Five minutes later, the entire snow community, regardless of region, erupted in a frenzy. The situation changed rapidly, evolving through several stages:
Stage 1: “Holy crap, Shan Chong is in Altay! What’s he doing there? Is there something happening in Altay? … Oh, there’s a Big Air World Cup!”
Stage 2: “Big Air World Cup! Spread the news! Shan Chong is making a comeback!”
Stage 3: “Oh, Shan Chong isn’t making a comeback. The FIS people caught him at the halfpipe… That’s just absurd.”
Stage 4: “Shan Chong can ride the halfpipe?”
Stage 5: Heated discussions about whether Shan Chong can ride the halfpipe.
As Shan Chong descended from the halfpipe, he found himself surrounded and cornered. This gave him the strange feeling that he wasn’t a retired athlete past his prime, but rather some celebrity who had committed a crime. It seemed everyone wanted to get a scoop from him.
Someone asked, “Weren’t you at the Silk Road Ski Resort before? Why did you suddenly come to Altay?”
He replied, “I got bored of Awen… Since I’m here, why not visit all the ski resorts?”
Another questioned, “Didn’t you come to watch the FIS Big Air World Cup?”
“It wasn’t my main purpose,” he answered.
“So you’ll still watch it?”
“Watching isn’t… illegal, is it?”
“How did you end up on the halfpipe?”
Faced with this question, the man fell into an unusual silence, his gaze briefly shifting towards Wei Zhi.
Bei Ci stood nearby, expressionless, thinking to himself that he had asked the same question before. How had this man answered then?
— “My little disciple wanted to see it.”
Hah.
Let’s see if you dare to answer the same way this time, you bold bastard.
Just as Bei Ci was gleefully watching from the sidelines, the man slowly let out an “Ah,” his expression barely changing as he casually replied, “My little disciple wanted to see it.”
Bei Ci: “…”
He dared.
The commotion at the scene, the sounds of phones and camera shutters, suddenly paused. The barrage of questions that had been audible moments ago fell silent for a good ten seconds. Then, as if on cue, everyone turned to look at the young girl who had been ignored like air until now—
If she were a cat, her tail would probably be all puffed up by now.
Her shoulders stiffened, and she blinked in shock, taking two steps back.
Someone recognized Wei Zhi: “Isn’t this the one who filmed your video before? You even posted it online, just a few days ago—the Nitro park board!”
Shan Chong lazily raised his eyelashes, glancing at Wei Zhi, who had nearly frozen into a statue. “Mm, it’s her… You even recognized that?”
“Ah, that front edge catch. I’ve only watched it ten times.”
Behind his face guard, the man’s lips curled slightly, his tone becoming a bit softer: “That video went viral that day, right? The kid got angry with me, so to apologize, I gave her a special privilege. I let her choose which prop or terrain to use for Burton’s new board promotional video—”
And then they were caught in Altay…
Make her go viral again?
The crowd’s thoughts ran wild, silently criticizing.
Seemingly sensing the subtle gazes from everyone, the man paused before continuing in a steady voice: “She didn’t hold back and chose the halfpipe. I’m not very good at it, so I’ve been practicing these past few days.”
He finished speaking.
For a moment, everyone present wanted to bend down and search the ground for points to criticize—
From “Ah, the boss admits he’s not good at halfpipe but says it with the same confidence as ‘I’m going to win gold at next year’s Olympics,’ the boss is truly the boss” to “Ah, who is this girl and where did she get so many privileges” to “Ah, with the World Cup coming up, why are you messing with the halfpipe instead of practicing on the big air jump, is this how the boss wastes his talents?”…
Everyone exchanged bewildered glances.
By now, the commotion had attracted attention from those who shouldn’t have noticed.
Surrounded by the crowd, Shan Chong lifted his eyelids and caught sight of a red figure in the distance looking their way. He froze, then watched as the figure started walking towards them.
And walking faster, until it almost became a sprint.
Shan Chong: “…”
The big air jump and the halfpipe were two large terrain features, each occupying a significant area. The halfpipe, due to its unique shape, was built on a snow slope…
So now, at the bottom of the slope, Wang Xin—a man pushing fifty (not really)—was clinging to the snow slope, trying to climb up towards the halfpipe using both hands and feet.
