Wei Zhi stomped her foot and turned to leave. A man may fear nothing in heaven or on earth, but he certainly fears his girlfriend stomping her foot. Shan Chong exchanged a glance with Lao Yan that said, “Your girlfriend has quite a temper” and “At least I have a girlfriend,” then stood up.
Before Wei Zhi could storm out of the hospital room, a hand reached out from behind and pressed against the door—being tall had its advantages. With his long legs, he caught up to her in three strides while she had taken four or five quick steps.
Wei Zhi whirled around, glaring at the man behind her.
Unfazed, the man—with the agility of an experienced skier—swiftly pinned his girlfriend between himself and the door. He held the door with one hand while using the other to take out his phone and make a WeChat call.
The call was answered after two rings. A soft, cute girl’s voice said “Hello” and then called out “Gege” (older brother).
Shan Shan always called him “Gege” when she was up to no good. Now she was ready to watch the show, given their recent lively WeChat conversation:
[Gege is a miser: Remember, it’s Chinese New Year’s Eve.]
[Chong: I promised to go back to Nancheng with your sister-in-law.]
[Gege is a miser: Who told you to make such a promise? Besides, Nancheng is thousands of miles away from home. What do you mean by “go back”? Your heart is with Han even though you’re in Cao’s camp. You’ve forgotten your mother after getting a wife! As a representative of the Northeast, I look down on you!]
[Chong: Stop babbling. If I don’t go back, change your WeChat name.]
[Gege is a miser: Stop babbling yourself. I won’t change it. I’ll tell Mom you don’t want to come back and explain why you competed on the big ski jump wearing a disguise.]
[Chong:? She knows?]
[Gege is a miser: I told her.]
[Gege is a miser: Besides, she has her short video app. Did you expect her big data not to include “Chongli” where her son is practically taking root, or “skiing”?]
[Chong: …]
This was Shan Chong’s entire process from “never betraying his wife” to “might as well betray her.”
Now, with the call connected, Shan Chong didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He got straight to the point: “Your sister-in-law isn’t happy to hear I might not come. You talk to her.”
As the man spoke in his deep voice, silence fell on the other end of the line. Meanwhile, he received a glare from his girlfriend.
He deserved it. What kind of first interaction was this between a sister-in-law and her husband’s sister? How awkward! It made her look like a controlling personality with excessive possessiveness, preventing him from going home while still just his girlfriend!
Wei Zhi pondered how to respond if asked, “You’re just boyfriend and girlfriend. Why are you so controlling? Is this appropriate?” She wanted to sound polite, reasonable, and neither servile nor overbearing, without losing face.
Her heart was in her throat.
She stared at the Crayon Shin-chan avatar in the middle of Shan Chong’s phone screen. After a long silence, just as she swallowed hard, she heard the voice on the other end say, “Hello? Sister-in-law? … Why is everyone quiet? Wait, I’m a bit nervous. I can’t speak. Should we chat by text instead?”
Wei Zhi thought, “That’s exactly what I want.”
So she nodded vigorously.
The man looked down at her as if she were simple-minded. He raised the phone to his lips and said, “She says okay.”
“Why didn’t I hear her?”
“Because she was nodding,” Shan Chong stared at Wei Zhi. He curled his lip in a smirk, “Maybe she thought it could be turned into an emoji and transmitted to your skull via a wireless signal.”
Wei Zhi: “…”
Shan Shan: “…”
Shan Shan: “How on earth did you manage to get a girlfriend?”
Wei Zhi: “How on earth did you manage to get a girlfriend!”
The fact that these two people, who had never met in person and had only interacted for ten seconds over the phone, could harmonize so perfectly reminded Shan Chong of another trait they shared: their tendency to cry and make a fuss.
Oh boy.
In the future, he wouldn’t dare to die carelessly in front of these two.
Otherwise, his funeral would be so lively people might think someone had set off fireworks at the crematorium.
Expressionless, Shan Chong hung up the call. With a swipe of his finger, he sent Shan Shan’s contact card to Wei Zhi, and Wei Zhi’s to Shan Shan.
The young woman, still pinned against the door and unable to move under his imposing presence, had no choice but to lower her head meekly and tap to add the new friend. Without looking up, she said, “You coward, having your sister speak for you.”
“Would you believe me if I spoke?”
“I wouldn’t. From today on, I won’t believe a single word out of your mouth.”
