She froze in his embrace, speechless. There was no helping it—these past few days, Shan Chong had created and rigorously followed his training regimen, exhausting himself like a dog each day. Consequently, after that night, the two of them… had done little more than sleep under the covers.
Even after he was injured, Wei Zhi voluntarily retreated to her bed. They hadn’t done anything intimate. That chaotic night had unexpectedly become their “swan song.”
The otaku wife was a bit confused by this. After all, based on her extensive theoretical knowledge, normal couples who’ve had a taste of intimacy would want to spend every waking moment in bed…
Her boyfriend, however, was different. He seemed to prefer dying on the Big Air jump rather than in bed. Fully committed to his career.
Now, pinned beneath him, she was initially shocked. After the surprise subsided, she almost wanted to ask if he still remembered this aspect of their relationship. She resisted the urge and instead ran her fingers through his hair, trying to keep any resentment out of her voice: “What made you suddenly bring this up?”
“Do I need a reason to bring this up?” he asked. “You’re right here next to me, and I’m not blind.”
“Oh.” So that’s how it is. Indeed… She had thought he was blind.
“This isn’t very convenient for you either. Why don’t we wait… You’re tired tonight, and if you lose focus and fall again tomorrow, what then?”
Her hands pressed against his shoulders, not daring to push too hard. Given the amount of pain relief patches and ointments he’d been using these past few days, the pharmacy clerk probably thought they were raising an Akita—one that went out and picked fights it couldn’t win every day.
“I’m resting tomorrow,” Shan Chong said.
Wei Zhi thought her ears were playing tricks on her. She widened her eyes, staring at him.
Seeing her reaction, he found it utterly adorable. He curled his lips into a smile and planted a light kiss on her eyelashes, saying softly, “If I keep training, there won’t be an uninjured spot left on my body. I’ll take a day to recover. Today wore me out.”
He hovered above her, his back covered in patches like an old, mended garment. The mixed scent of ointments and patches filled the air…
Yet he spoke so casually about it.
Wei Zhi knew he was in a good mood.
Shan Chong’s Fs Cork 2520 had indeed come to fruition.
After nearly a week of the man battling with the Big Air jump—
This breakthrough shattered the current record for snowboard Big Air training and competition. The entire process was witnessed only by Wei Zhi and her phone.
At this moment, that video rested quietly on both her phone and Shan Chong’s. Wei Zhi remembered that this was the first time Shan Chong had actively asked her for the footage she’d recorded, telling her to send it to him.
How could he not be happy?
Even now, thinking back to the moment he nailed the trick, she still felt a sense of disbelief.
After all, besides Shan Chong himself, no one knew better than her just how difficult it had been to achieve this Fs Cork 2520.
…
Shan Chong had succeeded today.
Originally, the weather hadn’t been great. Since early morning, the sky had been overcast, gloomy, and oppressive, sapping one’s energy.
Given these conditions, she hadn’t expected today to be a day of great accomplishments.
Wei Zhi had been yawning while hugging her board on the cable car ride up. Upon reaching the terrain park at the summit, she’d found her usual spot to squat beside the big jump. While Shan Chong warmed up, she’d played with her phone for a bit—
Opening WeChat, she saw everyone in the group chat still looking for Shan Chong.
Someone reported seeing the master at the cable car queue in Yunding, with his wife beside him.
Bei Ci tagged them, asking why they were at Yunding again. Could it be that they’d been at Yunding all these days?
[Little Girl Ji: What else could we be doing but snowboarding… Also, because I wanted KFC for lunch?]
[CK, Bei Ci: Women are so troublesome.]
Wei Zhi put away her phone and found the best camera position, starting to fiddle with her recording equipment—
These days, she’d become familiar with this place. Plus, she could now film while riding her board. She no longer simply stayed at the top of the starting platform to film. Instead, she followed along below, adjusting her angle as Shan Chong jumped, tracking his movements.
She was quite pleased with herself.
Although Shan Chong had said that the best photographers would jump along with their subjects, only flying straight when the subject was performing aerial tricks.
… As if “flying straight” was so simple.
He wasn’t even paying her, yet he wanted to risk her life.
Wei Zhi couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the thought. She squatted down, and after Shan Chong had completed several simple warm-up jumps, she noticed his landings were a bit unstable. She couldn’t help but crane her neck to look—
Sure enough, she saw that many areas of the jump’s landing zone were covered in a layer of ice.
Even outdoor snow parks in China use artificial snow in winter. She’d heard that artificial snow is very expensive to produce. From Wei Zhi’s experience, the frequency of snowmaking at Yunding wasn’t as high as at the neighboring mountain resort—
This meant that if the temperature fluctuated in the middle of the night, the ice layer at Yunding would be particularly noticeable.
