The doorbell rang as the family was huddled in front of the TV watching the evening news program. Outside, the cold wind howled, and frost patterns adorned the windows. The table was set with dried fruits and fresh snacks, while pears and dates were soaked in a water basin.
When the doorbell sounded, the whole family exchanged bewildered glances. Shan Shan asked, “Who could it be at this hour?”
“Maybe it’s your Aunt Li returning the juicer she borrowed,” Shan’s mother said as she stood up and walked towards the door. “She borrowed it on August 15th. I’d almost forgotten about it… I even lost sleep for a few nights, wondering how to ask for it back.”
She called out “Who is it?” as she opened the door, hope in her voice.
The Shan family lived in an old faculty housing complex near the school. It was the kind of old neighborhood with a courtyard featuring ancient trees that had witnessed three generations growing up. The stairwell was open, without elevators or central heating. Large jars storing vegetables sat at the stair landings.
As the door opened, the winter chill rushed in, carrying not only the scent of ice and snow but also the smell of stored vegetables. Shan’s mother squinted against the gust.
In the dim, motion-activated light of the hallway stood a tall figure.
“Mom,” came a voice, neither loud nor soft, almost lost in the howling wind outside.
The person at the door was wrapped in a long black down jacket, wearing a knit cap and slightly worn Air Jordans. A large 32-inch suitcase stood beside him.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and magnetic, bearing the glorious traces of having perfectly navigated puberty.
Shan’s mother stood holding the door, staring at the young man outside. For a couple of seconds, she thought she might be hallucinating. She blinked, almost tempted to close the door, her hand even making the motion. After a moment, she turned back to look at the calendar on the wall—
It was only the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month.
Strictly speaking, except for some villages that still followed the old custom of “New Year starts after Laba Festival,” most urban dwellers hadn’t even begun their New Year countdown. Shopping for the festival wasn’t even on their agenda yet. Even the vendors selling New Year couplets probably hadn’t thought about setting up their stalls.
Yet here he was, the son they usually only saw on New Year’s Day.
Shan’s mother shifted her gaze back to the door, too shocked and delighted to speak for a good while. It wasn’t until Shan’s father mumbled, “What’s going on? Who is it? Why so quiet?” and stood up to peek around the corner that—
He saw the person standing outside at a glance.
Even with the backlight.
A father could recognize his son anywhere.
“Oh my!” Shan’s father exclaimed, stunned for a moment. Then, visibly, the light spread from the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes to his pupils. The middle-aged man’s previously languid eyes suddenly brightened. He exclaimed again, standing up!
Walking towards the door in his slippers, he boomed, “Well, well! Son, I thought you’d ignore your mother’s threats to come home early! But you really—wow! You came back!”
Brought back to her senses by her husband’s resounding shouts, Shan’s mother stepped aside, letting her son, who had been standing in the biting northwest wind for two minutes, bring his suitcase inside.
Watching him enter, call out greetings, and take off his coat was like observing a wild dog just returned home, shaking off its black fur and the chill from outside.
Shan Shan was still on the sofa, covered with a thin blanket and wearing a short-sleeved shirt. She leaned on the armrest, peering over with curious eyes. “The sun must be rising from the west! What day is it anyway?”
Everyone started moving about, and the room suddenly became lively.
The TV program, which had been the only sound, was now reduced to background noise.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Shan’s mother said as she took her son’s down jacket, still not quite recovered from the brief shock of joy. As she hung up the coat, she continued without looking back, “Did you get into some trouble out there again? Came back early to avoid a scolding, eh?”
Shan Chong took off his shoes, changed into slippers, and walked to the sofa. He looked down.
Ignoring the malicious speculations about his misdeeds, he relaxed in the familiar environment…
Hands in his pockets, he casually placed one foot on his sister’s shoulder.
He pressed down. “Move over. What are you doing, taking up the whole sofa?”
“Mom! Big brother is bullying me!”
“Stop squabbling. You haven’t even sat down and you’re already fighting!”
Shan’s mother stood nearby, watching Shan Shan grudgingly scoot over as Shan Chong sat down beside her—
Today had been non-stop for him. In the morning, he had diligently navigated the small forest trails; in the afternoon, he had impulsively driven to the airport after removing his board. Apart from the airplane food that even dogs would refuse, he hadn’t had a chance to eat anything extra… Now, sitting down, he felt exhausted and hungry, as if his whole body was falling apart.
