’ve been skiing for three days and still can’t stand up on my own,” Wei Zhi was still bothered by her morning failure and asked, “Is this normal?”
Of course…
It’s not normal.
Lao Yan faltered, unable to bring himself to say “normal.”
Seeing his silence, Wei Zhi continued: “Usually, if I struggle with a movement after a few attempts, he steps in to help me. Standing up on the slope by myself is just one example.”
Bei Ci suddenly chimed in: “What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that good? And then?”
Wei Zhi turned to this unfamiliar person, not shy at all, and blinked: “How is it good?”
Bei Ci: “It’s good because when I was learning to ski, the person teaching me (emphasis) (glancing at Chong) told me to either get up on my own or sit there until dark.”
The accused showed no reaction, adjusting his face mask and changing his sitting position with folded arms.
Wei Zhi didn’t understand Bei Ci’s sarcastic comment and turned back to kick Chong, who had just gotten comfortable: “See? Everyone says strict teachers produce outstanding students! So, are you trying to mask your impatience in teaching me with a facade of caring and gentle instruction?”
The man turned his face away.
“Vivid imagination.”
“I don’t! This morning, Lao Yan also said strict teachers produce outstanding students! You’re not being strict!”
The topic they had just discussed at lunch suddenly resurfaced.
The man’s eyelashes lowered, appearing calm yet somewhat cold.
“Who’s your teacher?”
His words would typically cause people to recoil three meters away—
But not Wei Zhi.
Because she was Wei Zhi.
She just paused for a moment.
Then his question successfully ignited her.
“Aren’t you? What do you think you are?” Still holding her ski goggles, the young woman’s eyes widened slightly. “From the countless times you’ve painstakingly helped me up from the snow, in my heart, you’ve already become a father-like master, haven’t you?”
Chong was momentarily distracted. Before he could react, the person sitting across from him suddenly stood up and leaned in close: “What’s wrong, you don’t acknowledge it?”
The young woman must have used some sweet-smelling shampoo; its fragrance wafted towards him.
Her loose strands of hair were right at the tip of his nose.
Too close.
The man’s eyelashes trembled imperceptibly, then he slowly raised his gaze, maintaining his composure.
“? Acknowledge what?”
“So I misunderstood? Do we still have a cold, transactional relationship? Tourist and instructor! I’m not worthy of calling you master, right? That’s why you haven’t taught me properly, and when I get a little discouraged and want to give up, you give up for me because you’re afraid I’ll become disillusioned with skiing and you’ll lose a sweet and easy repeat customer…”
“…”
What on earth is “sweet and salty”?
“…”
He stuffed the crumpled instructor’s armband back into his pocket.
“Shut up and sit down.”
“I won’t sit.”
“Do you even know who I am to casually take me as your master?”
“Don’t I have your WeChat?”
“The vegetable seller at the market could give you his WeChat too.”
“You’re someone who skis pretty well,” she said, choosing her words conservatively and implicitly. “Though I don’t know your upper limit, from observation, I can see your skill level is above mine.”
“?”
Ignoring the petrified Bei Ci and Lao Yan.
Chong felt as if his soul had been forcibly separated from his body—although what she said wasn’t wrong, somehow it didn’t sound quite right, something felt off…
He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.
However, Wei Zhi didn’t give him a chance to think it through, pressing on: “Finished asking? Now it’s my turn. Be clear, am I worthy or not?”
“…”
His temple twitched slightly as Chong raised his hand to rub his forehead…
Forget it.
“You are.”
“Say it louder.”
“Don’t make me open the door and throw you out. And don’t make me repeat myself a third time. Sit down.”
“Say it properly.”
“Mm.”
“Master.”
“Mm.”
“Alright,” Wei Zhi clasped her hands together, “When I’ve mastered skiing, I’ll show you my filial piety.”
“I’d be grateful if you’d just stop annoying me.”
“That won’t happen. There’s no one in the world more obedient than me.”
Wei Zhi straightened her back, tucked in her head, and dropped the lie that even the gods wouldn’t believe. Satisfied, she sat back down.
…………………………
Lao Yan and Bei Ci watched in stunned silence as their master was morally blackmailed by a novice skier who needed to rest after just ten meters on the slope.
The whole process was like a bowl of scalding hot tea for accepting a master, complete with the saucer, being shoved into his mouth—
Though he didn’t struggle much against it.
Heh, men.