Shan Chong: “……”
Averting his gaze, the man expressionlessly told those around him: “Are you done with the questions? If so, I’m leaving. My stomach suddenly hurts.”
As he said this, he showed no signs of stomach pain, but no one dared to call his bluff.
He was retired now, a free man.
So neither the media nor the system could control him. If he didn’t cooperate, the surrounding media and other staff could only let him go.
The man picked up his snowboard and, under the wistful gaze of the media people hoping for a scoop, turned to leave without a backward glance.
Wei Zhi and Bei Ci followed behind him like bodyguards. Bei Ci was fine, but Wei Zhi suffered—the man walked so fast that she had to almost hop and run to keep up with him, panting as she listened to his conversation with Bei Ci.
“Why are we running?” asked Bei Ci, who was barely keeping up despite his best efforts.
“…Wang Xin is coming,” Shan Chong said. “That’s still a bit scary.”
“Why are you afraid of him? You’ve been retired for so long! He’s almost forty, and you’re nearly thirty. At his age, he probably can’t even lift a stick anymore.”
“You’re this old now, but don’t you still run all over the mountain when your dad chases you with a cane during New Year’s?”
Shan Chong walked on without looking back.
Just then, from behind them, a middle-aged man’s voice boomed, “Shan Chong, stop right there!” The voice was so powerful it nearly knocked Wei Zhi face-first into the snow—
After barely regaining her balance, she immediately looked up at the man walking ahead…
His psychological resilience was impressive.
He didn’t even turn his head, just walked faster.
As if a ghost were chasing him.
Wei Zhi felt infected by this tense atmosphere. Her scalp tingled as she silently followed, running until she was out of breath and full of questions: The person behind wasn’t chasing her, so why was she running scared too?
But her feet didn’t stop.
Until a huge snowball whizzed past her head from behind, catching everyone off guard, and “splat!” — it hit the man’s back hard. The snowball shattered, spraying snow everywhere, some even flying into Wei Zhi’s mouth and nose!
The young girl sneezed hard.
The man walking in front finally seemed to react, as if struck by pain or something else. His previously hurried steps faltered, and he turned his head, his dark gaze gradually focusing.
Finally, he stood quietly, calmly looking at the red-clad middle-aged man who had caught up behind them.
…Although the middle-aged man was far from calm.
“Keep running!” he cursed. “Damn it, why’d you stop?”
Seeing that the front man had finally stopped and turned around, Wang Xin leaned against a tree trunk, catching his breath. He felt like his heart was about to jump out of his throat. After crawling up the snow slope on all fours and then sprinting through the snow, he had even bent down to make a snowball for a shot put throw—
This series of actions was no different from a triathlon!
With his old arms and legs, what sin had he committed to deserve this?
Wang Xin was filled with rage. He was already furious about how Dai Duo had lost his mind over a single video from Shan Chong, and now the troublemaker himself had unexpectedly appeared in Altay…
By the halfpipe!
Just a straight-line distance of 30-50 meters from the big air jump!
…He suspected Shan Chong wouldn’t rest until he had angered him to death!
“Shan Chong, if you’re not guilty, why are you running?” Wang Xin said. “Do you think I’m going to eat you alive?”
“I don’t know about eating,” Shan Chong said seriously, “but you’re certainly not here for a friendly chat.”
Wang Xin stood up, opening his mouth—
Only to see the man raise his hand and cover the ears of the young girl beside him.
Wang Xin: “…”
Wang Xin: “What’s the meaning of this?”
Shan Chong: “Don’t use foul language.”
Wang Xin: “So you’ve become civilized now!”
Shan Chong: “Mm, aren’t people supposed to grow?”
Wang Xin: “Grow… I’ll show you grow—I’m talking bull—”
Shan Chong didn’t react, just pressed his hands more firmly over Wei Zhi’s ears. Seeing his behavior, Wang Xin became even more furious. His face, which had been pale from running, now flushed red like a pig’s liver.
His tone was far from pleasant: “When did you come to Altay? Weren’t you at the Silk Road Ski Resort? What are you trying to do by coming here?”
He fired off a series of questions, to which Shan Chong only gave a confused look, not understanding why everyone was acting as if his coming to ski was some grand conspiracy that had the whole world on edge—
“If you’re not jumping, what are you doing in Altay? Watching others jump? You’re going to sit in the spectator stands? Really? Are you sick? Can you sit still? Can you sleep at night?”
