Though this man appeared cold and heartless on the surface, as if he had mastered the “Sunflower Manual,” few knew that when he wanted to sweet-talk someone, even immortals would fall for his charm.
Noticing the young girl’s silence as she merely blinked and stared at him blankly, the man, still unsatisfied, glanced at her and urged, “Did you hear me?”
“…”
Of course, she heard him.
Was he blind? Even without looking, she knew that her nose, eyes, and ears were likely flushed an abnormal color. They felt like they were burning up. How could they not be the color of flames?
Did she look like someone who hadn’t heard?
While Weizhi was busy with her internal monologue, not responding aloud, the man questioned with another “Hmm?” As soon as his nasal tone fell, she took three quick steps backward. Pressing down on her face mask, she lowered her voice, full of wariness: “I heard you, I heard you. Happy now? Just speak normally!”
Amused by her hedgehog-like retreat to two meters away, he asked, “How am I not speaking normally?”
“If you don’t want me to hang out with Lu Xin, I won’t,” Weizhi, clearly flustered, was ready to agree to anything at this point. “There’s no need for all this fancy talk. What’s with the j-jealousy?”
“Oh,” Shan Chong didn’t resist at all, seizing the opportunity swiftly. “Then don’t hang out with him.”
Weizhi stared at him, speechless.
The man, who had appeared somewhat lazy until now, suddenly shed his nonchalant demeanor. Standing a bit straighter, he turned to the young girl beside him and said half-seriously: “Weizhi, I was the one who first handed you a snowboard. I’ve told you before that I’ve never really taught beginners… So, I don’t particularly like hearing things like ‘so-and-so said this move is better done like this’ from you. Your learning process and progress aren’t for just anyone to criticize—criticizing you is like criticizing me. Understand?”
His words were serious.
The implications were more significant than she had imagined. It felt as if shaking her head now would be ungrateful, disrespectful to her master, betraying her school, and disregarding her teacher’s dignity.
So, Weizhi responded in bewilderment: “I don’t think I’ve ever said anything like that.”
“You have.”
“Huh?”
“‘I fell so hard on the intermediate slope this morning. My new friend said that at this stage of edge transitions, I should buy inner protective gear. The little turtle shell isn’t enough anymore.'”
He recited the words that had been bothering him verbatim, his face expressionless.
“…?” Weizhi was shocked. “That counts? It’s just protective gear. Is this what you call jealousy? Your jealousy threshold is way too low!”
“Mm,” he acknowledged, then realized, “What do you mean ‘just this’? Wasn’t that green turtle shell from me? You’re tossing it aside so easily? Have you considered how hard I worked to repair that turtle for you?”
“Wasn’t the turtle shell repaired with a backstab?”
“I lied,” he said, expressionless. “I repaired it.”
Weizhi’s lips moved helplessly a few times before she finally managed to say, “Have you been drinking?”
Otherwise, how could he be spouting all these words? His entire character seemed to have gone off-script, flying out of the Milky Way!
Shan Chong gave her a cold glance but said nothing.
Weizhi wasn’t intimidated by his icy look.
Instead, she moved back to his side, quickening her pace to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with him. She said, “In any case, you don’t need to worry so much. Lu Xin acts like he’s seen a ghost when he sees me now… We ran into each other at the entrance of the ski equipment hall earlier. When I invited him to have lunch together, he responded that he needed to go back and carefully reconsider our relationship.”
Shan Chong laughed.
It was a genuine laugh, not a sarcastic one.
It was evident that his mood had improved upon hearing about Lu Xin’s retreat.
The man, completely in the upper hand in this matter, even had the mood to pity his opponent. He raised his hand to pat the girl’s fluffy head, saying with feigned sincerity: “It’s Master’s fault for scaring him.”
Before Weizhi could respond, she heard him continue slowly: “I’ll go talk to their supervisor this afternoon. Tell them not to act like they’ve seen a ghost when they see you. How impolite.”
She turned her head to look at him, her head still under his large hand. The smell of medicine from the bandage mingled with his gentle strokes, and the “rustle” of the bandage against her scalp filled her ears. “What do you mean? You’re not against me hanging out with Lu Xin anymore?”
“Mm.”
“Why?”
The man smiled faintly.
“It’s nothing. Just consider it as you have convinced me.”
Indeed, it was nothing.