He took out his phone and saw that about ten minutes ago, Wei Zhi had messaged asking if he was home yet…
Just as he was about to reply, his stomach growled. He paused in his typing, looked up, and asked if there was anything to eat.
“There’s still food in the pot. Your mom can make you some noodles,” Shan’s father said as he pushed his son’s suitcase into his room. “You didn’t even say why you came back early?”
Shan’s mother was about to head to the kitchen when she heard this. She stopped, turned around, and gave her son a once-over: “Did you get into trouble?”
Shan Chong had just sat up and fished a pear out of the water basin. He squeezed it, looking perplexed at the question. “What kind of trouble could I possibly get into?”
“Did you hit someone, or did someone hit you?”
“I was skiing in Chongli, not driving a tank there.”
“Then why did you come back early?”
Shan Chong fell silent, mainly pondering how to broach the subject. If he said his girlfriend had left and he felt lonely there alone, he’d surely invite ridicule…
As he was thinking, he looked up, and by some bizarre coincidence, the TV was showing a recent joint promotional activity between the cultural and entertainment department and next year’s Winter Olympics. It was the event Wei Zhi had participated in, where a group of entertainment industry folks and celebrities visited Olympic venues for inspiration.
The host was chattering away endlessly into the microphone.
Shan Chong looked down at his phone again. His temperamental girlfriend had asked a minute ago if he was ignoring her messages because he wanted to be blocked.
[Chong: I’m home. Hungry. Can I eat something first?]
The other side immediately showed “typing” and quickly replied with an “Oh.”
Putting down his phone, the man had an idea: “My girlfriend had an early morning flight. She was worried about me staying at the ski resort alone and insisted I come home too… so I came back.”
His tone was casual. After he finished speaking, the atmosphere in the room remained relaxed and harmonious.
Only Shan Shan sat up a bit, looking at him in confusion.
Shan’s mother was in the kitchen, muttering as she prepared the noodles without looking up: “I’ve raised you for so many years and barely managed to get you to come home for New Year’s Eve, but your girlfriend—”
Her voice abruptly stopped.
The middle-aged woman tossed the noodles into the pot of vegetables as if feeding pigs, covered the pot, wiped her hands, and walked out: “Shan Chong, you don’t even bother to think before lying now, do you? Girlfriend? Where did you get a girlfriend—”
Shan’s father also looked over at this.
Shan Chong had never imagined he’d be facing an interrogation before he could even settle in at home. He didn’t immediately respond to his parents but turned to Shan Shan, his tone calm: “With that big mouth of yours, you didn’t tell them?”
“I did tell them,” the girl said, hugging a plush dinosaur on the sofa. She met the man’s gaze and replied just as calmly, “Maybe my mouth was too big, and Mom didn’t take it seriously.”
“…”
Shan Chong let out an “Oh.”
He turned back to face his mother: “It’s true.”
Shan’s mother felt like this must be some special day. She’d be reluctant to close her eyes when her head hit the pillow later, afraid that if she blinked, she’d find it was dawn and all of this had been some ridiculous daydream.
“Where is she then?” She walked over and patted her son’s shoulder. “You have a girlfriend, and you even know how to teach her? Where is this girlfriend of yours?”
[I’ve heard… that the reason snowboarding started later is because, compared to skiing, it’s not very beginner-friendly. A good instructor plays a crucial role in guiding and encouraging brave newcomers who want to try snowboarding.]
From the TV came the soft voice of a young woman—the same voice he had heard this morning—
The same voice that had been muffled against his chest, asking softly, “Why don’t you seem to miss me at all?”
[As a pro who treats skiing like eating and drinking, how do you deal with those hardworking beginners who seem to struggle no matter how much they practice?]
Under the intense gaze of his whole family, Shan Chong turned his head to look at the TV. On the screen, the young woman wore a mask and a fluffy white hoodie… The camera always makes people look a bit heavier than they are in real life, and confined to the small screen, her already slightly chubby face looked adorably round.
She was incredibly cute, even without hearing her speak. One look was enough to tell she was some family’s well-cared-for daughter, speaking politely and slowly…
Below was a caption: Contracted manga author for XX website: Otaku.
He didn’t recognize what XX website was, probably another healthy version of the pink manga app.
The man narrowed his eyes slightly, admiring for a moment before lazily gesturing with his chin towards the TV screen: “That’s her.”
The whole family’s gaze shifted in unison to the TV.
Three seconds later, they all turned back to the young man sitting nonchalantly on the sofa.