Wang Xin didn’t even give him a chance to breathe, firing off questions and insults in rapid succession.
Before Shan Chong could speak, Dai Duo had also caught up, just in time to hear the tail end of “Can you sleep at night?” He didn’t bother asking what Wang Xin had been yelling about earlier, figuring it was best to just join in the scolding.
The young man with delicate features sneered: “What’s there for him to lose sleep over? It’s not like he has a heart.”
Hearing the young man’s sarcastic voice behind him, Wang Xin grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at him, cursing, “He doesn’t have a heart, and you do? You shut your mouth too!”
Dai Duo was hit in the face with snow but didn’t seem to mind much. He casually brushed the snow off his face and stood there lazily, enduring the scolding alongside Shan Chong.
The entire mountainside echoed with Wang Xin’s loud scolding. Shan Chong and Dai Duo maintained their initial postures, standing obediently like schoolchildren, neither moving an inch.
This scene felt oddly familiar.
The wind on the mountaintop was strong, kicking up snow dust that blurred one’s vision, making people dizzy and feeling as if today’s wind on the Altay mountaintop somehow carried the mist from Changbai Mountain’s Tianchi Lake.
…
It wasn’t some earth-shattering event.
Yet Shan Chong remembered it quite clearly.
It was probably towards the end of the 2018 snow season. He was still on the national team, having just failed in his attempt to win a medal at the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics. He had returned to Changbai Mountain, where life went on as usual. He continued training as if the previous disappointment had never happened.
No one mentioned the regrets from the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics.
Everyone said, “Wait for the Beijing Winter Olympics. A medal won at home will be more memorable.”
This tolerant environment existed mainly because skiing wasn’t a snow sport that attracted much attention at the time. Compared to the Summer Olympics, few people paid attention to the Winter Olympics… The Pyeongchang Winter Olympics had made some waves, but most viewers were focused on speed skating and figure skating. The remaining attention was spent criticizing the blatant manipulations by the host country, South Korea, in various competitions.
Everyone was busy, and no one noticed the snowboarder in the big air event who had a chance at a medal but ultimately failed.
Returning to Changbai Mountain, everything seemed calm on the surface. Shan Chong accompanied Dai Duo—the “big air prodigy” he had picked up on the mountain—in secluded training. The two of them buried themselves in perfecting the line 2160.
At that time, no one in China could perform this difficult rotation.
…Even worldwide, those who could consistently perform this trick in regular training could be counted on one hand.
The two of them, right under Wang Xin’s nose, worked together in isolation.
Changbai Mountain is covered in snow year-round, and while the ski resort isn’t large, it offers the best conditions in China.
From the edge of the 20-meter-high jump, a young man in a white snowsuit—who could still be called a youth at the time—suddenly appeared. He tucked, grabbed his board, and spun—
After about five and a half rotations, he landed on the ground with a “thud,” rolling several times before crashing into a nearby barrier.
His entire body felt as if it had been shattered. He couldn’t get up immediately and just lay buried in the snow, his ear pressed against the ground, listening to the muffled sound of board edges cutting through the snow surface. The noise stopped right next to him.
“Your takeoff angle was wrong. The board nose flying out at an angle is for a half-rotation, so you’d max out at 1980, not 2160. A full rotation needs to be straight. Think about how you take off for an 1800. Your edge wasn’t high enough, and you rushed the shoulder rotation. Why are you panicking?”
The man’s flat voice sounded above his head.
“Your landing habit is ridiculous too. The snowboard is so long, and the run is so wide, yet you insist on landing on the tail or the back edge? Your timing coming off the jump was also off. Did you catch an edge the moment you took off? I saw snow dust—are you trying to spray the wall while still on the jump?”
Dai Duo’s fingers, buried in the snow, twitched slightly.
The man standing next to him noticed this, paused, then bent down. With a swift motion, he lifted Dai Duo out of the snow, brushing off the snow from his body as he concluded: “Even a donkey would have learned by now.”
“…You’re so great, why don’t you try it?” Dai Duo, still unable to straighten up from the pain, glanced sideways at Shan Chong. “If you’re so capable, let’s see you do a 2160 first! Frontside cork, backside cork, or line, as long as it’s a 2160—”
“You just crashed on a 1980. Where do you get the nerve to mention 2160?”