He just suddenly realized that there was no need to use a butcher’s knife to kill a pig.
…
After lunch, when the little girl picked up the afternoon tea menu, Shan Chong left her at the café and headed to the lounge.
At this hour, there weren’t many people in the lounge, just a middle-aged man smoking—
This man was one of the senior executives of Wantong Hall, surnamed Lu. People called him Old Lu. In his thirties, he was considered a veteran in the snow sports circle.
He was a good person, never having had a falling out with anyone in all these years.
Old Lu was mainly responsible for Wantong Hall’s sponsorships and club activities in Xinjiang, frequently staying at the Silk Road Ski Resort and Jiangjun Mountain Ski Resort. He was quite familiar with the area.
Yesterday, he posted Shan Chong’s video in Wantong Hall’s large group chat. At the time, he casually tagged his disciple K while smoking, asking, “This girl looks familiar. Isn’t she Shan Chong’s precious disciple who got you in trouble with him last time?”
After K confirmed, the Wantong Hall group chat exploded with various comments.
Aside from the sour or ill-intentioned remarks, the consensus was, “Shan Chong, in his middle age, has finally got a ‘child.’ He treasures her greatly, so we should all keep our distance.”
At the time, someone in the group asked, “Is she Shan Chong’s disciple?” The person who raised this question was a newcomer to the club, and no one paid much attention to him…
This ordinary question was quickly buried in the flood of messages.
Old Lu didn’t have a strong memory of this person either, having only met him a few times and barely remembering him. As a board member, he felt obligated to not leave the newcomer hanging, so he graciously replied: “Yeah, that’s her. Keep your distance on the slopes. Look at how K now scurries away like a mouse when he sees CK club members. If anything else happens, no one will be able to cover for you.”
The person who asked was Lu Xin. Afterward, he privately messaged Old Lu, saying he indeed knew Shan Chong’s little disciple.
What could Old Lu say? Just four words: Stay away from her.
Her master had personally intervened to break up the lovebirds, so why not run?
Now.
While pondering this, Old Lu was sitting in the lounge, holding a coffee cup and smoking. The smoke swirled around him as the door was pushed open from the outside, and a black figure walked in, sitting down next to him.
The milky white smoke blurred his vision. Old Lu squinted slightly, casually glancing at the person beside him before turning his head away… But as he replayed the glimpse of the other’s cold and noble jawline through the hazy smoke in his mind, he paused, widened his eyes slightly, and slowly turned his head back.
—What wind blew this immortal here?
He didn’t speak.
But the man sitting next to him spoke first: “You posted my video in your group chat last night?”
Hearing his cool voice, Old Lu responded a bit warily, “I did.”
What’s wrong with that? It’s not illegal, is it? You posted it on a public platform with sharing and downloading enabled, isn’t that meant for people to share?
Shan Chong paused, changed his sitting posture, and said lazily, “You told your Wantong Hall people in Xinjiang to stay away from my disciple?”
Hearing this, Old Lu laughed: “Isn’t that what you meant by posting your location? Afraid we wouldn’t get the message? When have you ever included a location in your videos before?”
After he said this, Shan Chong fell silent.
Originally, that was indeed his intention.
—The principle was simple. Weizhi, in her naivety, insisted on playing with that purple hoodie guy. Since he couldn’t persuade her, he had no choice but to make the guy back off on his own.
The method was effective, and the desired result was achieved. But seeing his little disciple’s pitiful, abandoned look at lunchtime today…
He began to feel a bit guilty.
He started to reflect on whether he had gone too far.
In the end, he didn’t reflect much, realizing it wasn’t worth the effort. He had been too nervous, and it seemed a bit unnecessary.
So, defenses are down.
“K deserved it. Why shouldn’t I scold him?” Shan Chong said after some thought. “Normal socializing is fine. My little disciple is a newbie, she should make some new friends. That’s normal.”
This sounded more like he was talking to himself.
Old Lu exclaimed, “Oh?” This was fresh. He thought to himself, this guy who’s rarely seen, whose mere glance on the slopes is considered a blessing, has now come all the way here to arrange social interactions for his little disciple.
He looked Shan Chong up and down: “…Well, we have someone who met your little disciple on the slopes. You’re letting them hang out?”
Shan Chong pressed his tongue against his cheek, pondering for a moment—
He didn’t want to agree.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, he hesitated for three seconds before saying tactfully, “Just keep it moderate.”