The man gave her a mocking “You see?” look. “So why should I waste my breath?”
Wei Zhi found herself somewhat convinced by his logic.
She lowered her head and added Shan Shan.
[Doing good deeds: qaq]
[Little girl chirp: qaq]
[Doing good deeds: Hello, sister-in-law qaq]
[Little girl chirps: Hi hi qaq]
“These emoticons make me want to gouge out both your eyeballs. Can we get to the point?” Shan Chong snatched Wei Zhi’s phone and sent a voice message to Shan Shan, “Cut to the chase, no-nonsense. Ready to change your WeChat name yet?”
Shan Shan didn’t reply to Wei Zhi’s side; they were still exchanging cute emoticons. She took a moment to respond to Shan Chong on his account:
[Doing good deeds: I think you’re right. Not changing it would make it seem like we’re too close. That wouldn’t be good.]
Shan Chong: “…”
The matter of Shan Chong going home wasn’t complicated. Shan Shan explained it in just a few sentences. Their parents had found out about Shan Chong’s recent competition. Surprisingly, there was no crying or fuss. They watched his competition video once, then put the phone down.
Then today at lunch, who knows where Shan Chong’s mother got the inspiration, but she put down her chopsticks and told Shan Shan to have her brother come home for the New Year. No running around. She wanted to see him by the 29th day of the lunar month.
After a pause, she added, asking if Wang Xin and Little Duo were coming too, as she needed to prepare extra dishes and cutlery.
… This was a call for everyone to gather—
Was it for death, to gather them all for a thorough scolding, with one foot on the window sill threatening that if her son jumps from ski jumps, she’ll jump from windows?
Or was it for life, willing to let Shan Chong try returning to the competition stage he yearned for?
No one knew.
They only knew it was a serious matter.
After reading what Shan Shan said, Wei Zhi immediately calmed down. She looked up at the man looming over her. He was still looking down at her, and their eyes met. She fell silent for a moment.
She withdrew her gaze and reached out to wrap her arms around his waist, hugging him.
“Go back,” she said in a warm tone.
Shan Chong was quiet for a while. Wei Zhi hugged him, and the scene momentarily seemed harmonious. Lao Yan turned his head to look at them, debating whether to tell them to get out.
Until Shan Chong spoke: “That’s it?”
As soon as he opened his mouth, Wei Zhi knew what he was getting at. She raised her chin from his chest, looked up at him, blinked, and nodded seriously: “Mm-hmm.”
She wasn’t asking “What else do you want me to say?” but simply affirming, “Mm-hmm.”
The man narrowed his eyes slightly and got straight to the point: “You don’t want to accompany me back for such an important occasion?”
“…” Wei Zhi let go of him, hesitated for a moment, then honestly said, “What if you’re going back to be scolded?”
“Maybe my mom won’t scold me if she sees you.”
“I’m not that likable,” the young woman said seriously, with a “let’s abandon ship separately in the face of disaster” expression. “I have at least that much self-awareness.”
He affectionately patted her head: “I think you’re very likable.”
“Stop talking nonsense. What if your mom asks what I do? We’ll both end up getting kicked out!” she said obediently. “I won’t go back with you. At most, I’ll allow you to video call me at the dinner table on New Year’s Eve.”
And so the matter was settled.
Under Wei Zhi’s supervision, they canceled all of Shan Chong’s various tickets and hotel bookings on the spot, preparing to buy new tickets for his return home.
Shan Chong was holding his phone, considering whether to buy tickets for the 28th or 29th day of the lunar month, when a message popped up at the top of the screen—
[Doing good deeds: Gege, what does sister-in-law look like? Do you have any photos?]
Wei Zhi’s WeChat Moments were set to be visible for three days. Recently, the visible content included “snowy mountain ski resort,” “ski resort after sandstorm,” “stray cat,” and “meat.”
[Chong: Isn’t that all over my short video platform?]
[Jide Xingshan: With face masks and ski goggles on so tight, what can you even see?]
[Chong: Oh, about the same as you, shorty.]
Before Shan Shan could respond, Chong typed again:
[Chong: Just a bit better-looking than you.]
Shan Shan’s “typing” indicator lasted for at least a minute, clearly deleting and rewriting, wavering between using profanity or not. Finally, he tactfully replied:
[Shan Shan: You’re truly a good brother.]
[Chong: Indeed I am.]
