The uninvited guest had vanished without a trace.
Wei Zhi angrily withdrew her gaze, spitting twice as if to ward off bad luck. She rubbed her nose and lifted her head, intending to continue complaining. However, she was utterly stunned when she saw the person before her.
The man who always dressed in black like a crow had now become a snowman.
The snow wall that had suddenly risen had engulfed everything, and the person who shielded her in his embrace became the final barrier. Snow covered his broad shoulders, back, and helmet at this moment. The stark white against the black background created a shocking contrast.
Snowflakes clung to his eyelashes, yet he seemed completely unfazed. He didn’t appear angry either.
By now, people on the ski slope had noticed the commotion and were looking over curiously from afar. After all, spraying someone with snow wasn’t typical behavior unless it was friends playing around or posing for photos. Unprovoked snow attacks usually indicated either a serious illness or a deep-seated grudge.
Yet the person responsible hadn’t even paused to offer an apologetic glance.
Judging from Shan Chong’s silence and the oppressive atmosphere, Wei Zhi recalled how he interacted with his real friends:
He spoke little.
He commanded respect.
But he certainly never radiated an icy coldness like he’d just crawled out of a frozen lake, like some Night’s King.
So it was obvious that what had just transpired fell far outside the realm of “friendly play.”
No one spoke. Wei Zhi broke the silence first.
“Snow is about to fall into your collar,” she said.
Gone was her usual chirpy, energetic tone. The young woman lifted her ski goggles, furrowing her brow with rare seriousness.
As she spoke, she removed her gloves. With warm hands, she gently brushed away the precarious clump of snow at the edge of Shan Chong’s collar.
Her soft, uncalloused fingertips lightly grazed his tense neck.
The unexpected warmth made Shan Chong instinctively recoil slightly.
“Don’t move,” Wei Zhi mumbled.
She tugged at his sleeve, signaling him to stand still. Rising on her toes, with her ski tips deeply embedded in the snow, she stretched out her arms. Carefully, she brushed the snow off his helmet, shoulders, and hair.
Soon, her fair hands turned red from the cold, her fingertips tingling from contact with the ice.
She didn’t seem to mind, focusing intently on her task. As she carefully reached around the man’s shoulders, trying to pat away the snow from the back of his neck and face guard…
Suddenly, her wrist was grasped without warning.
The slightly damp, thin glove gripped her wrist.
The icy touch startled her. Simultaneously, the grip on her hand tightened imperceptibly.
“I’ve told you before, the wind is strong on the mountain,” the man’s voice was low and slightly hoarse, devoid of much emotion. “Don’t take off your gloves carelessly.”
Though his words were admonishing, they surprisingly lacked any harshness.
This is usually a fierce and acerbic person…
Unexpectedly, his mood seemed to have shifted.
It was as if the earlier gloom had suddenly dissipated.
Those within his small sphere of influence could breathe freely again.
Wei Zhi stood there with her hand raised, somewhat bewildered. She couldn’t quite understand how someone’s aura could change so quickly, or if her radar was malfunctioning.
While she was in a daze, the man, seemingly accustomed to her occasional disconnection, sighed and retrieved her gloves hanging from her elbow, helping her put them back on.
As her fingertips slipped back into the still-warm gloves, the discomfort of cold numbness receded like an ebbing tide, warmth returning to her body.
“Shall we continue?” she heard him ask near her ear.
Wei Zhi responded with an “Oh,” grabbing his wrist and resuming her forward-edge pushing stance. After a moment’s hesitation, she fixed her gaze on the zipper of his snow jacket and cautiously spoke up.
“Um,” Wei Zhi asked, “that person just now, do you know them?”
“Mm,” he replied.
The expected resistance didn’t materialize, nor did he reproach her for meddling. His answer was remarkably calm.
“Do you have a grudge?”
“No.”
Shan Chong’s voice indeed sounded as if he were discussing someone completely irrelevant.
“Just someone I knew in the past.”