Shan Shan hesitated, about to say that the voice did sound similar, but—
Shan’s father remained silent.
Shan’s mother was more direct: “Did you hit your head while skiing? You’re just picking out some pretty girl on TV and calling her your wife? Oh my, you might as well not have come back if you’re just here to annoy us! Forget it, just forget it!”
She waved her hand as she turned back to the kitchen.
She’d rather watch the pot of noodles than look at her seemingly delusional son for another moment.
…
The treatment at home was indeed different.
At the ski resort, Shan Chong had to use his stern face to keep people in check, shutting their gossipy mouths from constantly asking, “How did Shan Chong end up with a girlfriend who’s barely out of snowboarding kindergarten?”
At home, the situation flipped completely. Now his family unanimously believed he was suffering from delusions.
After eating and washing up, it was nearly eleven when he got into bed. The man sat on the edge of the bed, drying his hair, when a video call came through.
Wei Zhi was also hiding in bed. From the background, it was clear she was sitting on her small apartment bed. Her voice, identical to the one on TV, chirped away as she reported to him—
She told him about meeting two snowboarders on crutches on the plane who were park enthusiasts. They recognized her because they knew Shan Youmu and asked when Shan Chong would make a comeback since Shan Youmu had already appeared;
She reported that she had dinner with her family after getting home;
She reported that she had updated her manga in the afternoon when she had nothing else to do;
She reported that after a busy day, she had just finished washing up and gotten into bed.
It had only been a day apart. Just over ten hours without being in each other’s sight. Yet she seemed to have endless things to say as if trying to make up for every second they couldn’t communicate while she was on the plane.
Shan Chong looked at the young woman captured on his phone screen and regretted not tucking her into his pocket to bring home. She was so tiny, it wouldn’t have been any trouble at all.
As this loving thought overwhelmed him, the corners of his lips turned up slightly. He waited for her to finish her excited chatter about whether he’d eaten dinner so late and if he needed to order takeout. Only then did he slowly respond, “I ate.”
“While I was having dinner,” Shan Chong continued unhurriedly, “the TV showed that event we attended. They featured your interview segment separately. I pointed at the screen and said, ‘That’s my girlfriend.'”
The other end of the line suddenly went quiet.
The young woman, who had been bouncing around like an energetic bird on a telephone pole, fell silent. Her round eyes widened slowly. After a moment, she sprang up like a jumping fish, asking “Which channel?” while lunging towards her computer.
He could hear what sounded like her tearing the room apart. Suddenly, she vanished from the phone screen.
Lying on the bed, he changed position, wishing he could pull her back. But separated by thousands of miles, he was helpless. The man sighed, feeling deeply frustrated.
“It’s fine, they didn’t believe me,” he said slowly. “Relax.”
A few minutes later, Wei Zhi returned to the screen. “Why didn’t they believe you?”
“You’re too adorable.”
The young woman on the screen fell silent, seemingly unimpressed. She asked, “Can you be serious about such an important topic?”
“Anyway, they just didn’t believe it,” Shan Chong rolled over in bed, yawning. “My mom said I was randomly claiming any pretty girl on TV as my wife. She acted like I’d offended some international superstar.”
What girl doesn’t like being called pretty?
Even through the slightly blurry phone screen, the man saw her eyes brighten. “Really? ‘Pretty girl’?”
Seeing her happy and no longer nervous, he finally quirked his lips and made an affirmative sound.
She suddenly flopped back onto her bed with a soft “poof” as she hit the fluffy comforter.
“Shan Chong,” she called, her voice sweet and deliberately low, sounding a million times more endearing than on TV.
“I miss you,” she said.
…
Before this, Wei Zhi had always thought those people online who stayed on voice calls while sleeping were ridiculous. Snoring, grinding teeth – how embarrassing, right?
But when it happened to her, the standards seemed to shift. Mainly because later in Chongli, she had fallen asleep almost every night with her head buried in the man’s chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.
On this night, she was reluctant to hang up the phone.
It wasn’t just her who missed him.
That afternoon, right after Shan Chong boarded the plane, the senior disciple posted a short video in their group chat of the plane flying overhead. He tagged Wei Zhi, saying that now that she was gone, their master had lost his spirit. He didn’t want to ski, didn’t want to jump, couldn’t even carve properly…
The backstabbing conclusion: Dating does affect one’s blade speed.
Wei Zhi hypocritically expressed surprise in the group chat – “Oh, he went home too?” – while strongly feeling the satisfaction of being needed.
