Wei Zhi hadn’t even processed what had just happened.
She blinked, realizing the snow goggles now on her face were frameless, offering a much wider field of vision than the cheap roadside ones she had bought before. The lens color was also quite attractive.
She took off the goggles and examined them in her hands, her mind still blank. Suddenly, a hand reached out and tapped the edge of the goggles.
“Burton M4 lenses, magnetic attachment. Replaceable. This model comes in other colors too. You can use different lens tints for different conditions and buy them separately,” the man’s voice came from above. “If they fog up later, you can just remove the lens to wipe it instead of taking off the whole thing. Much less hassle.”
For the past few days, her main entertainment on the cable car had been wiping the fog from her cheap goggles. She’d have to take them on and off thrice each ride.
“…” Wei Zhi held up the goggles, looking at them repeatedly, blinking in disbelief. “For me?”
By now, the man had withdrawn his hand and was walking towards the ski equipment hall, carrying his board.
Only his faint “Mm” drifted slowly into Wei Zhi’s ears on the cold wind.
Wei Zhi stood rooted to the spot for three seconds, then hooked the new goggles onto her elbow and hurriedly followed him into the equipment hall, hugging her board.
At this moment, the equipment hall at the top of the mountain was almost deserted.
Most of the lights were off, the bustling crowds of daytime gone. In the darkness, lockers stood silently in the shadows, with only a few lights illuminating the main walkway. The remaining light came from the reflection of the snow outside…
Occasional whispers of late returnees could be heard from some corners.
Wei Zhi hugged her board and looked around, finding the direction of her locker. As she moved towards it, she heard footsteps behind her.
Looking back, she saw Shan Chong following her.
Wei Zhi: “?”
Usually after class, they would part ways outside the equipment hall. She would go to her locker while Shan Chong would drag his board to take the cable car again to find Beici and the others.
Today he had followed her. It was very unusual.
“Go on,” as if knowing her confusion, the man casually explained in a flat voice, “It’s dark outside. I’ll walk you to the hotel entrance later.”
“Oh.”
— After their brief argument, Teacher Nian’s big brother decided to be a decent person.
This was Wei Zhi’s mental translation of Shan Chong’s words.
They first went to the counter to return their boards, then walked to the lockers. As usual, Wei Zhi’s priority was loosening her ski boots and wiggling her toes before changing into her shoes…
Then she took off her helmet and set it aside.
Next, she removed her faceguard and stuffed it into the helmet. As she took the new goggles off her elbow, she lovingly stroked them. Suddenly remembering something, she looked up at Shan Chong and said softly, “Thank you.”
“Mm.”
“If you want them back, you can have them anytime.”
Before the man could respond to such a humble statement, she quickly added:
“Although I’ll cry when I give them back to you.”
“…”
Having finished her moral blackmail, Wei Zhi reluctantly placed the new goggles into the helmet, which was already padded with the face guard, lens side up to avoid scratches.
The man stood nearby, casually leaning against the lockers with his arms folded, watching her series of actions without rushing, as if he had all the patience in the world.
He silently observed as Wei Zhi slowly removed her green turtle butt pad, turned it over, felt it, and picked at the frozen snow stuck to the little turtle’s tail…
Wei Zhi: “Huh.”
Shan Chong finally couldn’t resist: “Do you spend this long saying a solemn goodbye to your turtle every day?”
“…No,” Wei Zhi held up one of the turtle’s legs. “Look, it’s broken.”
“?”
Shan Chong bent down slightly to take a closer look. In the dim light, he indeed saw that the turtle’s butt had split open, right next to the tail, with a small tuft of cotton poking out…
These beginner butt pads were modified stuffed animals, so the quality wasn’t very good to begin with.
…But seeing one worn to the point of bursting open was indeed a first for him.
Taking the turtle, the man’s slender fingertips pushed the cotton back in a bit, only for it to stubbornly “puff” out again.
“…” He clicked his tongue, “Its innards are coming out. You did sit this turtle to death.”
Wei Zhi’s face reddened slightly as she tried to snatch the little turtle back, but the man quickly raised his hand, causing her fingertips to just brush past the turtle’s tail…
The scene mirrored the moment years ago when he had first handed it to her.
Wei Zhi grew anxious and spread her arms: “Give it back.”
Shan Chong: “What’s the rush? I’ll take it back and fix it.”
Wei Zhi: “How will you fix it?”
Shan Chong: “Don’t worry about it.”
Wei Zhi: “I’ll die without it.”
Shan Chong: “I know.”
…
Leaving the equipment hall, Wei Zhi and Shan Chong silently moved towards the hotel, maintaining a not-so-intimate distance of one meter apart, one in front and one behind.