Hearing this, Old Lu laughed: “Not bad, Chong-god. It’s the first time I’ve smelled this reluctant scent on you.”
The man clicked his tongue.
“Is she just your disciple?”
“Hm?”
The man lifted his eyelids lazily, appearing somewhat indifferent, “If not a disciple, what else could she be?”
“I’ve never seen you care so much about your backstabbers. Since when did taking a discipline involve worrying about their friendships? One moment you’re posting videos with kill orders, and when your little disciple isn’t happy, you come to lift the ban…” Old Lu said, “Are you bored or something?”
“A bit,” the man stretched out his legs, looking lazy as he lifted his eyelids indifferently, “Isn’t it nice to show you my videos? Isn’t my disciple cute when she catches her front edge?”
His tone was cool.
“…Chong-god,” Old Lu said sincerely, “If you’re that bored, go to Altay. If you go early, the Snow Federation might even squeeze out a spot for you.”
“Go there for what?”
“The Snow Federation’s World Cup, of course?” He paused, adding, “There’s a big jump.”
“To be a judge?”
Old Lu gave him a speechless look.
After a long while, Shan Chong snorted and said in an ambiguous tone, “That’s just a points race, it doesn’t pay. What’s the point of an old retired athlete like me going there?”
Hearing this, Old Lu looked like he wanted to say something but held back.
However, Shan Chong didn’t give him a chance to speak. He slowly stood up, smiling as he raised his hand and patted Old Lu’s shoulder heavily as a signal to end the conversation, then turned and left the smoke-filled lounge.
As he opened the door, through the white smoke that was thick enough to blur vision, Old Lu saw the smile that had been on the man’s lips just a second ago vanish without a trace.
…
After Shan Chong left, Weizhi sat alone in the café for a long time.
After finishing her meal, she seamlessly transitioned to her afternoon tea. As she was lowering her head, flipping through the menu, and debating between French caramel pudding and matcha cheesecake, she heard the chair opposite her being pulled out.
Thinking it was Shan Chong returning, she muttered without looking up: “You were in the bathroom for quite a while. So, should we have pudding or matcha—”
Her voice trailed off as she looked up.
Her deep brown eyes reflected a purple hoodie. The young girl’s happy expression froze for a few seconds, then turned into an odd look—usually, it was rare to see such an expression on her slightly chubby face, a mix of sarcasm and surprise.
“Hello,” Weizhi said to Lu Xin, who had occupied the seat across from her, “Do you need something?”
She hadn’t been so sharp before.
Maybe she was influenced by Shan Chong, or maybe she was genuinely disappointed in Lu Xin.
“…Xiaozhi.” Lu Xin sat up straighter, stung by her words. “I was wrong this morning.”
Weizhi didn’t know what to say, so she just “Oh” -ed… Mainly because she didn’t want to say “It’s okay.” She had been so pitiful this morning, like an abandoned cat, left alone at the entrance of the ski equipment hall to face the cold wind.
If it weren’t for her master passing by and picking her up, the animal protection organization might have come knocking by now.
With this, her master’s image in her heart became even brighter.
“The way I acted today was mainly because of that video I saw last night. Our entire WeChat group exploded, and our director kept reminding us to be mindful of our influence… I was afraid of teaching you something wrong and upsetting your master again, ending up like K did before—”
What “upsetting again”? That K was clearly in the wrong. It sounded like Shan Chong had a bad temper and would get upset for no reason…
…Well, although his temper wasn’t great.
But at least he wouldn’t get angry at strangers for no reason!
Weizhi frowned. Hearing his explanation not only didn’t make her feel better but made her even more unhappy. Putting down the menu in her hand, she said, “You make it sound like my master is the King of Hell or something to be feared.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What are you here for?” she changed the subject, not wanting to circle Shan Chong anymore. These Wantong Hall people never had a good word to say about him. “Have you reconsidered whether you want to be friends with me?”
“Yes.”
“…”
Weizhi was stunned, thinking to herself, “You dare to say yes.”
Just as she was incredibly curious about how this situation had suddenly turned around, she remembered that Shan Chong had gone out for a while earlier… He hadn’t returned yet, but her lost new friend had already arrived.
