Snow goggles? Wei Zhi stared blankly at the man for a few seconds.
“The goggles are in the helmet. It was snowing and foggy up on the mountain earlier, and I couldn’t see the path clearly, so I took them off. Look, they’re right here—” She reached into the helmet as she spoke, but when she pulled out the face guard, the helmet was empty. She stopped, confused, turned the empty helmet upside down, and shook it in disbelief.
Shan Chong’s face remained expressionless as he concluded for her: “They’re not there at all.”
Wei Zhi: “…”
The snow goggles were lost?
When?
She couldn’t even remember where she had started taking off the goggles. Then the board was so heavy, and her phone kept vibrating. She had been changing her grip on the snowboard in various ways out of frustration…
During that time, the helmet containing the goggles had been swinging back and forth in her hand.
Her mind went blank for a few seconds, then the young girl reflexively jumped off the man’s board, intending to walk back.
Shan Chong grabbed her, and she struggled with him for a moment until he took the helmet from her hands, put it on her head, and held onto her hand without letting go. “You go down the mountain first. I’ll come back up later and search along the path you came down.”
As he spoke, he lifted her back onto his snowboard and made her wrap her arms around his waist. The young girl, restrained by him, still craned her neck to look back up the mountain.
Shan Chong pressed down on her restless head. “Wouldn’t I find them faster on my board than you on your two legs? You’d be going up and down two kilometers, what is this, military training?”
He was teasing her, but she couldn’t laugh at all.
After the confusion came to a huge blow—
She wondered what kind of terrible day this was. The binding broke, and the goggles were lost. Did the almanac say “Don’t go out unless necessary” today?
Although Wei Zhi’s family had never stinted on her food, clothing, or necessities since she was young, they hadn’t instilled any bad habits in her either—
One of her few good habits was that she was particularly attached to old things.
For example, she wore a down jacket from kindergarten to fourth grade as an inner layer, from oversized to fitting, until her mother couldn’t stand it anymore and threw it in the garbage. That night, fourth-grade Wei Zhi hugged the empty garbage can and cried for two hours, heartbroken…
This stubborn childhood habit was perfectly preserved into adulthood.
As an adult, Wei Zhi’s most emblematic behavior of attachment to old things was that she wouldn’t replace her phone until it needed to be charged every two hours.
Moreover, regardless of whether she was attached to old things or not—
Those snow goggles were given to her by Shan Chong.
Strictly speaking, apart from the little turtle, the snow goggles should have been the first gift he gave her…
How could she lose them?
Sixty years later, she was supposed to take them into her coffin with her.
“What if someone picked them up?” She looked up at him and asked, “It takes a long time to go down and come back up, the cable car is so slow… Maybe they’ve already been taken.”
“Most people would turn them in if they found them,” Shan Chong said. “If they’re gone, just let it go. It’s only a pair of snow goggles.”
She was silent for two seconds, then buried her face in his chest and lowered her head, speaking in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz: “Those goggles were so expensive, and you gave them to me.”
She was terribly dejected, suddenly as listless as if someone had beaten her. It was clear that if she hadn’t lost them herself, she might have been rolling on the ground throwing a tantrum by now.
“The snowboard was so heavy earlier, and my phone kept ringing. My mom must have seen my Moments post and was calling me, the phone was almost out of battery from all her calls. It was chaos,” she rambled, her voice full of self-reproach. “I must have lost them then. It’s so annoying, why did she have to keep calling me? No matter how many calls she makes, I still have a boyfriend.”
She was muttering to herself.
Then Shan Chong, with his wealth of experience, judged from the moisture in her voice that if he didn’t say something soon, his snow jacket would need an early wash.
“It’s okay, I’m not blaming you… Besides, weren’t those goggles from Dai Duo?” He supported her as they slid down. “If we really can’t find them, it’s fine. Your boyfriend will buy you new ones.”
“No,” she said softly, clutching his snow jacket at the waist. “They’re so expensive. You only earn 1500 per person for an hour-long lesson.”
But there are ten people in a class.
Shan Chong didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “Have I come across as too stingy in front of you? Have I given you some kind of psychological trauma? Hm? Do you think your boyfriend is a penniless wretch or something?”
He was trying to distract her by teasing her into conversation, but she ignored him completely. When they finally slid down to the equipment hall, she borrowed a snowboard from Yanyan, who was about her height, hugged it, and rushed towards the cable car.