During the walk, Wei Zhi turned back eight times to look at the turtle corpse dangling from the man’s hand, wanting to say something but hesitating.
Unfortunately, he completely ignored the atmosphere of her wanting to speak, all the way until they reached the hotel entrance. He jerked his chin and said, “Go in.”
He hadn’t even removed his face guard, just his helmet which he held in his hand, with his board tucked under his arm as he stood under the light.
Wei Zhi blinked, waved at him, and pushed open the hotel door. After a moment’s thought, she looked back at him once more, hesitated, then waved again before bending down to slip through the gap of the open door.
When she reached the hotel lobby and looked back, the man who had been standing outside the door was gone.
She felt a bit disappointed, yet also conflictingly relieved. She rubbed her cold-stiffened hands and pressed the elevator button to return to her room.
The elevator descended from the high floors, taking quite a while. Wei Zhi stared blankly at a mottled spot in the corner of the wall, then thought of her new goggles again.
Her mood was a bit elated at receiving a gift from someone! But also a little uneasy. After much deliberation, she took out her phone, opened Taobao, and searched for “Burton M4” using the keywords. The first result which looked like snow goggles showed a price of 1,098 yuan, with free shipping.
…Oh, just over a thousand yuan, not too bad.
Wei Zhi clutched her phone, just about to breathe a sigh of relief when she suddenly noticed something off about the keywords in her peripheral vision. She squinted and held the phone closer to the screen for a better look—
[Burton Men’s Autumn/Winter Anon M4 Ski Goggles Anti-fog Protective Lens.]
…Lens.
Lens?
One lens…
1,098?
Huh?
Then how much is the frame?
Is it free?
………………………
Wei Zhi (horrified): “Eeeeeeeeeeeek?!!!!!!!!!”
…
Meanwhile.
After personally seeing his little disciple walk back to the ski resort hotel, looking back every few steps, Shan Chong returned to the relatively run-down apartment building next to the ski resort.
Unlike tourists, most of the skiers who stay in Chongli ski resort for the season live in this apartment building. It’s close to the ski resort and quite cheap if rented by the month—during peak season, it only costs about 3,000 yuan a month, and can even be shared.
Carrying his snowboard, he took the old, worn elevator plastered with small advertisements slowly up to the third floor, then walked to a room at the far corner. The man finally came to a stop.
He took out his key and opened the door. As soon as the door opened, a wave of warm air mixed with the aroma of food washed over him, along with the yellow glow of light spilling out and the noisy sound of a TV.
Though simple, the apartment was decorated quite cozily in a Japanese-style natural wood theme. In the center of the living room was a sofa and coffee table. Scattered on the carpet were Beici, who shared the apartment with Shan Chong… as well as several uninvited guests.
Peanuts and junk food were opened and placed on the table, two or three bottles of beer casually set within easy reach. Several men lounged lazily on the sofa or carpet, gathered around watching a horror movie.
A few crumbs of potato chips were scattered on the carpet. Shan Chong’s eyes swept over them, but he didn’t even furrow his brow.
He pretended not to see.
“Master Dad, you’re back,” Beici called out lazily from the sofa, without even lifting his head.
After a moment of no response, there was a “poof” sound as a damp, cold plush toy hit him in the face.
Beici, who still had popcorn in his mouth, was caught off guard and nearly bit his tongue. He sat up with a start, hurriedly pulling the plush toy off his face… Upon closer inspection, it was none other than the turtle butt pad he had reverently presented to his little junior sister a few days ago.
“It’s broken,” Shan Chong said. “Fix it.”
Beici shook the pad, turned it over, and saw the burst seam and cotton poking out near the butt. “Geez,” he asked Shan Chong, “Did you and the current owner of this turtle butt pad, Miss Junior Sister, get into a fight on the ski slope or something?”
Shan Chong: “?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen one of these things worn to the point of bursting!” To emphasize his shock, he even thumped the little turtle a couple of times. “Such a thick pad!”
“She falls a lot,” Shan Chong took off his jacket and tossed it casually onto the sofa. “And doesn’t let anyone mention it. Gets angry if you do.”
His tone carried a hint of helplessness.
As soon as he spoke, the group of idle onlookers who had been watching TV immediately turned their attention away from the screen, all looking over, clearly finding this drama more horrifying than the horror movie.
The bystanders chimed in one after another—
“Am I dreaming? What kind of tone is this from Brother Chong?”
“Damn, Chong God, if you could use such a gentle tone with me, my 1080 would’ve been nailed ages ago! Wah!”
“Wait, hold on, why do you all seem to understand… What’s the gossip? Who are we talking about? Who falls a lot?”
“…Who else could it be, do any of us look like we’d use a turtle butt pad—Remember that photo? The one of her putting on a board!”