Hesitating, she remembered he said he would talk to the Wantong Hall people, so she asked out of pure curiosity: “So did your group post some announcement, like ‘the ban on Shan Chong’s disciple has been lifted’ or something—”
“No, why would they post such an announcement? I figured it out myself. Whether I’m friends with you has nothing to do with who your master is or which club I’m from…”
As Lu Xin spoke, he took out his phone and looked at it, then saw a new announcement in the Wantong Hall Xinjiang Group—
[Old Lu: Chong-god says let bygones be bygones. His little disciple (daughter) needs normal social interactions. You don’t need to avoid her like the plague on the slopes anymore. Be friendly, like helping her up if you see her fall.]
Lu Xin: “…”
He put down his phone.
Lu Xin: “There was indeed an announcement, but it was just now. I hadn’t seen it before.”
He emphasized that his appearance here was entirely of his own volition.
However, Weizhi didn’t care whether he had seen it or not. Now her mind was full of the realization that Shan Chong hadn’t gone to the bathroom earlier, but had made good on his word and gone to resolve her awkward situation—
These days, a man who apologizes without hesitation and then actively and immediately goes to solve the problem is probably harder to find than a three-legged toad.
Ah, Master is the best.
Lu Xin looked up to see the young girl sitting opposite him, one hand propping up her chin, her face full of joy. Her usually round almond eyes were sparkling like stars. He thought she had finally stopped dwelling on this matter.
He also breathed a sigh of relief, leaned forward a bit, and asked, “So, do you still want to—”
“Sure.”
Weizhi was never one to burn bridges with others. Since she had nothing to do in the afternoon anyway, she agreed. Then, without thinking, she added, “But I want to rest a bit more and have a snack. If you’re in a hurry, you can go first, and I’ll find you later.”
She was just that kind of person. At first, she might be full of enthusiasm, but once that enthusiasm was extinguished, forcibly reigniting it wouldn’t burn as brightly as before.
It would just sit there, burning halfheartedly.
As she finished speaking, she saw a happy expression appear on his face. The young girl gave him a slightly strange look, wondering what there was to be happy about.
She lowered her head and continued flipping through the menu.
People came in and out of the café, the wind chimes at the door tinkling.
“You don’t know, besides the people in our club, I don’t have many friends here. I used to ski alone, so meeting you and having someone to chat with on the magic carpet was quite nice…” Lu Xin said, “When I went out today, I kept thinking how it’s not easy to meet someone you get along with on the slopes. There aren’t many beginners in Xinjiang. You’re good-looking and have a nice personality—”
He was about to shower her with compliments.
Weizhi’s ears perked up when she heard “good-looking,” and she was about to raise her head from behind the menu to agree with an “Mm,” but when she looked up, she saw someone standing behind Lu Xin.
“Master.”
She put down the menu.
Lu Xin’s words came to an abrupt halt. He froze for a moment, then turned around to see a tall man standing behind him, expressionless, not looking at him.
After the young girl greeted him, he responded, then reached out to pull another chair and sat down.
Only then did he slowly glance at Lu Xin, smile, and say to Weizhi: “Your friend came to find you?”
The atmosphere in the air immediately changed. Somehow, it felt as if the man had brought the cold air from outside with him. The relaxation from earlier instantly vanished…
Even though he hadn’t done anything.
Weizhi was still unsure of the man’s attitude and cautiously nodded, saying, “We planned to ski together this afternoon.”
Shan Chong fell silent for a moment.
Weizhi became a bit nervous, thinking to herself that if he didn’t allow it, she wouldn’t go.
But before she could think it through, the man didn’t have much of a reaction. He just “Mm” -ed and raised his hand to slowly rub his brow, looking somewhat tired as he said, “Go ahead. If you have any problems, send me a WeChat message. I’ll reply when I see it.”
“You’re not teaching this afternoon?”
“Mm, I canceled it,” the man lowered his eyes and said flatly, “Master’s not in a great mood. Planning to rest this afternoon.”
Hearing this, Weizhi immediately turned and ordered two desserts from the waiter—a French pudding and a matcha cheesecake—along with a glass of milk, instructing them to bring three packets of white sugar as well.
After finishing all this, she turned back to Lu Xin with an apologetic smile: “I won’t be going this afternoon either. See you tomorrow.”
Before Lu Xin could react, the man who had claimed to be in a bad mood flipped a page of the dessert menu and lazily asked the waiter to add a slice of Earl Grey mille-crêpe.