As everyone looked on in confusion, Shan Chong explained briefly, “Her snow goggles are missing,” then turned and chased after her with his snowboard.
The two hurriedly boarded the cable car. She didn’t say a word the whole way, just leaned against the cable car window looking down, as if her eyes had 20/20 vision.
Shan Chong didn’t say anything more. After getting off the cable car, he accompanied her along the edge of the north-advanced slope, searching.
They expanded their search radius to five meters on either side but still couldn’t find the goggles.
That evening, Wei Zhi was so upset she didn’t eat dinner and went straight back to her room at the hotel.
But that wasn’t all.
Shan Chong suspected that not only was she feeling miserable, but she didn’t want others to feel good either. Before turning to go back to her room, the young girl tugged at his sleeve, looked at him with red eyes, and said seriously, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
It made his heart ache terribly.
He could only stare helplessly as she turned back to her room, dejected until the door closed in his face. He couldn’t get a single word out.
…
Shan Chong returned to his room and spent an hour self-reflecting on how his stinginess had caused psychological trauma to the young girl.
Then at 8 PM, the iron rooster decided to pluck his feathers.
The man took out his phone and sent a group message to all the students he had lessons with that day. The content was roughly—
In five days, after all the group lessons end, based on (including but not limited to) the teaching content, he would hold a small internal competition.
The competition was limited to students from his group lessons these days.
Everyone would perform tricks on the same box feature. To ensure everyone started on an equal footing, those who had already taken earlier lessons must incorporate new small tricks. Finally, based on overall scores, first, second, and third places would be evaluated, and Shan Chong would personally pay for rewards.
What were the rewards?
First place: Burton snow goggles (style to be chosen according to the winner’s gender and preference)
Second place: Swans snow goggles (style to be chosen according to the winner’s gender and preference)
Third place: Oakley snow goggles (style to be chosen according to the winner’s gender and preference)
Beici saw the competition rules and final rewards the man was working on and fell into a speechless silence.
Beici: “…Why don’t you just buy her a new pair of goggles? This is so much trouble.”
The man lowered his eyes and said lazily in a nasal voice: “No can do.”
Beici: “If Dai Duo knew his goggles caused such a big fuss, he’d be very touched.”
Shan Chong’s pen swept across the list of participants’ names. He tossed the pen aside and said, “Weren’t those goggles a gift from me?”
Beici: “You told the little disciple yourself it was no big deal, that they were Dai Duo’s.”
“That was just to comfort her. Would you rather she cried? You want to console her?”
He paused, then showed a complicated expression.
“Forget it. She’s already cried. I don’t even know what to say. Originally, I could have scolded her for being careless and not taking care of things, but she looked so dejected as if she hadn’t lost a pair of goggles but a box of gold bricks.”
He sighed again.
“It’s easy to teach someone to take care of things. Make her shed some tears and sweat—oh, blood isn’t necessary—shed some tears and sweat, and I guarantee she’ll sleep hugging the goggles she earned through labor, never daring to lose them again… Unlike now, when I can’t bring myself to scold her and have to worry if she’s crying herself to sleep tonight. I don’t dare give her things directly for fear of hurting her self-esteem, or in case she loses things again in the future and continues to blame herself.”
He said a lot.
Beici couldn’t answer a single word.
After thinking for a while, he could only ask sincerely: “Do men in love always talk so much nonsense?”
Shan Chong turned back and looked at him expressionlessly.
Beici looked away and continued picking at his foot.
As it turned out, Shan Chong’s method was quite effective.
That night, the young girl with puffy rabbit eyes knocked on his door.
“Is this competition set up for me?” Her voice was a bit hoarse as she held up her phone, looking at the list of prizes in the group message while peeking at the man standing in the doorway from behind her phone. “Isn’t it too obvious?”
“It’s good that you know,” Shan Chong looked down at her and said. “Practice hard these next few days. If you don’t place, not only will you lose face, but you’ll also waste my money.”
“Then you might as well buy me a new pair of goggles directly.”
“If I gave them to you directly, would you accept them?”
…Well, indeed, she wouldn’t.
If she didn’t place in the competition, she would truly waste about 6,000 yuan (roughly the total cost of the three pairs of goggles) of Shan Chong’s money.
Wei Zhi held the registration form, and successfully morally blackmailed… Sniffling pitifully, she solemnly wrote her name on the first line of the registration form.