As if everything that had just occurred was merely an anecdote, Wei Zhi tugged at his hand and began her halting forward-edge push. Her mouth wasn’t idle either. “Where did you meet such an impolite person?”
“Mm, I apologize.”
“What are you apologizing for?”
“If the child is not taught, it’s the father’s fault.”
“…”
How could there be someone in this world with such incredibly sharp verbal skills?
So much for “not getting angry after being covered in snow”…
He must have been furious.
…
At the snow park, on the adjacent peak to the advanced C trail.
In the middle of the advanced B trail, there weren’t many people in the park today. A few individuals were scattered around various features, with the occasional sharp sound of board edges scraping against metal rails or barrels…
But those here were accustomed to it. To them, it was like the prelude to “The Blue Danube,” elegant and melodious.
Bei Ci and Lao Yan crouched side by side nearby, slacking off.
With a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the young man in punk attire squinted as he watched his little apprentice attempt the jump. The apprentice wobbled as he approached the ramp, then panicked and landed flat on his backside with a “splat.”
Bei Ci yawned, drawing out his instructions: “When you reach the point I told you about earlier, stop edging and keep your board flat, okay? Otherwise, you won’t have enough speed, you’ll panic when you get up there, and panicking always leads to falling…”
“I even drew a line for you to keep your board flat, how did you still edge past it…” Lao Yan chimed in with a laugh. “It’s a good thing your grandmother isn’t here. Otherwise, you’d get an earful.”
The little apprentice smiled wryly, rubbing his backside as he climbed out from behind the snow pile.
Bei Ci’s eyes flickered, about to deliver a few more cutting remarks when his phone rang in his waistpack.
He extinguished his cigarette butt in the snow pile by his feet and took out his phone. Glancing at it, he saw the caller was a fellow disciple from the same school, someone he occasionally chatted with but wasn’t particularly close to.
He wasn’t sure why they were calling.
So Bei Ci casually pressed the answer button: “Hey, what’s up? Got something to say? I’m on the mountain with an apprentice.”
At this point, Lao Yan had finished resting and stood up, bending over to put on his board.
He had just secured one binding when he heard Bei Ci raise his voice slightly to ask “Who?” and then fall silent.
He paused, turning his head to look at Bei Ci, who had gradually lost the lazy, carefree expression on his face. The hand holding the phone showed slightly protruding veins on the back.
“?”
Bei Ci was usually never serious, more prone to acting cute than any young lady, with a WeChat full of adorable cat emojis—
But in reality, like Shan Chong, he was quite arrogant.
Even if he smiled at everyone, it didn’t mean he truly cared about many people.
His current behavior was rather unusual. Lao Yan didn’t even bother to secure his other binding, crouching down next to Bei Ci. Just as he was about to lean in and listen to the phone conversation, Bei Ci pushed him away before he could get close.
He wobbled, nearly sitting down, and raised an eyebrow with a hiss. He was about to curse when he heard Bei Ci ask the person on the phone: “Are you sure you didn’t see wrong? Isn’t he in Changbai Mountain?”
Changbai Mountain?
That was a place with history.
Lao Yan froze at these words.
He dragged his snowboard while still crouching, moving from Bei Ci’s side to face him directly.
Feeling his intense gaze, Bei Ci lifted his eyelids to glance at him. In that one-second eye contact, they completed a wordless question and answer—
They didn’t need to go to this trouble…
Because they soon got their answer.
There was a commotion at the park entrance.
Bei Ci’s eyelid twitched as he craned his neck to look—
And then his eyelid twitched even more violently.
A figure in light-colored clothing slid into the park entrance at high speed. Unlike most people who would stop, take off their board, find the feature they wanted to practice on, put their board back on, and then approach the feature, this person headed straight for the highest, currently empty ramp in the park—
Recklessly keeping his board flat.
Gaining speed.
Rapidly ascending the ramp.
An outward 1080 rotation followed by a backflip on landing, with a dull “thud” as the snowboard landed firmly on the snow. A beautiful tail slide, then an abrupt stop with the front edge.
