After adding Wei Zhi on WeChat, she went to dinner with Lu Xin. Since they were both alone, it made more sense to eat together; at least they had someone to chat with.
Lu Xin was an easygoing person. Unlike Shan Chong and his friends, who had a strong sense of group identity, creating an impenetrable wall around them, it was difficult for outsiders to break in—like Hu Hu and Xiao Xiong, who seemed to view the flower banquet as an opportunity to connect. However, after a few mishaps at the banquet that caused Shan Chong to lose face, he became less inclined to engage with them, even if he didn’t say anything.
It was tough to break into a circle filled with big shots. Wei Zhi knew that if it weren’t for a twist of fate when she randomly drew a limited edition blind box at the ski school gate in Chongli, the people who now made up her main social circle in the snow world probably wouldn’t even glance her way on the slopes.
Of course, that didn’t mean they weren’t good enough. Setting luck aside, encountering someone with a natural presence on the street wasn’t easy.
Lu Xin told Wei Zhi that this was his second snow season. Last season, he had just started snowboarding, but this year he decided to focus on freestyle and bought a specialized board. He came to Xinjiang at the beginning of the season to practice on his own. He felt that to fit in with the talented people around him, he had to be good himself.
Wei Zhi empathized with him; after all, she shared the same confusion. Standing among a group of tall individuals, even the most laid-back person would feel the urge to stretch their neck and try harder. That was why she woke up early every day, either working on updates or rolling around on the slopes.
“I think carving is great,” Wei Zhi hesitated, “but my coach is a park rider, so I might end up learning park skills too.”
“Carving is a fundamental skill. Whether it’s freestyle or park, everything builds on carving in the end. Girls tend to do more freestyle; don’t you think it looks better?” Lu Xin replied.
“Freestyle, huh.” Wei Zhi elongated her tone, thinking of Dai Duo and Lao Yan.
It wasn’t that she was disregarding her coach. Although she had seen Shan Chong do freestyle a few times, it was rare. Usually, when she was trying to keep up, he would stand behind her with his hands behind his back, looking stern like a principal, critiquing her. When he critiqued, he was often just pushing off the slope or something similar.
It was clear that Shan Chong wasn’t particularly interested in freestyle. She had never seen him use a freestyle board in class; occasionally, he would use his stiff Mach board for freestyle, which, in Lao Yan’s words, looked like swinging a sledgehammer, causing the snow to crack beneath him.
But Dai Duo and Lao Yan were different. She had seen Dai Duo come down from the advanced slope at high speed, leaving a trail of admirers in his wake. And Lao Yan’s videos on short video platforms, where he bounced and spun on the slopes, had garnered tens of thousands of likes. Some comments even claimed that Lao Yan was among the top three freestyle riders in the country. He was still young, and if he kept at it, he might become the next Hirano and Daisuke (a renowned Japanese snowboarder known as the “God of Freestyle”).
Wei Zhi sighed, “Freestyle does look amazing, especially at high speeds. Those carving tricks are cool.”
As long as she kept her distance and covered her ears to block out their chatter, it truly was impressive, she silently added.
Lu Xin remarked, “You even know about carving tricks.”
“Of course I do,” Wei Zhi replied.
Lu Xin had no idea what kind of atmosphere this young girl was living in. Although she seemed clueless on the slopes, struggling to switch edges, when it came to park and freestyle, her mental references were either the former top park rider in the country or the current park king. The last one, who made her wrinkle her nose at the thought, was a domestic snowboarding benchmark with over a hundred thousand followers on short video platforms.
Wei Zhi continued, “But I can’t think about freestyle. My coach is a bit petty, and I’m afraid he’ll get mad at me since he won’t even teach me the penguin walk.”
Lu Xin asked, “So it sounds like your coach is focused on the park for a hundred years. Where did you find someone like that to teach you the basics? There are so many park skills; does your coach do small jumps too?”
“He knows a bit of everything,” Wei Zhi thought for a moment, her vanity kicking in, “and he can do big jumps too.”
Lu Xin exclaimed, “Wow! Your coach must be pretty impressive!”
Hearing such straightforward and sincere praise made Wei Zhi smile brightly. No matter what, it felt great to hear someone she liked being complimented by a stranger; it indirectly validated her good taste.
“He not only jumps well but is also incredibly handsome,” she said, resting her chin on one hand. “Because he’s good-looking and skilled, many people want to take his classes. He’s usually busy, so he can only spare some time to teach me.”