…
It was already 4 PM when they finished their afternoon tea and left.
It started snowing on the way back to the hotel.
Shan Chong looked at the young girl beside him. Her braided hair was full of white snowflakes, which quickly melted due to the lingering warmth from inside, disappearing into her hair.
She shivered silently from the cold, like a small stray dog next to a garbage bin.
Shan Chong casually took off his coat and threw it over her head. Suddenly enveloped by the man’s familiar scent, she froze for a moment, then looked up at him, her fair cheeks tinged with a hint of color.
“What are you looking at?” He lifted the corner of his lips. “Let’s go.”
They walked quickly, but when they reached the hotel entrance, their path was blocked by a delivery truck. Glancing at the black logo on the vehicle, they saw an SF Express courier walking out of the hotel, pulling a board bag.
As they walked around to the other side of the truck, Shan Chong unexpectedly came face to face with someone crouching behind the vehicle, smoking. Judging by their expressions, both felt this chance encounter was rather inauspicious.
Dai Duo, expressionless, held a cigarette between his lips as he watched his board bag being loaded onto the delivery truck. He took out his phone and drawled at the courier, “Where do I scan for the delivery fee?”
Looking at the fee, he said, “It’s just an hour’s drive away, why so expensive? Are you overcharging?… Remote area? Sending from one remote area to another is still called a remote area. I’m going to complain about you guys.”
Still as uselessly talkative as ever.
Shan Chong felt like he’d lose years of his life just hearing that voice. Expressionless, he was about to brush past him when suddenly there was a “pat” sound behind him, accompanied by a painless impact on his back. A snowball exploded against him—
Shan Chong wasn’t startled.
Instead, it was the young girl walking shoulder to shoulder with him who was frightened.
He paused mid-step, caught between continuing to walk without looking back and turning around. He chose the latter, but his face was cold, his dark eyes bottomless as he looked down at the young man crouching by the delivery truck.
The latter now had his arms stretched out, elbows resting on his knees, cigarette dangling from his mouth. If not for his fair, exquisitely handsome face, he’d look like a complete street punk… His eyes were slightly upturned as he looked at Shan Chong from afar: “Not going to Altay?”
Now Shan Chong’s mood wasn’t good.
He felt these people were sick.
Today they seemed to have formed a team to call him to Altay.
He answered with a silent denial. Dai Duo wasn’t too surprised and laughed, “Forgot, you don’t compete anymore. Don’t know what you’d do there… Can’t exactly crouch under the platform just to applaud.”
“…” Shan Chong’s face was expressionless. “You called me over just to pick a fight? Masochist?”
The cigarette in Dai Duo’s mouth twitched upwards as he let out an ambiguous laugh. Amidst the sparks, his voice was muffled: “It’s nothing. You can go. I don’t talk to wastes.”
As his words fell, silence descended around them.
The SF Express guy couldn’t read the subtle atmosphere floating in the air. With a “creak,” he pulled the handbrake. Sitting in the truck, his eyes darted back and forth between the two handsome men who chose to stand in the snow rather than under shelter. He inwardly sighed, “The good-looking ones don’t like the opposite sex,” then cast a sympathetic glance at the young girl standing silently to the side like a statue…
Then he slowly rode away on his little tricycle.
The sky was gloomy.
Snow fell from the thick, light gray cloud layer, seeming to make a sound as it hit the ground.
The man standing on the hotel steps, half turned, looked down at the crouching figure not far away… The latter had told him to leave, but he didn’t immediately turn to go. Not until a snowflake landed on his fan-like eyelashes, trembled, and melted.
“How many points have you got?”
The man asked, his voice low and lazy, almost scattered by the wind and snow.
Dai Duo bit the cigarette butt: “Just over 600.”
The Winter Olympics used a points system for qualifying participants.
Before each Winter Olympics, athletes wanting to compete for Olympic qualification had to participate in various International Ski Federation-organized events like World Cups, World Championships, Continental Cups, etc., earning points based on their rankings—
Then, until just before the Winter Olympics, the top thirty athletes in total points for each event automatically qualified for the Olympics.
Just over 600 points was, honestly, a bit low.
Based on previous Winter Olympics point situations, over 800 points were more stable.
“You aren’t worried at all,” Shan Chong said flatly. “I want to kick you.”