“Then you do a 1980!!!”
“Oh, I could do a 1980 right over your head.”
“Oh? Anyone can talk big—Bei Ci, come on, get the camera ready. Let’s see our ‘God Chong’ perform a big air human flight!”
Dai Duo dragged the man back to the edge of the jump. He tossed his snowboard aside and, despite his aching body, managed to climb up the already high jump and stand steady. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he turned around and gestured above his head, as if to say: Come on, fly!
Shan Chong stood at the starting point, adjusting his bindings.
“No way,” Bei Ci, who hadn’t seen much of the world yet, stared at the man’s calm series of actions, looking as if he was preparing to do it. “Are you serious? You’re going to fly over his head? If you don’t make it, won’t his head be ruined—”
The board was so hard!
And the edges were sharp!
It was a big air jump! How much momentum would he have flying off it?
“Mm,” the man who had finished strapping in straightened up, cracking his wrists and neck with a “crack” “crack”. His expression was cold and proud. “Dangerous stunt, not to be attempted by non-professionals.”
Leaving behind these words and a group of dumbfounded onlookers, he set off.
The black figure dropped from the jump’s starting point, like a bird spreading its wings. With a few simple edge changes, he quickly ascended the twenty-meter-high jump—
Pull up.
Tuck.
Take off.
Amidst the cheers and gasps of the crowd, it was as if wings had suddenly sprouted from the man’s back. He jumped extremely high, his board just barely grazing a few millimeters above the safety helmet of the young man standing with hands on hips at the top of the jump. He bent down and grabbed his board.
Spin.
Frontside cork 1980, smoothly rotating five and a half times in mid-air, tracing a perfect parabola.
Just before landing, he released his board, his body stretching out, adopting a compression posture. The snowboard landed with a “thud” firmly on the landing zone, riding on the front edge for five or six meters before sweeping the snow with the tail, backside slide, and stopping.
“Damn… Damn?”
“Holy shit!! That was awesome!!! God Chong!!!”
“Did you record it? Did you record it? Damn, even the kids next door are drooling with envy! I’m posting this on WeChat Moments!”
“Did you get it?”
“You got that whole 1980 on video, right? Tonight I’ll hop the wall and post it online to show those foreigners—”
Amidst the sighs and praises coming from all directions around the jump, the man bent down to remove his board, slightly narrowing his eyes as he glanced at Dai Duo standing on the big air jump.
He raised his right hand, gave a thumbs up, then turned it upside down.
He gestured to him.
Dragging his snowboard back, just as he was about to go up and exchange a few more words with the talkative Dai Duo, the man suddenly stopped climbing and stood still.
Crouching at the edge of the jump, Dai Duo lowered his head to look at him: “What’s wrong?”
Shan Chong jerked his chin towards the starting point.
Dai Duo looked back, oh, Wang Xin had arrived.
At this moment, they saw their coach standing at the starting point, hands on his hips, legs apart, like King Yama reincarnated. His face was dark as he received the gazes of both of them, and he roared: “Damn you both!!! Am I having eye problems or am I sleepwalking into a nightmare? What the hell were you doing just now? Did Red Bull sign you or something, one daring to stand there and the other daring to jump? Are you both tired of living? Should I screw your head off? Is this how you’re supposed to use the big air jump?!!!!”
Dai Duo: “…”
Shan Chong: “…”
As Wang Xin cursed, he slid down the starting point, ready to throw punches.
Having just pulled off a dangerous stunt, the two exchanged a glance. Shan Chong moved first, dropping the snowboard he was holding without a second thought, and turned to run!
Dai Duo used both hands and feet to slide down the opposite side of the jump like a slide, following right behind Shan Chong in a mad dash!
Amidst the gleeful cheering from the spectators, Wang Xin chased after them, cursing as he went, while bending down to make snowballs and throw them—
This old man used to do track and field when he was young, and his aim was deadly accurate. Each throw hit its mark and hurt like hell. Chasing after the two, he was out of breath but it didn’t stop him from cursing loudly, distributing his curses evenly.
At that time, half of Changbai Mountain echoed with his curses.
Back then, Changbai Mountain was full of people, and everyone was there.