Moreover, in the terrain park area, there were fewer people and only one snow machine nearby, making it even harder to maintain.
Falling on this kind of ice surface was a thousand times more painful than falling on flat ground. Wei Zhi worried about her boyfriend’s back, which had already been reinforced with several hundred thousand yuan worth of steel nails. She was lowering her head to study which angle would be best for landing when the man climbed up to the big jump for the fourth time.
At this point, Shan Chong hadn’t put on his board yet. He leaned against it at the starting platform, looking down patiently as she bounced around at the bottom of the jump, stomping here and there—
She looked a bit like a wild animal that had wandered into the snow park, out of place yet somewhat cute, making one want to watch for a while longer.
After investigating the area, Wei Zhi finally felt the man’s gaze. She looked up and made eye contact with him from afar, quickly moving aside. She waved to him from a distance, pointing at the icy areas, and telling him not to land there…
From fifteen or twenty meters away, the man seemed to have seen her gestures. He waved back and bent down to put on his board.
Wei Zhi repositioned herself, and he came up from below—
He rode the first few meters on edge to control his speed, then in the middle section, he started to flatten his board. This was one of the techniques he’d developed over the past few days. The initial speed off the lip of the jump determined the highest point of his parabolic arc.
He flattened his board earlier than usual, took off, and jumped higher than normal.
To Wei Zhi, it looked like a golden eagle suddenly spreading its wings and taking flight against the endless sky. His body stretched out, and then, at the apex of the jump, there was a noticeable moment of suspension before he tucked and grabbed his board.
Rotating in the frontside direction, the first three or four spins were very fast. By the fifth rotation, the speed began to slow. Five rotations equaled 1800 degrees, and usually adding another 360 from there would already be at the top level for Big Air snowboarding…
Midair and Wei Zhi watched as Shan Chong completed his sixth rotation. As the seventh rotation was about to begin, her heart leaped—
But by the sixth rotation, it was clear the man’s spin wasn’t sufficient. The seventh rotation barely made it past 90 degrees before he realized he couldn’t complete it. He promptly let go of the board and fell heavily to the ground…
Because he’d released the board somewhat hastily, he couldn’t choose his landing angle. The bright yellow snowboard landed squarely on the icy patch Wei Zhi had pointed out earlier—
Wei Zhi watched as Shan Chong crashed hard. Although he initially seemed to land steadily, his board slipped on the ice, unable to hold an edge. The momentum flung his entire body forward!
It’s worth noting that the icy surfaces of outdoor snow parks aren’t just slippery; they’re also covered in ice shards. Those shards can inflict pain that feels like it’s penetrating one’s internal organs!
Shan Chong fell right onto these ice shards. He first tried to brace himself with his hands, then his back hit the ground, scraping against the ice shards as he slid at least three or four meters—
Wei Zhi felt her scalp tingle as she watched, feeling as if her own back was in pain.
She quickly pocketed her phone, took off her board, and tossed it aside, not caring about it as she ran towards him. By the time she reached him, stumbling through the snow, he had already sat up. He sat there with his knees bent, having removed his board, maintaining his position without moving…
He was in too much pain to move.
Wei Zhi tumbled over to him. The man turned his head to look at her, his expression blank, and said calmly, “Help me check if my back is bleeding.”
His voice was steady, but whether from cold or pain, it had an almost imperceptible tremor.
Hearing this, Wei Zhi closed her eyes briefly, her knees weakening as she sat down beside him.
Supporting herself with one hand, she scooted closer to him. Holding her breath, she lifted his snow jacket, middle layer, and base layer one by one to take a look—
The light-colored base layer didn’t show any blood stains from the outside. She let out a sigh of relief, then unceremoniously yanked up his base layer!
“Ouch!” The man sucked in a sharp breath. “Be gentle, won’t you? It hurts!”
“So you do know it hurts!”
Wei Zhi stared at the scattered abrasions on his back, with tiny spots of blood that had already stained the inside of his base layer. The blood droplets quickly congealed in the cold wind. She saw his back muscles gradually tense up—
“There’s some abrasion,” she said, quickly lowering his base layer. “But it’s not too serious. Does anything else hurt?”
She leaned closer to ask him. The man turned his head, staring at her for a moment, but his eyes were not focused on her face. He mused, “I think my gaze hesitated at the last moment and didn’t follow through. I feel like if I had looked at the right spot, I could have completed that last rotation.”
“What? Did you hit your head?” Wei Zhi clapped her hands in front of his eyes. “Shan Chong? Boyfriend? Are you there? I’m asking if anything else hurts!”