As she spoke, there was no hint of complaint, only a smile. Her cat-like, almond-shaped black eyes curved into crescent moons.
With her fleshy palm resting on her delicate chin, she pressed her face into a soft, fair mound. After removing her helmet, her fluffy, long curls cascaded down her shoulders.
Sunlight streamed through the glass window behind her, enveloping her in a halo. As she tilted her head, one side of her face was hidden in shadow while the other was illuminated, the fine hairs catching the soft light.
This scene stirred something in Lu Xin, who had been politely listening to her. Initially, he hadn’t thought much of this new snowboarding friend; she seemed decent-looking but not particularly remarkable. However, in the warm, sunlit restaurant, this moment made her appear adorably warm and fluffy.
His eyes brightened slightly, and he unconsciously sat up straighter.
“You don’t need to worry too much about your coach not being around. After you learn to carve and switch edges, you’ll spend a long time mastering those skills as a foundation for future progress. Unless you’re a genius, most people get stuck at this stage for about ten days,” he said with a smile, maintaining polite boundaries. “As the saying goes, ‘A teacher opens the door, but the practice is up to the individual.’ You don’t need someone watching you all the time at this stage.”
“But if no one is watching… like today, if you hadn’t told me about the sight issue, I might have kept sliding with my shoulders twisted,” Wei Zhi replied.
“That’s simple. After you practice each day, find someone to record a video of you, then show it to your coach. He can point out your mistakes for you to correct the next day,” Lu Xin suggested.
“Where am I supposed to find someone to record me?” she asked.
“You can ask me,” Lu Xin said without hesitation. “Even if we can’t meet randomly on the slopes, we can find time to record a video before you finish practicing each day.”
“Are you on the intermediate slope?” she inquired.
“Yeah, except for the first run when I might need to warm up on the advanced slope, I’m on the intermediate slope,” he replied.
“I’ll be there when my coach is busy,” Wei Zhi said obediently. “He says that if you can smoothly switch between big and small turns on the intermediate slope without falling, then you can go to the advanced slope.”
“He’s right. Just like me, you’ve seen how I am on the intermediate slope. I can’t practice drivespin on the advanced slope!”
At this, they exchanged glances, both recalling how everyone had been tumbling and rolling on the intermediate slope that day, and they laughed together.
Wei Zhi thought this was indeed a feasible plan and felt she had truly met a kind-hearted and earnest person.
—
The two novice snowboarders found common ground and chatted happily at the table. They were unaware that in a distant corner, the very individuals they had been discussing were present.
At a table with five or six people, Shan Chong sat in the middle, with Bei Ci on his left and Lao Yan on his right. At that moment, he was awkwardly pushing food around his plate with a fork, his mind elsewhere.
The food hadn’t been touched much. It might have looked appetizing when it was first served, but after sitting for a while, the oil had begun to congeal, making it unappetizing.
Wearing a hoodie, he had rolled up the sleeves to his elbows due to the restaurant’s warmth, his gaze lowered. His long, thick eyelashes cast a small shadow over his eyes, obscuring his emotions.
The restaurant was busy, but the laughter of his little apprentice reached his ears. He didn’t know what they were talking about, only that she was laughing happily with a newly met male friend. To Shan Chong, it felt like a direct hit, akin to “whispering but laughing loudly.”
It stirred an inexplicable impatience within him.
So, when Wei Zhi laughed again at something the person across from her said, he put down his fork and kicked Bei Ci, who had been craning his neck to look forward, for the fourth time under the table. “If you’re worried, just stand up now and bring her back.”
“Is that appropriate?” Bei Ci hesitated, feeling tempted. “The kid is just having dinner!”
“Just pick up the plate and sit over here. What’s the difference where you eat?”
They had come to find Wei Zhi for dinner, resembling a father picking up his daughter from kindergarten. However, before they could call her, they witnessed the scene: the daughter holding hands with a little friend, saying, “Dad, I want to play with my new friend.”
Bei Ci hesitated.
“But…”
“But what?”
“From another perspective, considering that with her beginner level, it would take her at least a year and a half to catch up to us in the park, assuming she continues to work hard in the summer… we can’t always take her along. I think it’s good for her to make friends on the slopes,” Bei Ci said, sounding like a worried mother. “Making friends and growing together with peers is part of the charm of snowboarding. How can we disrupt her normal social life?”