…
Quite a few people came to register afterward.
Four days of group lessons, adding up to about a hundred people in total. Excluding those who couldn’t be bothered to embarrass themselves, as soon as the message was sent out, thirty to forty people signed up…
Mainly because the goggles offered as rewards weren’t cheap. If you won, it was almost like getting free lessons from Shan Chong plus a few hundred yuan extra – the thought alone was tempting.
For the next three days, Wei Zhi showed more diligence than she had in her senior year of high school, battling with the box every day. At night, she even dreamed of doing frontside slides—
On the fourth day, she unlocked the backside slide + switch landing.
It wasn’t taught by Shan Chong; for fairness, he hadn’t given Wei Zhi any lessons these past few days. She practiced on the park features entirely under Beici’s watchful eye. When she mastered the backside slide + switch landing, the two were so happy they ate an extra bowl of rice that night.
Soon, the day of the competition arrived.
“Go for it, you’re the best!”
Stephen Chow’s thumbs-up appeared before her—
From initially disdaining and refusing to participate in this ridiculous game, after being the little junior sister’s instructor for three days, Beici had now perfectly integrated into this childish level of competition. He even developed a sense of shared fate and honor with the little junior sister.
At the breakfast table, he wouldn’t even let Wei Zhi drink milk, telling her that moderate hunger could keep a person alert and excited. Their provincial team didn’t allow eating too much before halfpipe competitions either.
Wei Zhi believed him and handed the milk to Shan Chong.
“You two better place,” the man said, downing the milk the young girl handed him in one go. “Otherwise, I’ll consider those six thousand plus yuan as money spent on hearing a joke.”
Wei Zhi rolled her eyes at him.
After breakfast, everyone gathered at the competition venue—there were still the original forty to fifty participants who had signed up, but quite a few spectators had come to watch the excitement too. People were crowded three layers deep around the box in the terrain park.
Lao Yan laughed and said, “The box itself probably never imagined it would be so damn popular one day.”
The competition was fair, with three rounds in total, taking the best score.
Since there are currently no official competitions for snowboard terrain park features, the rules for this competition were adapted by Shan Chong from halfpipe and big air rules. Scoring was based on a combination of regular and switch stance approaches, stability on and off the box, and difficulty of tricks performed on the box…
Falling or sliding off the box before completing the slide would result in an invalid score.
The order of competition was determined by drawing lots.
Wei Zhi initially drew the number 16. By the time it was her turn, the quality of performances from those before her had been quite average. Several people were so nervous they didn’t even make it onto the box, sliding past on the snow instead.
When it was her turn, she was a bit nervous too. She straightened her board, approached the feature, and after sliding forward for two seconds, she slightly twisted her shoulders while simultaneously rotating her lower body and hips—
Halfway through a backside slide, she suddenly felt her sliding speed was a bit fast. She might not be able to complete the backside slide before reaching the end of the box.
She panicked for a moment and instinctively slowed down. She directly caught an edge on the feature, then lost her balance completely, sprawling horizontally across the box.
With a loud “thud,” the pain in her stomach was matched only by the sound of her board hitting the box.
The noise startled the judges. Shan Chong tossed the scoresheet he was holding to Beici and, before anyone else could react, stood up and walked over to the feature in a few strides, lifting the person hanging on it…
“Where does it hurt?” he asked. “Did you hit your ribs?”
……………To hit her ribs, she’d need to be skinny enough first.
These past few days, Wei Zhi had gained experience from falling. Today she was wearing a quick-dry shirt, thermal underwear, two layers of down vests, and a fleece sweatshirt on top – four or five layers plus her natural padding…
She raised her hand to rub her stomach: “My ribs are fine, I hit my stomach. My stomach must be bruised! Can you give me a few points of encouragement?”
“You were hanging on the feature,” Shan Chong said expressionlessly, relaxing his grip on her arm slightly when he heard she was okay. “Why did you catch an edge on top of the feature? Is that how I taught you? I’m not scolding you, and you’re still asking me for points.”
“…”
Fine.
As soon as he saw she was okay, he turned on her.
Wei Zhi let out a “hmph,” pulled her arm from his hand, and silently returned to the queue, waiting for the second round.
The box feature was so short that it only took about ten seconds for each of the forty to fifty people to go over it. Soon the first round was almost over. The guy in the first place had managed a switch approach + backside slide + regular landing, a set of moves that landed very stably, making people suspect he had been sleeping with the box these past few days.