Hearing this, Dai Duo laughed: “Quite a few people are going to the World Cup in Altay this time. Getting in the top three should give about 90-something points.”
Winter Olympic qualifying competitions varied in scale, and the points awarded weren’t fixed but directly linked to the participating athletes—
For instance, if world-renowned athletes in that event participated in the competition, the ranking point rewards would naturally be higher.
Conversely, the point rewards might be as meager as alms for beggars.
Shan Chong naturally understood these rules. Hearing this, he did not comment, and for once didn’t say something like “You won’t get any decent ranking.”
Perhaps it was the snowy day, the surroundings too quiet. He couldn’t even remember which lifetime it was when he last had a proper conversation with Dai Duo… After hesitating for three seconds, he stepped forward to the young man, his shadow enveloping him.
As the latter looked up at him somewhat bewildered, he bent down and plucked the cigarette from his mouth, tossing it into the snow.
The cigarette that had been glowing met the cold white snow and went out with a “hiss.”
“Smokeless while you’re active,” Shan Chong said. “If Wang Xin sees, he’ll be furious with you.”
Dai Duo chuckled softly, without much mirth, turning his head to stare at the extinguished cigarette, muttering quietly: “If anyone’s going to infuriate him, it’s you first… He’s been asking around these past few days about you, this dead salted fish, wondering if you have any intention of going to Altay.”
“Including Old Lu?”
“He even asked Old Lu?”
Dai Duo’s voice began to sound a bit doubtful about his coach’s mental state.
“What would I do in Altay?”
“…”
The man’s somewhat uncooperative attitude brought Dai Duo back from pondering his coach’s mental state. He fell silent for three seconds, his smile fading as he pressed his lips together, revealing a somewhat frustrated expression: “Shan Chong, don’t you have any self-respect? Or is the whole world unable to wake someone who’s pretending to sleep?”
“What am I pretending about?”
“That video Weizhi recorded for you yesterday, wasn’t that a jump platform you were flying off?”
“Yes, a small jump.”
“On a small jump, you can spin that many times in the air? Are you a god?”
“It was just a 0.1-second shadow. How could you see how many times I spun?”
Dai Duo completely lost patience. He stood up and threw his phone hard at the man in front of him: “Look at it, damn it!”
His voice was like thunder before a storm.
“Shan Chong! Can you look in a mirror and see what a shell of yourself you’ve become? I don’t understand you. You can still jump, so why the hell do you refuse to—”
The phone fell to the ground with a “thud,” interrupting his words. The screen cracked, lying pitifully between them.
No one moved to pick it up. There was only a brief, suffocating silence.
“Tell Wang Xin I won’t be going to Altay,” Shan Chong finally broke the silence, his voice very calm. “If he wants to come to the Silk Road, he’s welcome to find me for a drink.”
As he spoke, he suddenly felt the aura beside him change again. He turned to look at the young girl wrapped in his coat, frozen with only her eyes visible, staring at him intently—
He paused.
Then he looked down at the bandage on her injured hand, vaguely recalling that night when he poured a glass of beer, and she had the same expression, her eyes almost popping out…
Chuckling to himself, he added: “Wait until after your competition. The timing should be about right for when the doctor approves you to drink.”
The intense stare disappeared.
“…”
“That’s all.”
After saying this, he showed no lingering attachment, turning to leave and ascending the steps he should have climbed five minutes ago.
After a couple of steps, as if remembering something, he turned back to see Weizhi still standing on the steps. She was now twisting her head to look at Dai Duo, a hesitant expression in her eyes as she asked: “You have a competition next week, right? Even if people don’t believe in gods or Buddha, they usually know to be kind for at least ten days before doing something important, so—”
The man raised an eyebrow, reaching out to tug on her coat hood, saying in a deep voice: “So what?”
Weizhi: “…”
Shan Chong: “Aren’t you coming?”
Her unfinished words were forcibly cut off. She “Oh” -ed and hurriedly followed.
Then both of them disappeared from Dai Duo’s sight.
—Not even leaving a proper “good luck in the competition” or any such well-wishes.
Left alone, Dai Duo stood there in a daze for quite a while. When he finally looked up in the direction the man had left, it was as if no one had ever been there.
His eyes gradually focused, staring at the empty air and snow. He took a deep breath, his dark eyes clouded with gloom.
“F*ck.”