“…Oh.” The man blinked. “Nothing else hurts. Just my back feels hot and a bit painful.”
“I already said you have abrasions,” Wei Zhi said, watching him immerse himself in analyzing the connection between his gaze and rotation, oblivious to everything else, including his condition. She struggled to control her temper. “I told you not to land here, but you insisted. This area is full of ice shards. Who else would get hurt if not you? Luckily, it’s just abrasions—”
She left the rest unsaid.
The young woman’s concern was written plainly on her face, and the man finally shifted some of his attention away from the jump.
Seeing him looking at her, Wei Zhi hesitated, her gaze falling on the tip of his nose. “I think if you want to analyze your technique, you should ask Wang Xin to take a look—”
The man paused briefly, then said in an emotionless voice, “He’s not my coach anymore.”
“But if you asked him to come,” Wei Zhi mumbled, “I feel like he’d fly over on Nezha’s Wind Fire Wheels, carrying a thousand firecrackers.”
Her description was so specific that Shan Chong couldn’t help but chuckle.
Wei Zhi wanted to say more, but he waved his hand dismissively.
He tilted his head, admiring for a moment his girlfriend’s conflicted expression—wanting to lecture him but not knowing where to start, wanting to show concern but unable to express it… The man finally felt the pain subside a bit. He leaned back, supporting himself with his hands, and brought his face close to her lips. That impossibly handsome face was now just inches from hers.
Wei Zhi’s irritation flared up again. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t feel the pain earlier.”
“What?”
“You keep emphasizing it, and now I’ve realized,” the man’s long eyelashes fluttered as he lowered his gaze, speaking slowly, “it does hurt a bit.”
“…Are you blaming me for reminding you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then you can just suffer! This is nothing, and you’re already complaining. Can’t you be more careful? Guess what I’d do if you gave me a chance to call an ambulance for you? I’d break up with you immediately and announce on social media that I’m currently single and widowed…”
He listened to her rant like an angry bird chick, without pausing for breath. He chuckled and curled his lips into a smile. “A kiss will make it stop hurting.”
Wei Zhi’s complaints came to an abrupt halt. She stared at him as if she’d seen a ghost.
Reflexively, she looked around. It was very quiet; everyone knew the snow wasn’t good here these days. Within a hundred meters, it was indeed deserted.
After a brief standoff, she gave him a peculiar look.
Just as he thought she was going to refuse him again, the young woman placed one hand on his thigh, leaned forward, and kissed him on the lips.
He remained in his half-sitting position on the ground, not moving. The soft, sweet-scented breath drew near, warm lips brushing against his… The man let out a deep, muffled sound from his nose, sounding somewhat languid.
A light kiss.
She immediately pulled back.
The young woman’s cheeks were flushed red. She shrank her neck as she retreated, still not forgetting to glare at him, trying to look serious but completely in his thrall: “Better now?”
“Mm,” the man slowly got up, pulling her up from the ground as well, before picking up his board. “My wife’s kiss works wonders.”
His voice carried a hint of that deep nasal tone, and he even used reduplicated words. The cool guy’s attempt at coquettish charm was devastatingly effective, catching Wei Zhi off guard and leaving her completely disarmed.
By the time she came to her senses, the man had already reverted to his usual expressionless face and was climbing back up to the starting platform of the big jump, board in hand.
Leaving her alone with her wildly beating heart.
Wei Zhi stared at his back, taking a couple of steps forward to stand by his feet. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to find Wang Xin—”
“Mm,” the man stood on the stairs and chuckled lightly, “What if I fail? He couldn’t handle that kind of shock.”
Dropping this statement that no one could tell was a joke or not, he set off again.
Once more leaning against the starting platform, the man bent down to put on his board.
Different from before, this time after he started, he took one less edge, experimentally.
Wei Zhi stood at the bottom of the platform, watching as he was visibly thrown higher than the previous attempt at the moment he left the lip. Her heart stirred, and she raised her recording equipment—
Watching in midair, the man who had been acting coy with her just a moment ago transformed into a cold snowboarding machine, calmly and smoothly bending his body, grabbing his board, and rotating.
One rotation, two rotations, three rotations…
By the fifth rotation, his spinning speed hadn’t decreased at all.
At the bottom of the jump, the hand holding the camera shook slightly. Wei Zhi quickly focused her attention, instinctively tightening her core as well. She hurriedly used her other hand to steady the recording device—
By the sixth rotation, his speed slowed, but his gaze kept up.
Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, suddenly racing up to her throat. Her mind went blank, and she didn’t even dare to blink, afraid she might miss something—
Seventh rotation.