“Are you promoting ice and snow sports or something?” Shan Chong retorted. “Making friends doesn’t mean befriending people from Wantong Hall. What good people could they possibly have?”
“…”
His voice was cold and devoid of emotion.
To be honest, Bei Ci was a bit shocked.
First of all, although the CK Club and Wantong Hall had always been at odds—one looking down on the other, the other mocking the first for being pretentious—everyone maintained a semblance of politeness regarding the higher-ups and leaders of both clubs.
As a high-ranking member and mascot of the club, Shan Chong had never publicly expressed dissatisfaction with Wantong Hall in any setting.
Secondly, while he could be sharp-tongued and even a bit harsh at times, he rarely made sweeping generalizations or spoke with strong personal bias—like saying there wasn’t a good person in Wantong Hall.
So hearing him say that now caused not just Bei Ci but also Lao Yan and the other three or five people at the table to stop eating and look over in silence.
Only Shan Chong remained serious, sitting upright with a decisive demeanor, showing no sign of thinking he had said anything wrong.
“What are you looking at?” Shan Chong asked.
“Brother Chong,” Lao Yan said.
“That’s quite biased of you,” Bei Ci added.
Lao Yan and Bei Ci exchanged glances, but neither dared to voice the thought that “we suspect you’re not just targeting Wantong Hall; if you keep going, you might as well include Qiantong Hall, Baitong Hall, and Rainbow Hall… you probably wouldn’t mind using the same rhetoric.”
They didn’t dare to say a word, but the atmosphere was thick with tension.
It wasn’t that they thought Brother Chong was jealous of that kid from Wantong Hall; he wouldn’t stoop to such pettiness. It was more akin to how every father in the world feels when his daughter, who has finally grown up, suddenly wants to walk home with a young boy, leaving him behind.
It was an unpleasant feeling, no matter how you looked at it.
In the silence, Shan Chong leisurely took a sip of the milk in front of him, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Have you seen enough?”
Bei Ci replied, “If you’re not feeling guilty, why should we be afraid to look?”
Lao Yan shot him a glance of admiration—there was no way, as long as Shan Chong’s right hand was bandaged, he would still be in a phase of restraint, not daring to speak out of turn.
Bei Ci glared at Shan Chong with intensity. The latter, however, showed no signs of guilt. “Last time, Wei Zhi ended up in a wheelchair after hanging out with people from Wantong Hall. My apprentice’s fall became a well-known story in Chongli…” He paused, raised his eyes, and slowly added, “So what if I have psychological scars?”
Everyone at the table fell silent, almost convinced by his brazen attitude. Shan Chong continued, “It’s better to be cautious than to regret later.”
The silence persisted, and this time, they were genuinely persuaded. A person wearing a beanie and Bluetooth headphones stood up, saying he would go fetch the little apprentice. This errand didn’t require Lao Yan or Bei Ci’s involvement.
Just as he was about to head over, the two kids who had been chatting finished their conversation and stood up to leave. The kid in the purple Wantong Hall hoodie said something, and Wei Zhi waved goodbye with a smile before they parted ways.
The beanie-wearing guy turned back, looking at Shan Chong in confusion, wondering what to do now. The man didn’t react much; he didn’t send him to bring her back but nodded toward the spot where he had been sitting, indicating he should sit down and let her go.
As the beanie-wearing guy sat down, the atmosphere at the table returned to normal. Bei Ci sighed in relief for the little apprentice who had almost faced a “great disaster,” ate a few more bites to calm his nerves, and then turned to Lao Yan to discuss the upcoming FIS World Cup big air event in Altay next month.
This event was crucial for Olympic qualification points for next year, and many big names were expected to arrive from around the world. Dai Duo’s appearance in Xinjiang was likely related to this.
With that, the topic of Wantong Hall was brushed aside, and no one mentioned it again. Shan Chong felt a slight sting and itch in his palm from an old injury. He wasn’t very hungry and listened half-heartedly as they talked about recent visits from foreign park riders to Aiwen.
Most of the names mentioned were contemporaries or juniors of his. After a while, he found the conversation uninteresting, especially as Bei Ci and someone else argued about whether Dai Duo could make it into the top three in the upcoming World Cup.
“This time, Irving McKenzie, Da He Pingye, and Stephen Churchill will all be there. Dai Duo is nothing; if he gets fourth, that’s impressive!”
“Da He Pingye fell while playing in the U-shaped groove last week; he might not do well this time.”