When it was Wei Zhi’s turn in the second round, Shan Chong sat nearby, playing with the medals representing the placings in his hand. The clear, pleasant sound of metal clinking—
Wei Zhi had never seen a boyfriend so good at messing with people’s minds.
Gritting her teeth, she approached the feature’s regular stance. As she successfully jumped onto the box, her board edge struck the metal feature with a dull “thunk,” like a reassuring hammer striking her heart—
Protest.
Weight transfer.
Core engaged, hips rotating, pressing down to complete the backside slide.
On the feature, the young girl’s long curls danced with her subtle movements. Her gaze remained fixed on the direction of travel. At the end of the feature, a pull-up, a jump, switching to switch stance.
Accompanied by a beautiful inward rotation, her snowboard lifted about five centimeters in the air, following a small parabolic arc, landing steadily on the snow surface with a soft “pat.”
The crowd was quiet for a few seconds.
In the end, Shan Chong was the first to react. The man sitting not far away, one hand supporting his chin, the corner of his lips curling slightly, said: “This one was alright.”
Only then did the crowd erupt, breaking into enthusiastic applause. Everyone was a beginner, very friendly and supportive.
Finally, after three rounds of competition, in a fair, just, and open contest, Wei Zhi legitimately took second place—
This result surprised even herself. Looking at the forty to fifty defeated competitors, she felt she might be some kind of snowboarding prodigy.
…
The award ceremony was quite formal too.
Shan Chong personally handed out the small medals to the winners.
“Have you decided which goggles you want? Check the official website when you get back,” the man said flatly, standing in front of her. “If you’re not sure, come ask me.”
Wei Zhi’s expression was still dreamlike.
Well.
It all started because she lost a pair of goggles.
Then, for the sake of these goggles, instead of acting like other “doting boyfriends” who would shout “Daddy will buy you ten pairs” and buy her a bunch of new goggles, treating her like a pampered idiot…
He organized a competition, making her practice hard for four days, and finally won back the lost goggles herself.
During those four days of intense practice, she had already moved past the shadow of losing the goggles.
…To be honest, if she hadn’t been so busy focusing on practicing, she might still be hiding in some corner crying.
The moment the cold medal fell into her palm, she understood his intentions.
As she received the small medal with her ranking, Wei Zhi stared at the man’s well-defined fingers, lost in thought.
So, as if possessed.
When he placed the medal in her palm, she suddenly reached out and grasped his index finger before he could withdraw it.
Feeling his index finger held by her soft, warm palm, the man raised an eyebrow slightly and looked up at her.
Wei Zhi’s heart raced. She pressed her lips together.
Then she stood on her tiptoes.
Pulling the man’s finger to bring him closer, as he bent down following her lead, not understanding what was happening, she closed her eyes and her soft lips touched his—
Their breaths were suddenly very close. As she inhaled, her nostrils were filled with the familiar scent of the man.
Like a dragonfly skimming water, she carefully held his lip between hers, giving it a small bite. But she blushed, her back stiffening, and she started to pull back like a thief who knew when to quit.
Pulling back just a little, the young girl seemed to finally gather her courage. Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. Those dark eyes, like a feline who had successfully stolen some cream, sparkled brightly, looking at him with a hint of mischief.
—If it weren’t for her flushed cheeks.
Shan Chong, after his initial stupor, came back to his senses.
Amidst the shocked onlookers exclaiming “What the hell just happened?”, he didn’t let her retreat too far. When they were about half an arm’s length apart, he suddenly raised his hand and gripped her wrist. With a slight use of force, she stumbled and fell back into his embrace!
“Wei Zhi.”
His voice was cool but with a barely detectable hint of huskiness.
“You started it.”
He lowered his eyes, the corner of his lips showing a trace of a smile after the initial shock dissipated. Finishing this sentence slowly, under everyone’s gaze, he lowered his head and kissed her pale lips.
The laughter in his dark pupils grew deeper, his fingers gripping her wrist almost leaving red marks on her soft skin…
His palm was scorching hot and powerful.
However, in contrast, his kiss was exceptionally gentle.
As their breaths intermingled, he deepened the kiss. His tongue parted her slightly open lips and teeth, devouring and entangling with that hint of mint-infused peach flavor on her lips that he had long imagined.