A full seven rotations were completed, and the parabolic arc had reached its end. Everything was like a perfect trinity of mathematics, physics, and miracles—
Landing, the snowboard hit the snow with a solid, muffled thud.
Captured by the small camera lens, the person standing on the board bent his knees slightly to press down on the front edge. The board’s edge cut into the snow as he traveled several meters, his black glove brushing over the snow surface…
Standing.
The man straightened up into a relaxed basic stance on his snowboard.
The world’s first Fs Cork 2520, enough to shake the entire global snowboarding big air community three times over, was quietly born.
…
“What are you thinking about?”
The man’s gentle voice pulled her thoughts back to reality.
In the warm, dry apartment, only the dim light of the desk lamp was on. The first aid kit was open, its contents somewhat messily scattered…
On the single bed, two adults were squeezed together, yet neither complained about the cramped space.
Wei Zhi blinked, seeming a bit slow to wake from her afternoon memories.
Her hands climbed up to the man’s shoulders, hooking around his neck. She raised herself slightly, her lips landing on the tip of his nose.
…Who could have imagined that when he performed that earth-shattering trick, he was still injured?
Who would believe it if they were told? Shan Chong, who always emphasized safety in class and protected his students meticulously, seemed to disregard his own life when practicing. Rain or shine, never missing a meal, with his back still bleeding, he didn’t complain once. He just acted a little coy with his girlfriend, then got up and continued jumping.
Heaven rewards the diligent.
It perfectly exemplified that saying beloved in the snow sports community—
You just keep trying, and leave the rest to time.
Time had given him a satisfactory answer. At a point when he might have considered giving up on himself, he suddenly succeeded.
As her lips left the tip of his nose, he caught the scent of her fragrance, sweet as always.
His gaze deepened as if all the blood in his body flowed out from his heart and then rushed back. Beneath his chest, a powerful heartbeat… They were so close that he only needed to lower his head slightly to kiss her lips, and her chest, rising and falling with her breath, was pressed against him, separated only by a thin layer of fabric.
He had taken off his shirt earlier to apply the medicine.
He tilted his head slightly, looking at her with questioning eyes.
After just a few seconds of eye contact, Wei Zhi remained silent, but she didn’t push him away—
The man let out a lazy chuckle, understanding. He raised his hand to the hem of her nightgown.
One fingertip hooked the edge of the fabric, tugging playfully. He heard her hiss and kick at him, blushing.
Releasing the elastic, there was a “snap” as the fabric sprang back against her soft, white thigh. It stung, and she let out a delicate whimper…
The scent of her body mingled with the smell of ointment on his, creating an odd fragrance that seemed to possess some corrosive power, invading his nostrils and destroying his willpower.
She wrapped herself around him.
When he tried to withdraw his hand, her legs closed slightly.
His hand was trapped, pressed against her warm skin, unable to move. A vein throbbed at his temple, and he reached out to pinch her—
He didn’t know his strength.
The flesh of her thigh was particularly tender, and Wei Zhi nearly jumped when he pinched her. She released his hand, and the hand that had been on his shoulder yanked his hair in retaliation.
“It’s red now,” she complained softly.
“Oh,” he propped himself up a bit, the blanket sliding down from his waist. “Let me see.”
As he spoke, he acted.
In the end, he saw everything there was to see, both what he should and shouldn’t.
Lying on the soft bed, the young woman covered her face with both hands. Through the gaps between her fair fingers, one could see her flushed, heated cheeks. She lay there, trembling slightly, so docile it made one want to swallow her whole.
“T-turn off the light,” she said, her voice quavering.
The man’s lips and hands were both wet. Hearing this, his eyelashes fluttered lightly as he reached out to pull her wrists away—
When her skin first came into contact with the moisture, she was stunned for a moment, quickly realizing what it was. She let out a small shriek, trying to break free from his grip as if shaking off a hot potato.
Shan Chong still pressed closer.
A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his brow, likely from his intense self-control. His eyes were dark and deep like a pond so still that even a thrown pebble couldn’t cause a ripple…
Yet beneath that darkness lurked a primal instinct, ready to pounce.
The muscles of his body were taut to the extreme, his shadow enveloping her…
He often teased her about the flesh on her bottom and thighs, but in reality, she was so small lying there that his broad shoulders could completely encompass her.
One hand gripped her thigh, full of smooth flesh.
The soft flesh, like water, bulged between his fingers.
Where he had grabbed left a red handprint.
He leaned down, placing a light kiss on her tear-dampened eye corner: “Be good, don’t move around. My back still hurts.”