Her attitude was very good that day.
From the moment Shan Chong got off the plane, she fussed over him, mixed with a bit of coquettishness. She was incredibly clingy.
They chatted for a while that evening, and the atmosphere became so sweet… Oh my, she even worried that Shan Chong missed her too much, affecting his normal life and routine – imagining him crying secretly under the covers.
In the end, she fell asleep listening to his voice. She didn’t know when he ended the call, but when she checked the next morning, it seemed he had listened to her sleeping for a while before hanging up.
It was so sweet.
When Wei Zhi woke up at noon the next day, she felt even her preserved egg and lean pork congee tasted sweet. She smiled the whole time, thoroughly disgusting Jiang Nanfeng, who was having breakfast with her.
“If you keep smiling at that bowl of congee, I’m going to dump it on your face,” Jiang Nanfeng threatened.
“Don’t be so fierce!”
“…And don’t act coy with me either,” Jiang Nanfeng tossed away the half-eaten char siu bao in her hand. “Ugh!”
Wei Zhi rolled her eyes at her, confidently declaring, “This is just jealousy.”
“Me?” Jiang Nanfeng nearly laughed out loud at the sight of her, brain-addled by lovesickness, acting like a young girl experiencing her first crush. “Jealous of what?”
“Didn’t you use the excuse of Lao Yan’s classes when you two were fighting?” Wei Zhi stirred her congee with one hand while tugging at Jiang Nanfeng’s sleeve with the other, deliberately using an annoying tone. “My boyfriend is different. To reassure me, he’s not only skipping classes but he’s not even at the ski resort!”
Jiang Nanfeng patiently listened to her finish, then looked her up and down as if examining a mental patient. She let out an absurd “Ha!” and said, “Sure, sure, sure. Whatever you say!”
“How is it not true?”
As the other woman rolled her eyes and yanked her sleeve back, the young girl teased her while continuing to text her boyfriend on her phone.
That morning, he had woken up even earlier than her, and they had chatted non-stop for several hours…
Then Shan Chong said he was having lunch and had to go out.
Their chat frequency finally decreased.
Wei Zhi glanced at WeChat. Their chat history was still frozen at half an hour ago when she asked what he had for lunch. About five minutes ago, the man finally replied that he had eaten something quick, and his signal wasn’t very good now.
This drop in chat frequency felt a bit like the fall of Waterloo.
[Little Chirp: Where did you go?]
[Little Chirp: How come the signal is bad?]
[Little Chirp: What have you been busy with all morning, suddenly disappearing?]
After ten minutes, the other side finally replied:
[Chong: In the car.]
…
If Wei Zhi hadn’t quite figured out in the morning what kind of “car” could have such a poor signal…
By dinnertime, she suddenly realized that the so-called “car” was a “train.”
Ridiculous, right?
She thought it was pretty absurd too.
It was while casually pulling out her phone during dinner to check on her boyfriend’s short video platform activity that she was caught completely off guard. Without any mental preparation, the first thing she saw was a post from an unfamiliar snow sports enthusiast:
White text on a black background, with a northeastern man’s voice narrating.
[Guess who my son ran into at Songhua Lake?]
The next second, the screen cuts to a man dressed in a black – hoodie, and sweatpants, wearing a black safety helmet. He leaped from an unfamiliar ski slope, an unfamiliar park, an unfamiliar jumping platform. It was just a small jump, but he casually performed a double cork 360, landing perfectly!
As the sun set, the man’s silhouette was long and graceful, his movements as fluid as flowing clouds and water, drawing wild whistles and cheers from the surrounding crowd!
The northeastern man’s voiceover continued:
[A god descends upon Songhua Lake, truly amazing.]
[If you want free technical guidance in the park, come quick!]
Wei Zhi: “…”
It’s not an exaggeration to say she was stunned.
Opening the comments section, she found others as bewildered as her. One fellow commenter asked: Who’s this? Shan Chong? He’s at Songhua Lake? Today?
The original poster replied: Yep, just arrived. Scared us to death (laughing crying emoji)
Wei Zhi: “…”
The Jilin snow enthusiasts weren’t the only ones shocked.
Talk about love conquering all—
The man who had shaken the snow sports world and brainwashed everyone by dramatically fleeing Chongli for love…
Had appeared the very next day at Songhua Lake Ski Resort in Jilin City, Jilin Province.
Nice.
*Slow clap* 🙂