They say Changbai Mountain is special, and that spirits exist there. Shan Chong once believed it was a place protected by the gods.
…
Wang Xin’s appearance seemed to shatter some kind of deadlock.
Although he was out of breath, red-faced and thick-necked, spewing a bunch of meaningless curses, on the way back from the ski resort to the hotel, Wei Zhi sensed Shan Chong’s waning interest.
He barely spoke the entire way.
The video from the halfpipe had already been posted, and with the brand’s immediate repost boost, the likes and comments on the short video platform were insane— countless people who had heard the rumor “Shan Chong is playing in the halfpipe in Altay” in WeChat groups were waiting on the short video platform for his update.
Now the update had arrived.
Shan Chong had never really been on a halfpipe before, so naturally, this video caused quite a stir when it was posted—
Shortly after the video was posted, this year’s new Custom model saw a small surge in orders at various dealers…
It could be said that he had balanced the scales for his two sponsor daddies, Burton and Nitro, making both host and guest happy.
With nothing else to do, Wei Zhi learned about the joy of Burton dealers opening orders, and following a group message sent by a happy dealer, she sneaked into a snow enthusiast group, which was very lively—
[Aka I heard God Chong is in love.]
[Mental illness is not contagious: Huh?]
[Aka: It’s true, my friend in FIS said so. He’s on the halfpipe this time because of… love?]
[Mental illness is not contagious: Don’t talk nonsense! I didn’t see anything like that!]
[Aka: What the hell would you see! Tell me, a person who only ever posts skiing videos, at most slightly longer ones when he’s trying hard to promote products, suddenly stops promoting and posts a video of a woman!]
[Mental illness is not contagious: Yeah, and then?]
[Aka: Doesn’t it have the same vibe as those pet notices on the utility poles downstairs— “Let me show you my cat, it’s not lost, just want you to see how cute it is.”]
[Mental illness is not contagious: …]
Wei Zhi: “…”
Her heart was about to jump out of her chest.
Her ears burned.
Maintaining a calm face, Wei Zhi sighed, “If you talk like this at the wedding, you’ll definitely be seated at one of the first three tables,” and reluctantly exited the WeChat group of Shan Chong’s bragging fans.
Refreshing the comments under Shan Chong’s short video platform, there were naturally all kinds of comments, but most followed this trend: Even if you don’t get on the jump, it’s okay. If you switch to halfpipe and practice hard for a year, I think you could still make it in time to win a medal at next year’s home Winter Olympics.
Wei Zhi: “…”
These snow enthusiasts, once they decide to be decent, really know how to talk.
However, this was of no use.
Perhaps tired of all kinds of flattery, the man seemed unmoved by these praises, looking as if his soul had been scared away by Wang Xin’s appearance. Wei Zhi didn’t even have time to be jealous that another person had suddenly appeared who made her secret crush so preoccupied… and it was a middle-aged man pushing forty at that.
Several times she followed behind the man, wanting to speak but hesitating.
The phone in her hand vibrated. She picked it up and saw that the sender was Bei Ci, walking two or three meters ahead—
[Bei Ci: Your mouth opening and closing right now looks like a goldfish.]
Wei Zhi rolled her eyes.
By now they had reached the hotel lobby. As soon as they pushed open the door, they saw Hua Yan sitting on the lobby sofa playing with her phone.
Hearing the noise, the pretty older sister looked up and got straight to the point without beating around the bush, saying she had been waiting for them here on purpose. Because of Shan Chong’s video, the whole world now knew he was in Altay, and friends here were eager to have a drink with him.
Shan Chong thought for a moment and didn’t refuse.
It was quite rare.
Judging from the previous few times when everyone drank themselves into a stupor, with only him remaining sober and dutifully cleaning up after them like a corpse transporter, he was never one to actively seek out drinks.
— This confirmed that his mood was indeed not good at the moment.
In this situation, having a couple of drinks to relax didn’t seem excessive, so Wei Zhi didn’t remind him about his hand injury. He had removed the stitches these past few days and only had a thin layer of bandage wrapped around it to prevent further abrasion…
She silently followed a couple of steps behind him.
Hearing the footsteps behind him, the man paused and turned back to the young girl following his every step: “You go back and rest.”
Wei Zhi: “I want to go too.”