…
Three seconds of collective silence.
The bystanders suddenly realized: “Oh!”
Beici glanced at the waist pack Shan Chong had just put down and added, “Dai Duo’s goggles were probably given to her too.”
The bystanders gleefully exclaimed: “Oho!”
Shan Chong sat down on the sofa, opened a can of beer, and took a sip, lowering his eyes to look at the TV, seemingly too lazy to offer any further explanation.
Beici stood up, first rummaging through a drawer to find the sewing kit that came with the apartment. He shook the sewing box, picked up the turtle, and looked at it, suddenly realizing the cruel reality.
“Wait a sec! How the hell am I, a grown-ass man, supposed to mend this?” Beici casually kicked one of the idle bystanders near his foot and asked, “Hey, what are you all gawking at? Does anyone here know how to sew?”
The group of onlookers snickered. A bunch of rough guys who only knew how to do ski jumps and rails, all sponsored athletes who just asked their sponsor daddies for new gear when their snow clothes got damaged…
They might not even know how to operate a washing machine, let alone sew a turtle!
Beici rolled his eyes, working up a sweat just trying to thread the needle. Having finally managed to connect the needle and thread, he reluctantly began to sew…
After a few stitches of haphazard mending, he successfully made himself cross-eyed.
“Forget it, Chong God!” Beici put down the turtle. “Don’t bother fixing it, just buy her a new one. Wouldn’t an inner pad be better? She’ll have to switch to an inner pad eventually anyway, it’s more durable.”
“…”
Shan Chong had been looking at his phone. A message had just popped up on WeChat from someone he hadn’t contacted in ages, asking “What did you take the goggles for, are you so poor you can’t even afford them?” He dismissed the message without hesitation.
Then he lazily raised his eyes, his tone equally slow.
“Buying a new one costs money, doesn’t it?”
He sat up a bit straighter and glanced at the turtle in Beici’s hands through the edge of his phone—sewn crookedly with stitches several millimeters apart—not to mention whether it was properly mended, it had nothing to do with “mending” at all.
His eyelid twitched slightly as he pulled the turtle onto his lap, commenting: “How are your hands as clumsy as your feet? What kind of mending is this?”
Beici bristled: “You should be grateful I even tried! I nearly went cross-eyed just threading the needle! You do it! You try!”
Shan Chong shook the turtle, handed his phone to Beici, grabbed the scissors, and proceeded to undo the messy stitches Beici had sewn. He then took the needle and thread from Beici’s hand—
He stuffed the cotton back in and began to sew more finely along the edge.
On one end of the sofa, Shan Chong was slowly and somewhat inexpertly mending the turtle.
On the other end, Beici shamelessly browsed through his phone, narrating: “Master Dad, Brother Chong, Chong God! There’s a defeated opponent named Dai Duo here who’s upset about having his goggles ‘stolen’!”
“What do you mean stolen? Mind your words,” Shan Chong said. “I won them fair and square.”
“Regardless of how you got them, he’s being all passive-aggressive here, saying you’re poor.”
“So what,” Shan Chong didn’t even bother to look up, focusing intently on sewing the hundred-yuan turtle. “It’s true that I’m poor. Is he offering to donate?”
“Sure thing!” Beici typed on Shan Chong’s phone, reading aloud as he wrote, “‘Yes, I’m poor. Are you donating? Alipay, WeChat, bank cards—all channels supported, take your pick. Thanks for your patronage.'”
“I have cards for all five major banks,” Shan Chong added. “If I don’t, I can go open one.”
Beici laughed so hard he nearly fell off the sofa.
As the master and disciple were having fun, there was a “click” at the door, and Lao Yan poked his head in.
Shan Chong hadn’t closed the door when he came back, so Lao Yan, who lived next door, had heard them talking and followed the sound to push the door open.
“What are you guys do—”
The big guy with an innocent baby face entered with a smile, but his voice cut off abruptly as he saw the scene in the room, his smile freezing on his face.
On the sofa, the man Lao Yan considered the coolest in the universe was expressionlessly biting off a thread, smoothing the green turtle butt pad on his knee, then picking it up to shake it out.
The motion was so fluid—
The last time Lao Yan had seen such a loving scene was in elementary school when his mom sat on the kang bed mending his socks (…).
Lao Yan expressionlessly backed out two steps, exited the door, and closed it.
Standing outside, he rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door again.
On the sofa, the coolest man in the universe held up a green turtle-shaped cushion, his face expressionless. He turned to the person next to him, named Backstab, and asked, “Hey, come take a look. Do you think this is right? Would it be sturdier if we stitched it along the seam again?”
Lao Yan was silent.
Lao Yan was even more silent.
Lao Yan was utterly silent.
The sky was falling.