Shan Chong slept soundly on his own, though he wasn’t the type to fall asleep instantly and stay that way until dawn. After Wei Zhi came into his life, she became like a comforting pillow for a child, allowing him to sleep until late morning…
Usually, he’d open his eyes around seven or eight, gather the young woman who had rolled to various corners of the bed back into his arms, then close his eyes for another nap.
He no longer had those strange, kaleidoscopic dreams.
Dreams often reflect life’s greatest regrets or allow us to glimpse those we miss dearly—as if briefly obtaining our heart’s desire in a parallel world. Upon waking, the lingering effects, treating symptoms but not the cause, leave one feeling even worse.
Shan Chong hadn’t dreamed of standing on the competition platform for a long time.
Previously, he often dreamed of the PyeongChang Winter Olympics, reliving his second and third jumps. In these dreams, instead of choosing a flat spin 2160, he opted for a cork axis 1800. He’d land it successfully and ascend the podium amidst cheers in various languages…
Strangely enough, he hadn’t initially felt that his setback at the PyeongChang Olympics was particularly significant.
In retrospect, he realized it was because he naively believed he still had plenty of time and would have another Winter Olympics ahead.
After retiring, he frequently dreamed of his final competition. In these dreams, he didn’t make mistakes; he won medals and submitted a satisfactory answer to his country, coaches, and himself as an athlete.
He almost thought he’d never escape these nightmares.
Until this night, on the second day of his return to Changbai Mountain, he had another dream.
In the dream, he wore clothes similar to those of countless training teams, with the five-starred red flag embroidered on his arm and chest.
He stood at the starting gate, waiting to begin. The stands were full of spectators, and the official language of the venue’s broadcast was Chinese. They announced, “Now entering, Shan Chong, representing China in the snowboard big air event.”
It wasn’t PyeongChang—for the first time in his dreams, he was at the Beijing Winter Olympics.
Under the blue sky, the white snow reflected a shimmering light onto his goggles. He gripped the starting gate’s railing, the cold metal feeling real against his hand.
Wang Xin inexplicably appeared behind him, arms crossed, saying, “Don’t take risks. Stay steady, and you can win a medal.”
He replied, “Oh.”
As he bent down to adjust his bindings once more, thunderous applause erupted from the spectator stands. He prepared to start amidst this ovation…
And then he woke up.
When he awoke, it wasn’t yet fully light outside.
Snow had begun to fall on Changbai Mountain, the flakes making soft sounds as they hit the window. The cold wind outside couldn’t penetrate the room; the hotel’s heating was more than adequate, almost too warm.
Beneath the fluffy down comforter, the young woman slept restlessly—
Probably due to the heat, half of her body was outside the covers. Her arm was draped softly across his chest, and one leg was also outside the blanket…
Her nightgown was disheveled, having ridden up to the top of her thighs, revealing a glimpse of her underwear’s edge and pattern. White cotton with little bear designs.
She lay on her side, koala-like, embracing the comforter and him within it. Her head was buried in the pillow, sleeping soundly.
…At least, she had been sleeping soundly.
But as soon as Shan Chong moved, she woke up.
The saying “A man’s tears are rare, but when they fall, they’re like atomic bombs” isn’t an exaggeration. After that afternoon’s incident, perhaps unsettled by her boyfriend’s reaction, Wei Zhi had treated him like her own son for the rest of the day—
She’d practically followed him into the bathroom, ready to offer support.
Now, still groggy, she sensed the person in her arms moving slightly. She mumbled “Mm?” and lifted her head. Before the man could speak, her soft paw, still fragrant with body lotion, reached out to touch his face. “Did you have a nightmare?” she asked.
Her tone suggested she was the one still half-asleep.
Shan Chong sighed. Meanwhile, her fingertips had already traveled from his chin to his lips, caressing them briefly before moving to pinch his ear—
It wasn’t intentional.
Just an unconscious action born of sleepiness.
Shan Chong grasped her wrist, his thumb gently rubbing her pulse point. Only then did she struggle to open her eyes in the moonlight, looking up at the man. “What did you dream about?” she asked.
The relaxed and tranquil atmosphere around them created a sense of temporal confusion, blurring the line between dream and reality… The applause from the people in his dream still echoed in his ears.