His tone was gentle, but his words were a mix of coaxing and deception. Wei Zhi even detected a hint of threat. These days, doing something unhealthy comes with moral blackmail…
It’s not like she was going to kick him off the bed.
Unless he… went too far.
Realizing this, her eyelashes trembled in fear.
“You can’t fatten a pig in one day. You’d better be careful. If you ruin your meal, there won’t be anything left to eat—”
The last word wasn’t spoken.
It was replaced by her cry.
Outside the window, the wind howled, beating against the glass, reminiscent of the fierce gales during the southern plum rain season. Standing outside at this moment would surely be bone-chillingly cold.
On the phone, WeChat kept flashing with incoming messages, the screen flickering on and off, accompanied by notification sounds.
Her hands were pinned above her head by his, their fingers intertwined, palms pressed together and sweating, sticky and salty.
The intimate atmosphere mixed with the smell of ointment, spreading and fermenting in the warm room. The blanket had fallen to the floor, ignored. Her light sweat dampened her forehead and the crumpled front of her nightgown…
The night.
Like a special industry worker in a dark alley, holding a cigarette with glowing embers between their teeth, she was languid with weary eyes, smiling at every passerby, white teeth contrasting with numbed eyes…
It seemed as if a moment could become an endless eternity.
…
The competition was scheduled for the following Sunday, a week later.
Like a small warm-up event before the Winter Olympics, on the day of the competition, at the five major ski resorts in Chongli, all park riders and spectators, whether on snowboards or skis, flocked to the Yunding Resort.
Early in the morning, a queue formed at the ticket window at Yunding, a scene never before witnessed.
Bei Ci knocked on Shan Chong’s door early in the morning. When the door opened, the man was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, leaning against the doorframe. He looked at the person standing outside who had already gotten up and showered, with water still dripping from his hair onto his shoulders.
He yawned, appearing somewhat relaxed as he asked the person at the door, “What’s up?”
Bei Ci almost stumbled, overwhelmed by the pungent smell of ointment wafting from the room. He blinked, “Are you competing today?”
After speaking, he stared intently at the man.
Hearing this sudden question, the latter’s expression didn’t change at all. He lifted his eyelids to glance at him, calmly asking in return, “What competition?”
“The one in the park, the one Dai Duo threw the flyer in your face about earlier.”
“Oh. Not going.”
“Registration closed a week ago, you couldn’t go even if you wanted to,” Bei Ci grumbled. “The competition starts today. I’m puzzled, if you’re not competing, why have you been working so hard these past few days? You’ve been practically sleeping with your snowboard every night, and you’ve been unreachable, not responding on WeChat—”
His complaints grew.
Shan Chong barely reacted.
Until behind him, the sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. He looked back, seeing a silhouette moving behind the frosted glass door, coming out of the shower and moving back and forth inside.
Knowing Wei Zhi would be out soon, and remembering she had gone in wearing just a bathrobe, he glanced at Bei Ci still standing like a door god outside, and expressionlessly moved to close the door.
Bei Ci called out “Hey, hey, hey!” several times, putting his hand out to stop the door, asking Shan Chong if he was going to watch the competition.
The man, seeming uninterested, barely lifted his eyelids and said, “Not going.”
At that moment, the bathroom door behind him opened, and the young woman poked her head out, her hair wet and dripping. She said, “I’m going. Wait for me, I’ll go with you guys.”
Shan Chong turned to look at her.
Feeling his gaze, she blinked and met his eyes: “What’s wrong? Can’t I go see if there’s anyone better than you?”
After a moment’s thought, she added, “I can’t always just watch you. I need to broaden my horizons.”
Bei Ci was still pondering whether these two had fought last night to be having such an aggressive conversation early in the morning when unexpectedly, the man fell silent for a moment. Without saying anything, he just curled his lips into a smile and said lazily, “Alright.”
His tone was indulgent.
Bei Ci regretted coming here.
He took out his phone. Lao Yan had tagged him in the group chat, asking what was taking so long, if he had called the master, and if the master was coming.
Standing in front of the master, in a group of several hundred people, Bei Ci calmly typed—
[CK, Bei Ci: He’s not coming.]
[CK, Bei Ci: He’s changed.]
[CK, Bei Ci: He’s lost his self-respect and become a vulgar, fawning henpecked husband.]
The usually bustling group chat fell silent for a few seconds.
Bei Ci patiently waited for someone to join him in launching an attack.
Until Lao Yan spoke up.
[Lao Yan: At least he has a wife to manage him. Better than us being stray dogs.]
[CK, Bei Ci: ?]
[CK, Bei Ci: …]