“Even if he doesn’t, he’s still better than Dai Duo. Look at him; he’s been flirting on the advanced slope every day,” Bei Ci said. “What’s he even doing?”
Shan Chong completely lost interest in the conversation. As the apprentices continued to argue about Dai Duo, he picked up his phone, unlocked it, and opened WeChat. Typing with his left hand was a bit inconvenient, but he stared at the screen and slowly typed:
【Chong: Where are you?】
The reply came quickly, likely from someone walking while using their phone.
【Girl Ji: On my way back to the hotel.】
【Chong: Hmm, resting this afternoon?】
【Girl Ji: I have work!】
Work? Shan Chong thought for a moment and remembered—oh, that unprofitable job Bei Ci mentioned.
【Chong: What’s the plan for tomorrow? Are you coming to the advanced slope with me?】
This time, there was no immediate reply. The “typing” indicator showed for a long time, and the man grew a bit impatient, frowning slightly, wondering what she was editing for so long…
Finally, her new message popped up.
【Girl Ji: No need, I fell all over the place on the intermediate slope today. I finally figured out the problem; let’s fix it tomorrow?】
【Girl Ji: The doctor said you need to rest for a few more days, not just one day. It’s not that quick to recover.】
【Chong: So you’re going to the intermediate slope by yourself again tomorrow?】
In the past, she had been full of longing for the advanced slope, sneaking up there when she thought no one was watching. But now that she was in Xinjiang, she had become more obedient. It seemed that the wheelchair incident hadn’t been in vain…
It would be better if she could realize that she needed to stay away from the people from Wantong Hall.
As Shan Chong pondered this, he saw her message pop up on his phone, making his eyelids twitch:
【Girl Ji: Yeah, I met a new friend on the intermediate slope today who isn’t that great at snowboarding. We agreed to keep working hard together tomorrow! (??v??)】
Shan Chong: “…”
She even sent a cute emoji.
Working hard, my foot.
The man slammed his phone down on the table with a loud “bang,” startling the group who had been arguing about whether Dai Duo could qualify for the Olympics.
Bei Ci turned to Lao Yan, “See? Brother Chong thinks Dai Duo has already scored over six hundred points. Getting qualified is just a matter of time. You, a freestyle rider, should stop being sour. You might as well switch to skateboarding and ride the coattails of the Summer Olympics—right, Chong Ge?”
The man, called by name, turned his face, eyebrows furrowed, expressionless. “Dai Duo? He can do whatever he wants.”
His voice was low, and he didn’t seem to be in a good mood.
After eating, Bei Ci and the others casually found a lounge chair in front of a storage locker to lie down. Shan Chong, not planning to snowboard in the afternoon, stood up to take a walk outside before heading back to the hotel to watch a movie and pass the time.
On the way back, he caught sight of a familiar figure through the window of a ski shop.
Shan Chong paused, expressionless, and took a few steps back. He opened the door to the shop, and a pleasant jingle rang as he stepped inside.
“A size S should be enough for a girl like you… Oh, no, that one has hard plates; it’s park protection gear. While it offers better protection, it hurts when you fall. You won’t need that,” the shopkeeper’s voice reached his ears.
The man lowered his gaze and brushed the snow off his shoulder, his dark pupils flickering. He called out to the girl squatting on the ground, rummaging through something: “Wei Zhi.”
In the entire Silk Road ski resort, there was only one person who would call her by her full name.
Startled by the cold voice, Wei Zhi shivered, like a groundhog caught sneaking a snack, and quickly turned around, realizing she was in the shadow of the person standing behind her.
He wore jeans, a hoodie, and a pair of familiar, ordinary-colored Air Jordans, now looking down at her from above.
Wei Zhi: “…”
Wei Zhi, confused, asked, “Master?”
“Hmm,” Shan Chong replied, looking down lazily. “What are you doing here?”
“Buying protective gear,” Wei Zhi said, holding up the mesh bag in her hand. “I fell hard on the intermediate slope this morning. A new friend I met said I need to buy inner protective gear during the edge-switching phase; the little turtle isn’t enough anymore.”
“…”
Shan Chong fell silent.
Wei Zhi blinked, sensing something was off in the air.
The man pressed his lips together, his gaze scrutinizing the wary little face before him—yes, she should be cautious—after all, she might have forgotten what she said when the shopkeeper recommended inner protective gear at that large ski shop in Chongli when she bought her snow boots…
She had said she didn’t need inner gear because she had the little turtle given by her master. If she switched it out, her master would be unhappy.