Shan Chong chuckled, somewhat amused at himself: “A fantasy.”
The person in his arms nuzzled closer. Originally, her chin had been resting on his arm, but now she shifted to lean against his shoulder. Her soft hair brushed against his neck as she said, “Dreams are the best reflection of a person’s deepest thoughts.”
He played with her fingertips, saying nothing.
“What were you doing in the dream?”
“…The Winter Olympics,” he said. Perhaps the night’s atmosphere had lowered his guard, making it suddenly easier to voice difficult thoughts. “Beijing.”
She yawned. “Do you want to go?”
“Not necessarily.”
He was still being evasive.
“Shan Chong, close your eyes and imagine if you gave up now.”
“?”
Feeling the man she was leaning against stiffen for a few seconds, she kept her eyes half-closed, not acknowledging his reaction.
She simply continued with her thoughts.
“About a year from now, you’re sitting in the spectator stands, becoming one of those applauding for your former teammates—you watch him approach the jump, his first attempt, maybe he’ll do a, do a fs cork 1800?” she said slowly in a voice devoid of any aggression. “You might think to yourself, why not go for a 2160 or even 2340 on the first jump? Is he a coward?”
In the hotel room, only the floor lamp cast a barely noticeable glow.
Her voice sounded as if she were sleep-talking.
“You feel it’s a waste, you sit there thinking, if it were you, you definitely wouldn’t do it like that—
But when he lands steadily and the surrounding spectators start to applaud, you’re forced to join in the applause, and at that moment you suddenly realize, you’re just a spectator.”
She’d be quite suitable as a kindergarten teacher—
Her storytelling inexplicably drew one in.
Lying in bed, holding her in his arms, he felt as if he was sitting at the competition venue as she described. In the spectator stands, his heart filled with jealousy and disdain, wondering how such an unaggressive person could waste a spot in the competition, anxious about how Wang Xin had planned the three jumps…
Thank you for the invitation, he was already starting to feel anxious.
“For the second jump, he attempts a double cork 1800, a very difficult move. You hold your breath for him.”
As Wei Zhi spoke, she felt Shan Chong’s hand, which had been playing with her fingers, come to a stop.
“He doesn’t stick the landing, his backside goes out, he lands on his back edge and falls. The commentator sighs at the announcer’s desk, saying this move was a bit risky.”
She continued, “You sit in the spectator stands, completely baffled about what went wrong with that double cork, thinking that after the 1800 setup, 2340 would have been the best choice… But amidst the sighs of those around you, you’re reminded once again that you’re just a spectator.”
While he was in a daze, her hand that wasn’t being held by him gently brushed against his neck.
“The third jump begins. He’s already ranked outside the top ten. There are Americans, Canadians, and Australians ahead of him. His mindset has crumbled, he’s given up—after a straight air, he does a mute grab, pulls the board, and ends the semi-final.”
The man remained silent.
“Amidst polite applause from the stands, the commentators sigh and say, ‘Well, that’s alright. Let’s thank…,'” she paused, unable to come up with a name, “Let’s thank this Chinese athlete for the three exciting jumps he’s shown us.”
In her description, she heard his heartbeat accelerate, pounding powerfully in his chest as she lay close to him.
So she paused for a moment.
“You sit there in the venue, thinking about how the spot you’ve dreamed of has been wasted like this, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re just a spectator.”
[“You’re just a spectator.”]
This short phrase, repeated three times, was like a hypnotic mantra. The final repetition struck like lightning.
The young woman’s hand slid from the man’s neck to his chest, giving it a light pat. Her soft, even voice became the only sound besides the wind and snow outside—
“Sitting in the spectator stands, you close your eyes, thinking how fucking great it would be if this were just a nightmare. If there were such a thing as a pill of regret in this world, you’d spend the last cent in your bank account to buy it and swallow it whole…”
She climbed up.
“When you open your eyes, the regret pill would take you back in time to a year ago. A year ago, before the Winter Olympics began, when the Sports Bureau told you, ‘Shan Chong, each country is limited to three participants per event, but the host country gets an extra spot that isn’t even restricted by FIS points… Just focus on getting your points. If you can’t get enough, we’ll push you through anyway. Although the process might not be glorious, if we achieve a good result, it’ll shut everyone up—'”
The white down comforter slipped from her shoulders.
