In March, the brief snow season in the Northern Hemisphere had not yet ended. Chongli had just experienced heavy snowfall, and snow enthusiasts’ social media feeds were once again filled with images of the white landscape.
Across the ocean, a grand event celebrating winter sports was in full swing—the X Games World Extreme Sports Competition. This pinnacle event in extreme sports is divided into summer and winter series, featuring dozens of disciplines including rock climbing, paragliding, skateboarding, and skiing. In the eyes of extreme sports enthusiasts, its prestige even surpasses that of the more widely recognized Olympic Games.
Consequently, the annual X Games attracts top athletes from various extreme sports disciplines worldwide. This year, despite the global pandemic causing a slight delay, the winter series of this extreme sports extravaganza commenced as scheduled on March 14th.
In China, due to differences in traditional sports strengths and cultural atmosphere, winter sports competitions rarely garnered much attention. Those who followed the X Games were even rarer. However, this year, thanks to the “300 Million People on Ice and Snow” initiative, skiing has become incredibly popular.
As a result, a live broadcast of the event appeared on a certain short video platform’s Olympic-related public account channel. The livestream attracted three to four thousand viewers, mostly snow sports enthusiasts who couldn’t sleep and were killing time. They chatted idly in the comments, wildly speculating about this year’s dark horses in freestyle skiing and snowboarding events.
They discussed who had retired, who was injured, who had changed nationalities, and who had switched disciplines. Most of the names mentioned were foreigners, as the casual conversation was filled with gossip and irresponsible predictions about the competition.
At that moment, the camera focused on the Snowboard Big Air event venue. The competition, inexplicably scheduled for nighttime, was brilliantly illuminated. The professional venue resembled a bowl, with a specialized freestyle skiing big air jump track, starting platform, jump, landing area, and buffer zone.
Spectators sat around the edge of the bowl, filling the stands that could accommodate tens of thousands. Flags from various countries and sponsor logos fluttered in the air. Someone started singing, and soon everyone joined in the chant. Winter sports were undoubtedly popular abroad, and extreme sports enthusiasts were naturally passionate. The atmosphere was incredibly lively, with people screaming the names of their favorite athletes.
The livestream chat, however, remained relatively calm. The commentator monotonously introduced the current athlete, stating their country of origin, describing their takeoff, jump, and the trick they performed. Most viewers were starting to doze off.
As midnight approached, after a Canadian athlete completed an unremarkable flat spin 1440 and landed successfully, a tall figure appeared at the starting platform.
“Alright, Bill Roget has completed his first round with a steady performance. We’re now past the halfway point of the first round, and John Houston from North America still leads with a backside cork 2160 mute. Next up is—wait, who’s this?”
A man appeared at the starting platform. Being Asian, he seemed less noticeable among the predominantly European and American athletes. He wore all-black snow gear, almost blending in with the staff members.
However, as the camera zoomed in, sweeping past him as he bent down to fasten his bindings at the edge of the platform, the red five-starred flag on his sleeve and helmet stood out vividly against the night.
The commentator paused for three seconds.
“The next athlete is from China—oh, we have someone in this competition? Let’s see, the athlete from China is… Chongshan.”
The commentator, being straightforward, pronounced the pinyin name that appeared in the lower left corner of the screen.
In the broadcast, the man finished fastening his bindings and stood up straight. The camera zoomed in as he turned slightly, allowing viewers to see the light-colored mole on the side of his high-bridged nose, which seemed to move with his expression. He glanced expressionlessly at the camera, then raised his hand to lower his goggles.
The X Games livestream chat fell silent. Even the scrolling comments stopped. After a brief pause, someone typed a single “?”.
With the starting signal, the man on the platform bent down to adjust his bindings one last time, then set off.
In the live stream chat, comments flooded in like a tidal wave. The number of viewers suddenly skyrocketed as snow sports enthusiasts swarmed into the stream, frantically typing question marks, wondering if they were dreaming.
Black snow gear, a new Burton Custom board with a bright yellow base—as the man soared like a giant bird riding the wind, even the cheers from the venue seemed to disappear.
He traced a perfect parabola in the air as he jumped. His back arched like a bow, folding as he grabbed his board. With the first rotation, the double cork movement had already taken shape.
“It should be a double cork. Currently, in both domestic and international competitions, the best top riders can achieve in training is a double cork 1980, with fewer than three people capable of doing it. And in competition, no one has yet—oh, Chongshan’s double cork 1440—1800—wow!”
Both commentators exclaimed in unison. At the venue, the announcer’s voice cracked as he shouted in excitement.
“1980! Double cork 1980!”
The commentator’s voice was deafening.
Amidst these shocked cries, everyone watched as the man completed a series of grabs and rotations, drawing closer and closer to the ground.
“Will he? Will he? The world’s first double cork 1980 in competition! Chongshan! After nearly three years, Chongshan has returned to the competition stage, witnessed by all snow sports enthusiasts!”
The black figure approached the ground.
With a loud “thud” that cut through the cheers, applause, screams, and foreign language commentary, the snowboard hit the ground heavily.
“He’s landed it!”
Knees slightly bent, the board’s front edge dug deep into the snow, kicking up a cloud of snow that momentarily obscured the camera’s view.
Three seconds later, the tall, black-clad figure emerged from the snow cloud, riding his board with calm composure.
The charm of extreme sports lies in the fact that who wins or which country they represent doesn’t matter, at least not to the spectators at the venue. They simply want to see an exciting competition.
After a brief silence, applause erupted, nearly tearing through the quiet night sky. In the bowl-shaped stands, thousands of spectators rose to their feet, cheering for the moment that had just broken the global record for difficulty in snowboard big air double cork tricks.
Amidst the thunderous applause and cheers, the man on the snowboard stopped his descent, bent down, and removed his board.
Holding his board, he straightened up and looked back at the competition stage behind him.
The bright venue lights shone like brilliant stars, turning night into day.
The king had awakened from his winter slumber, surveying his domain.
To this day, with decay stripped away, the once frost-covered throne still gleamed brightly.