She had sounded so convincing back then.
And now?
Well.
Now she had grown up.
The little turtle was no longer useful; it didn’t matter who had given it to her. When it was time to switch, it was time to switch, right?
The man slowly narrowed his eyes, not feeling that his thoughts were wandering. To him, her words sounded like “I have a new friend, and I want to listen to my new friend’s advice; the little turtle is no longer useful” with no difference.
“Fine,” he said, not getting angry, and smiled. “Is that the person you mentioned in WeChat who you met on the intermediate slope?”
Wei Zhi stared at the man’s upturned lips, her pupils constricting. It felt like watching a horror movie, and after a moment of caution, she nodded slowly. “What’s wrong? Is what he said wrong? Did I get tricked again?”
“No,” Shan Chong replied calmly. “It’s easy to fall during the edge-switching phase and hit your hip bone. It’s time to switch to inner protective gear; I just didn’t consider it.”
Wei Zhi had never heard Shan Chong admit he was wrong before—he even looked confused when he fell while pushing off.
She was genuinely surprised now, unsure if he was being sarcastic. She dropped the protective gear she was selecting and reached out to check his forehead, wondering if he was feeling unwell, but he turned his head away to avoid her.
Wei Zhi’s pale hand grasped at the air helplessly.
At that moment, the man turned back to her. “Are you still going to snowboard with that person tomorrow?”
Wei Zhi gasped.
She saw the man smile without much amusement. “That plan is off.”
Before she could process what had happened, she saw him pick up his phone and casually press a few buttons. Suddenly, her phone began vibrating wildly, ringing with WeChat voice notifications—
When she picked up her phone, she saw that Shan Chong had added her to a WeChat group chat named “Dog-Loving Apprentices.”
…This was the legendary apprentice group of Shan Chong.
At first, she had been upset about not being added. Later, when he said she could join after learning to switch edges, she had almost forgotten about it. Now that she could switch, he had taken action.
In the group, Bei Ci, Lao Yan, Hua Yan, Yan Yan, and others were chatting endlessly about some large international event happening at the General Mountain ski resort in Altay, where Dai Duo would be participating.
As she was reading, a few new messages suddenly popped up:
【CK, Chong: Team building tomorrow, practice basic sliding. Everyone get ready.】
【CK, Chong: Starts at 8 AM until 1 PM, 30 km. Check-in at the top of the Silk Road ski resort. If you don’t come here, you’ll still need to check in at the Chongli, Changbai Mountain, and Jilin groups. The photo hand signs will be announced at 7 AM tomorrow.】
【CK, Chong: After 1 PM, slide the kilometers (a skiing app that records time and distance). Screenshot and check-in.】
【CK, Chong: @All members】
30 km, considering the average slope at Silk Road is about 2.7 km, which means ten trips in the morning.
The Chongli mountain top ski slope has a 4-5 km run, and Wei Zhi usually takes thirty to forty minutes for one trip. Based on her training volume, she typically only manages two or three runs in the morning.
This was quite a shock for the girl.
Unable to hold back, she reflexively typed in the group in front of the man:
【Girl Ji: Are you crazy?】
Before anyone could respond, the chat stopped for a few seconds, and then the group’s rhythm changed to:
【Hua Yan: Received.】
【Is It Heartfelt: Received.】
【Marrakech Horizon: Received.】
【Lao Yan: Received.】
【He’s Driving the Neighbor’s Toyota: Received.】
【CK, Bei Ci: Received.】
【Is It Heartfelt: Received.】
【Yan Yan: Received.】
…
Wei Zhi: “…”
Ah.
What the hell?
This.
【Girl Ji: …】
【Girl Ji: Received.】
Holding her phone, Wei Zhi felt it was burning in her hand. She looked up at the calm man in front of her, hesitated for a long time, and finally asked softly, “Why did I insist on rolling on the ground and crying to join your apprentice group back then?”
“Fate,” the man replied expressionlessly. “Just like when I chose you between you and Jiang Nanfeng after much deliberation. Do I regret it?”
Wei Zhi stared at him.
Shan Chong looked down at the girl’s face, which was filled with stubbornness and rebellion. After a pause, he said half-jokingly, “I have to admit, I do feel a bit of regret.”
Wei Zhi: “…”
Wei Zhi: “? I’m going to make a scene.”