The young woman used her hands and feet to climb onto the man’s waist, straddling him and settling in place.
She was fully awake now. Her hair, like seaweed, fell soft and fluffy over her pale, smooth shoulders. She leaned down slightly, drawing closer to the man.
Her hands came together in a soft clap about a fist’s width from his nose.
The man was startled.
He saw the person sitting on top of him, tilting her head as she looked at him. Her round eyes were still bright in the darkness. The corners of her pale lips curved up slightly. “Welcome back from your time travel. Was the regret pill strawberry flavored?”
…
His large hands grasped her arms, which had grown a bit cold from being exposed outside the blanket for so long.
Compared to his frame, every part of her body seemed tiny, barely the size of his palm, except for the crucial area on her chest. He could encompass her entirely with just one hand—
He pulled her shoulders towards his chest, feeling her warm breath on the tip of his nose.
They were very close.
In the darkness, a brief moment of eye contact.
Accompanied by Wei Zhi’s small yelp, amid the rustling of soft bedding, she was pressed into the mattress. Her white body, the white sheets, and her white nightgown contrasted sharply with her black hair and eyes…
In the night, the stark black and white was striking.
His hand, slightly curved, supported him near her hair as he leaned down. His hot breath enveloped her before capturing her lips. As their soft tongues intertwined, she relaxed after a moment of surprise…
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her soft fingertips threading through his hair, tracing his scalp. The electric touch traveled from his scalp down his spine and throughout his body.
“You’re quite the storyteller,” he murmured, sucking on her lower lip. His voice was slightly husky, tinged with a hint of annoyance at being drawn into her tale and a well-hidden, almost imperceptible excitement.
As soon as he finished speaking, he expected her to whimper and beg for mercy or try to escape as she had before. But to his surprise, her hands remained around his neck…
The person lying beneath him flashed him a bright smile and said in a slightly coquettish voice, “Of course, that’s my job. In the industry, we call it a special second-person perspective—”
She couldn’t finish her sentence.
The next second, her eyes widened.
When the man’s hand emerged from under the blanket, about to toss her little bear-printed underwear to the floor, she exclaimed, “Ah! I just changed those, I still need to wear them,” then, realizing something was amiss, added, “What are you planning to do? Do you have any safety precautions? Because I don’t…”
He ignored her completely, casually balling up the small piece of fabric that inexplicably smelled faintly of milk, and stuffed it into her hand. “Then you hold onto it.”
Wei Zhi held her bear-printed underwear, bewildered.
Seeing the man lift the blanket slightly, he said calmly, “Your story wasn’t bad. I’m not going to do anything, just reward you a bit.”
…And indeed, he didn’t do “anything.”
He just disappeared under the blanket.
Under the covers, she initially had the strength to kick at his shoulders, but soon lost all energy. Only her collarbone and above remained visible at the edge of the blanket. Her originally pale skin now seemed to be on fire, flushed a watery red.
Her calves lazily hooked over his back as she bit her back teeth, both hands tightly covering her mouth to prevent any sound from escaping. Only her breathing, interspersed with the rise and fall of the covers, alternated between relaxed and intense.
The corners of her eyes were slightly red.
She tried to drag her legs, which felt like putty, intending to ask if he was done teasing her. However, before she could speak, the words on her lips transformed into soft whimpers…
Exhausted after one round.
She reached into the blanket, wanting to pull him out to reason with him—
Her slightly cold hand entered the warm cocoon only to be seized, and she was promptly flipped over.
She lay on her stomach, her nightgown bunched up around her waist.
“Ah, not there!” she cried out.
She crawled forward on her hands and knees, but her ankle was firmly grasped. Pulled back under the covers.
Outside, the snow had changed from mixed flakes to large goose feather-like flurries. The sound of scattered snowflakes hitting the window had ceased. In the room, heavy with an amorous atmosphere, only the young woman’s sobs, seemingly forever on the brink of breakdown, remained.
…
As the sun peeked over the horizon.
[Chong: Are you up?]
[Doing Good Deeds: 1]
[Chong: Did Wang Xin send you guys the video yesterday?]