…
Jiang Nanfeng returned with the report, providing a more precise diagnosis: a minor bone fracture. The rhythm suggested he could be discharged tomorrow after getting a cast.
Lao Yan glanced at the report, seemingly a bit disappointed. However, under Jiang Nanfeng’s cold gaze, he pondered and said it still hurt a lot, enough to keep him from sleeping, and he might suffer from insomnia tonight.
Jiang Nanfeng didn’t immediately respond to him, instead looking up at Shan Chong.
The latter had genuinely fractured his tailbone, which had sunken in. He now stood at the doorway, looking at Lao Yan, then at Jiang Nanfeng. Caught between trying to recruit a promising candidate for park jumping and his disciple, his conscience prevailed, and he chose his disciple.
“I also had a sleepless night,” Shan Chong reflected. Realizing this might make him seem too afraid of pain and affect his macho image, he added, “But it was more due to the fear of not being able to stand up in the future that caused insomnia.”
Wei Zhi: “It’s just fear of pain.”
Shan Chong: “Have you never cried from falling?”
Wei Zhi thought for a moment: “No.”
Shan Chong: “Who was it this afternoon that fell from the pole, insisted her chest was hurt, cried in my arms for ages, and only agreed to get back on the pole after much coaxing and hand-holding?”
Wei Zhi: “Who?”
“I don’t know,” Shan Chong said, pulling out his phone and scrolling. “Let’s ask others.”
There was no need to ask.
A crowd had been watching, including one of Shan Chong’s disciples who had captured the moment of the little girl whimpering in the tiger-like man’s arms and shared it in the group chat. Everyone had witnessed a live “tiger sniffing a rose” scene.
As a female senior, Hua Yan was deeply moved:
[Last year, I shattered my elbow and was hospitalized for half a month. Master visited four or five times, and each time his first words were: “Have you learned your lesson? Will you still wave your hands recklessly in the air next time?”]
In the end, there was no hand-holding or coaxing to get back on the jumping platform. It was up to her whether she wanted to come or jump. At most, he would catch her at the bottom of the platform to prevent her from hurting any vital parts below the navel.
The group chat pinged incessantly as Wei Zhi stood there, blushing.
Lao Yan finally couldn’t bear it anymore and shooed them away—
Flaunting their love in front of someone who just experienced a breakup was tactless.
After Wei Zhi and the others left, only Lao Yan and Jiang Nanfeng remained in the ward.
By now, Lao Yan had taken off his snow jacket, wearing only the hoodie underneath… the one Jiang Nanfeng had bought for him last time…
She tucked in his blanket and glanced at the clothes he was wearing. After a moment’s thought, she asked, “Do you think this is karma?”
At first, Lao Yan didn’t understand, thinking she was referring to how her brother had put him in the hospital. He was about to respond sarcastically with a forced smile, trying to appear strong, but before he could speak, he noticed her gaze and suddenly realized.
He used his uninjured hand to pull at the blanket, retreating under it without a word.
Jiang Nanfeng raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. “It’s good that you know how to feel shame.”
Lao Yan lay with one hand limp, only his eyes visible above the blanket. “I’ve already apologized to you. Don’t my mistakes deserve forgiveness?”
She remained silent, patting his blanket.
“I haven’t taught any female students since then,” he said, pursing his lips. “I barely taught at all, and when I did, it was only my previous male disciples.”
“Oh,” Jiang Nanfeng pondered. “Quite a few people came today.”
“…They’re all in Chongli. When they heard the news, they all came. I didn’t call them,” Lao Yan explained. “I barely spoke to them. Later, when I suddenly mentioned someone bringing food, it was to provoke you…”
He paused. “But you didn’t react at all, like a corpse.”
“Wasn’t the ‘facing widowhood’ on your short video platform about me?” Jiang Nanfeng said. “Perfect timing.”
Lao Yan’s sweet talk, which used to charm so many young girls, was now ineffective. He had tried everything – making their relationship public, acting cute, trying to provoke her…
Nothing worked.
He forcefully turned over, lying on his side with his uninjured arm underneath, his back to Jiang Nanfeng.
His arm was still connected to an IV drip. A young nurse came in, originally intending to check how much of the drip was left, but seeing his posture, she shrieked, “If you’re tired, you should stand up! How can you lie like this?” Amidst the chaos, the young man simply closed his eyes in despair, not saying a word.
The once-spirited young Tibetan mastiff had become a drowned dog.