This series of dazzling moves caused everyone in the park to stop what they were doing and turn to look. An unprecedented silence fell over the entire area.
Whether the onlookers’ gazes were friendly or not didn’t matter, as the newcomer paid them no attention. He raised his hand, removing his safety helmet and goggles to reveal his face.
Beneath the goggles and face guard was a young man with monolids, slightly upturned eye corners, and thin eyelids…
The kind of face that naturally made people feel he wasn’t easy to get along with.
“Dai Duo.”
Bei Ci called out the newcomer’s name with an unprecedentedly alert and tense tone.
“Why aren’t you staying in Changbai Mountain? What are you doing in Zhangjiakou?”
The greeting was immediately unfriendly.
An unwelcoming atmosphere hung in the air.
Under everyone’s gaze, the person who had been called out by name bent down to release his bindings, took off his board, and straightened up. With a flick of his toe, the snowboard flipped up into his hand.
“I didn’t know I was blacklisted from Zhangjiakou when the ski resort is open for business,” he said, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. He first looked down to brush some snow off his board, then suddenly smiled. “I got bored of the jumps in Changbai Mountain. Am I not allowed to come to Zhangjiakou to take a look?”
…
If you’re bored of jumps, may I suggest trying hanging instead, dear?
Bei Ci didn’t want to waste words with this person—
Why did he come?
Why did he suddenly appear?
He didn’t even want to ask.
From the moment he saw this person appear, he just wanted him to leave quickly.
Under Bei Ci’s impatient gaze, the latter slowly finished his statement: “By the way, I came to see what kind of bird’s nest Shan Chong is hiding in.”
With these words, the air suddenly froze.
“Life must be good here, huh? Spacious slopes, a deserted park with just a few cats, where anyone who can slide across a rail gets applause. Such an average skill level…”
The young man named Dai Duo spoke slowly—
“I heard that people who play in parks and do flatland tricks in Zhangjiakou don’t like coming to this resort. They all gather at the one at the foot of the mountain… Hey, Bei Ci, what kind of secret move is Shan Chong creating with you guys behind closed doors here? An outward 2160? Or maybe the country’s first 2340? Oh, that’s unlikely, there isn’t even an 8-meter jump here.”
“…”
Bei Ci silently removed his safety helmet.
Lao Yan put a hand on his shoulder, signaling him to stay calm.
However, Dai Duo glanced at Bei Ci and showed no sign of stopping—
“I’m envious! I am! When I retire someday, I’d like to live like this too. Gather a bunch of random nobodies as disciples, put them in a WeChat group, flatter them daily with sweet talk, surrounded by followers, commanding instant responses. They’d call me their eternal god… And when I’m free, I’d find a young girl, hold her hand, and teach her how to push—”
He paused as if remembering something, then let out a derisive laugh.
This sneer instantly snapped the last thread of rationality in everyone present.
Lao Yan, unable to contain himself any longer, released Bei Ci’s shoulder.
Bei Ci immediately bent down to loosen his ski boots, ready for a fight.
Both of them were like unleashed wild dogs, pawing at the ground—
“You seem to have a lot of opinions. Couldn’t you have just messaged me on WeChat instead of buying a plane ticket to fly over here?”
A deep male voice suddenly sounded from behind.
Slightly hoarse, yet sharp as if honed on a whetstone.
Everyone was taken aback.
Looking up towards the voice, they saw a man in black snow gear dragging his snowboard, entering the park from the entrance.
He had already removed his goggles and face guard, his handsome face now wearing an indifferent expression.
On the bridge of his nose, a light-colored mole was almost hidden in the shadow of his high, straight nose.
Walking up to the person in white snow gear, he tossed aside his snowboard and stood firm. “I haven’t blocked you on WeChat.”
Shan Chong’s voice was neither loud nor soft, just loud enough for not only Dai Duo but everyone present to hear.
“Why are you here ranting like an abandoned wife?”