[Doing Good Deeds: Yeah, you dare to ask? You’re something else, secretly dropping a smoke bomb about being at Songhua Lake Ski Resort, then sneaking off to Changbai Mountain… And then staging a large-scale extreme sports melodrama at Changbai Mountain. Even Korean dramas wouldn’t dare to be this dramatic.]
[Doing Good Deeds: TVB might though.]
[Chong: …]
[Chong: How did the family react?]
[Doing Good Deeds: Don’t know, they went to their room after watching the video last night. Gotta give people time to process, right?]
[Doing Good Deeds: I’ll see what’s for breakfast. If it’s a normal breakfast, you might have a chance. If it’s the wind from the northwest…]
[Doing Good Deeds: You might consider spending the New Year with Wang Xin in Changbai Mountain or Jilin?]
[Chong: .]
[Doing Good Deeds: What? How come you’re so impatient? I thought you wouldn’t ask and just wait for the results.]
[Chong: I was patient originally.]
[Chong: Someone stirred things up and made me impatient.]
[Doing Good Deeds: Ah! It’s Jiji!]
They even used nicknames; these two must-chat nonsense quite often.
Shan Chong ignored her, just glancing away from his phone screen. The young woman he’d mentioned was now curled up beside him, one strap of her nightgown hanging loosely off her shoulder, the corners of her eyes tinged red, still clutching her bear-printed underwear…
She looked exactly like some pure, victimized maiden.
The man rolled over, moving closer to her. As his breath neared, she let out a coquettish “Aiya” and frowned, shrinking her shoulders as if avoiding some predator.
His lips curled into a smile as he dragged her back, pulling and hugging her into his arms. She ended up sprawled on top of him—
Looking utterly wronged.
Yet her smooth legs brushed against his, rubbing slightly.
Her eyes rolled in their sockets.
He raised his hand and patted her bottom, signaling her to behave and stop moving. With just the thin fabric of her nightgown between them, the sound was exceptionally crisp and springy. She yelped “Aiya” and simply straddled his thighs.
Shan Chong froze, his hands on her waist, looking down at her.
She pouted and asked, “What are you doing?”
Shan Chong’s face remained expressionless: “Get off.”
Wei Zhi: “You pulled me up here.”
Yes, that’s true.
But he hadn’t told her to straddle his thighs like this.
She was wearing a nightgown.
Now the skirt was in disarray, and the feeling against his thighs—
A vein throbbed at his temple as the man realized she was retaliating, still holding a grudge from earlier. He lowered his eyes and used a gentleness his other disciples could only dream of: “Don’t tease, get off… Be good.”
Even as he spoke these insincere words, he raised his leg slightly.
Her heart raced as she followed his movement, collapsing onto his chest. She lifted her chin, her vision blurry and her mind muddled, almost forgetting that she had come to seek revenge…
In the end, she was the one hugging his neck, whimpering softly again, asking him to satisfy her.
The man broke out in a sweat, kissing her lips and coaxing her gently. He explained that he hadn’t brought any safety measures for a simple ski trip, asking her to be patient.
Finally, the embarrassed and angry young woman kicked him hard twice, like a donkey.
His thigh was bruised from her kicks.
As she wrapped herself in the blanket like a caterpillar and rolled to the edge of the bed, closing her eyes and refusing to look at him, the man sat up and tried to wrestle the blanket from her… As they struggled, he heard her make a sound.
Her delicate white hand grabbed his phone, glancing at the lit-up screen. Wei Zhi asked, puzzled, “Why is Shan Shan telling you that your family is eating dumplings made by the auntie this morning?”
She felt the force pulling at her blanket suddenly disappear.
She made an effort to turn her head and look at the man.
In the silence, their eyes met for three seconds.
She hesitated, then quietly released the blanket wrapped around her. She moved her head closer to him, staring at his slightly reddened eyes for a moment, then gasped.
Swallowing hard, she cautiously asked, “What’s wrong?”
The man said nothing, just took the phone from her hand without even looking at it and tossed it aside.
Wei Zhi was frightened.
“Hey, what’s going on? You’ve been crying at the drop of a hat lately—I didn’t do anything, did I? … Alright, alright, I don’t want it anymore, okay? You’re making me feel like some female hooligan forcing you into prostitution.”
Her rambling was swallowed up in his kiss.
As the sun began to rise, the snow outside stopped without them noticing. Today at Changbai Mountain would likely be another good day for skiing.