Even breaking his arm couldn’t elicit any sympathy from her.
Lao Yan alternated between thinking, “What did I do wrong? Isn’t it just letting a friend wear the clothes she bought for me? Is that so bad?” and realizing, as Wei Zhi had said, that it wasn’t about the clothes or holding hands during lessons. It was about his past behavior of being too careless, and not giving her a sense of security.
…But why didn’t his previous girlfriends make a fuss?
Perhaps they knew they would inevitably break up with him; it was just a matter of time. So they didn’t bother to care.
Thinking about this made him appreciate his “sister” even more.
With this realization, without Jiang Nanfeng saying a word, just sitting there, Lao Yan had completely defeated himself.
…
Later, when the pain became unbearable, he had to get a painkiller injection.
After the injection, he felt drowsy and dozed off for a while. When he woke up, it was dark outside. Checking his phone, he saw it was past 1 AM. He had slept for quite a while.
He moved his injured hand slightly. The back of his hand, where he had received the IV drip earlier, was badly swollen. He hadn’t noticed while asleep. The nurse must have applied a warm compress, as there was now a lukewarm, slightly cool towel pressed against his side.
Only a desk lamp was lit in the ward.
It was an intensive care unit, but not for critical conditions. There weren’t many night rounds to disturb patients, so both the corridor and the ward were quite quiet. Water sounds came from the bathroom, with a shadow vaguely visible. He wasn’t sure who was in there…
Until a light thud came from the bathroom.
Lao Yan sat up.
He got out of bed.
The sound of rushing water from the bathroom became more distinct. The shower was on. Wearing slippers, he immediately saw Jiang Nanfeng sitting on the floor—
Not far from her was a basin that had tipped over, water spilled everywhere. The showerhead, originally upside down in the basin, had shifted, and water was spraying like a musical fountain.
Jiang Nanfeng had slipped. She looked a bit dazed.
Her clothes and hair were wet, not soaked through, but covered in water droplets.
She blinked confusedly, water droplets falling from her eyes as if striking the heart of the person behind her.
The bathroom doorway was suddenly blocked by a tall figure. In the rising steam from the hot water, she turned her head, maintaining empty, dark pupils, and locked eyes with the person who had woken up at some unknown time…
She didn’t even have time to react.
He stepped forward, one arm hanging limply, the other outstretched — who knows where he found such strength — effortlessly lifting her from the ground.
Stepping steadily into the bathroom in his slippers, he expressionlessly brushed past her to turn off the shower’s hot water valve. The bathroom suddenly fell silent…
So quiet they could hear each other’s breathing.
Lao Yan tilted his head slightly, maintaining his position from turning off the water. They were very close, close enough for him to smell her scent.
Their noses almost touching.
The young man remained silent, his face pale. That puppy-like face rarely lacked its dimpled smile, but now it was expressionless as he stared at her nose for a moment. He raised his hand, using his ring and little fingers to lift her chin slightly…
His middle finger secured the hold.
Then, with his somewhat rough thumb pad, he not-so-gently wiped away some of the water droplets from her face.
That coarse fingertip pressed against her soft cheek. Jiang Nanfeng frowned, seeming to come back to her senses, and turned her head slightly to avoid his hand—
“Zhao Keyan,” she said calmly, “don’t touch me.”
That cool voice echoed in the bathroom.
Feeling the rough wiping motion on her face stops — if it could even be called wiping, given how forceful his touch was…
Jiang Nanfeng looked up, meeting the young man’s pitch-black eyes, bottomless. At this moment, he finally showed a hint of his master’s demeanor.
“Fine,” Lao Yan withdrew his hand, “I won’t touch you.”
Then, in the next second, as Jiang Nanfeng let her guard down, he suddenly and without warning pressed on her shoulders, giving her a push—
Following her backward momentum, he bumped her with his shoulder. At the same time, the hand that had just pushed her now shielded her back from the wall, allowing her back to slam heavily against it without him even flinching.
He precisely captured her lips.
Finally engulfing the familiar scent, he let out an almost satisfied sigh…
Carefully yet complainingly, he gently bit her lower lip. Feeling her slightly yield, his tongue pried open her teeth, invading—
Slightly bent over, he pinned her between his chest and the wall, his uninjured hand still pressed behind her, domineering yet humble.
If she wanted, she could push him away immediately.
But even if she allowed him just thirty seconds of lingering, he would be immensely grateful.