Her resolute tone made Shan Chong raise an eyebrow: “What are you going to do at a drinking party?”
Wei Zhi: “Am I not allowed to go to a drinking party?”
Shan Chong: “What are you drinking during your period?”
“…”
Oh, she had almost forgotten about that.
“The doctor said as long as my stomach doesn’t hurt, it’s fine if I don’t drink anything too cold… I can go eat fruit!”
Anyway, I need to keep an eye on you.
Wei Zhi was very persistent, mainly because if this invitation had come from someone else, like Lao Yan, it would have been fine, but the fact that it came from Hua Yan — what did that symbolize —
The invitation coming through her meant there would inevitably be a table full of older sisters waiting to comfort the gloomy and depressed King…
The more she thought about it, the more absurd it seemed, and the more determined the young girl became to go along. She reached out and grabbed the man’s sleeve, her almond eyes bright as she stared him down.
Until the man raised his hand, reclaiming his sleeve, silently acquiescing.
She followed behind him with her head held high as they entered the bar—
Then, upon seeing the group waiting for them, her heart let out a “whoa.”
Apart from familiar faces like Lao Yan and Jiang Nanfeng, there was Caribbean Pirate Bear and her friend Huhu, female students Shan Chong had taught and hadn’t taught, and other pretty internet celebrity sisters she often saw on short video sites…
Now Wei Zhi believed what the man had said on the day they checked in: Altay was crowded.
Impressive.
It was crowded.
Everyone squeezed in, and they finally managed to squeeze in and sit down. The atmosphere in the entire bar immediately picked up. The place was packed with people sitting, and various types of drinks and snacks filled the table.
Wei Zhi sat down next to Jiang Nanfeng, who smiled and said in a voice only the two of them could hear: “I knew you would come along.”
Wei Zhi glanced at Little Bear, who had somehow also arrived in Altay. Today she had tied her hair in a high ponytail with a towel-like headband, looking clean, neat, and very sporty and energetic…
She was truly beautiful.
She pursed her lips and squeezed out a few words from the corner of her mouth: “The radar shows an ambush ahead. I’d be a fool to feel at ease going back to lie in the hotel room without coming along.”
“Alright, those years of updates from Mrs. Otaku weren’t wasted, living up to the title of manga creator,” Jiang Nanfeng was very pleased. “The radar is accurate.”
“Fair competition. If I’m not smart enough, I’ll have to call someone else ‘shimu’ (teacher’s wife).”
The two were whispering.
Over there, Little Bear raised her glass first: “I just saw God Chong’s Altay video, I was amazed. When did you come to Altay, and when did you learn to ride the halfpipe so well!”
Her lively voice was a bit hoarse, probably from speaking too loudly.
But what she said was good, immediately bringing everyone’s topic together — originally, because there were so many people, everyone was chatting in small groups, but now hearing her speak, they all raised their glasses together, creating a lively atmosphere.
The foreign liquor in front of Wei Zhi had no ice cubes. She glanced at it and picked it up directly.
The bar’s lighting was dark, making it hard to see the expression of the man sitting in the middle of the crowd, but there was a sense of decadence in the air — at least Dai Duo, as an active athlete, didn’t dare touch a drop of alcohol, apart from secretly smoking.
This sudden comparison that popped into his mind made the man’s face even more somber.
After clinking glasses with a few nearby people, he woodenly downed the amber liquid in his glass in one go. It went down smoothly, but he knew it was a high-proof whiskey.
He didn’t know who had ordered it.
A burning aftertaste rose in his throat.
He had just put down his glass when he heard Jiang Nanfeng worriedly saying to the person beside her, “Wei Zhi, that’s enough for you, you didn’t even look at what kind of alcohol you’re drinking… If you get drunk later and start calling the whole world again, I won’t take care of you!”
Shan Chong turned his head to look.
Feeling his gaze, Jiang Nanfeng seemed to have caught a lifeline, muttering “Look, someone who can manage you has arrived,” and moved back a bit, indicating that Shan Chong could start exercising his parental authority.
Unexpectedly, the man only paused slightly and put down his empty glass.
He raised his hand to rub his brow, then curled his lips slightly, appearing somewhat indifferent.
“No need to worry.”
The man’s expression slowly relaxed.
“I’m here. Who else could she possibly call?”