AJu had just separated his chopsticks and had not even taken a bite when he saw Beijiao, who had just gone to look for Qiunian, rushing back. As soon as he looked up, a line of dialogue flashed through his mind: “Look at that guy; he looks like a dog!”
He ran so fast that AJu wouldn’t have doubted for a second that Beijiao truly wished he could run on all fours. Like a gust of wind, Beijiao rushed back to the table, holding a transparent takeout box. Without saying a word, he opened the lid and began pouring his portion of food into the box.
AJu: “?”
AJu: “Where’s Qiunian?”
“I don’t know, didn’t see her. She can’t have been taken by aliens; the restaurant isn’t that big!”
Beijiao shook the empty bowl in his hand and looked up at AJu. Under AJu’s curious gaze, his unfocused eyes regained a bit of clarity. He suddenly pressed his lips together and, in a tone usually reserved for farewells, said, “Jiang Ran is back.”
AJu responded with a casual “Oh.” Jiang Ran had been reporting to their group chat throughout her journey from the quarantine hotel to disembarking the plane, so he naturally knew she was back. Originally, he had even planned to tell Beijiao about it when they headed down the mountain today.
Thinking about this, he paused and asked, “How did you know she’s back?”
“She came up the mountain. I saw her at the entrance just now.” Beijiao closed the takeout box and, like someone with fire under his butt, said, “I’m leaving.”
“Is it really that scary? By the way, Zhao Keyan told me you did something good for her. I haven’t had the chance to ask you about it yet—looks like that good deed wasn’t just any ordinary one…”
As AJu spoke, he seemed to realize something terrible himself and fell silent for a moment.
“You didn’t, right?” he asked incredulously.
“Of course not. Don’t look at me like I’m your father-in-law scolding me.”
Beijiao had already finished packing his food for the day. Holding the plastic bag, he assumed a posture ready to flee at any moment.
AJu: “Go on, go on, go on! Oh well, you even remembered to pack food before leaving.”
“I’m hungry!”
This was the last sentence Beijiao left behind, filled with a tone of grievance and anger.
…
At the same time Beijiao rushed out the door, on the other side of the cafeteria, Jiang Ran had just picked up a steaming bowl of wontons from the serving window.
Jiang Ran had indeed just gotten off the plane. She had returned home, dropped her suitcase, grabbed her snow pass, and come up the mountain. She joined a group of people carrying snowboards heading up the mountain, and many mistook her for a pure tourist who had come up to take pictures.
She had been invited to come up the mountain for a meal by a friend from Chongli who had fled to Jilin.
Jiang Ran didn’t know many people in Chongli—
It was indeed strange, although the snowboarding circle was small enough that you’d always run into the same people, those from Chongli and Jilin barely interacted. From clubs to technical exchange WeChat groups, their circles only slightly overlapped.
When it came to one or two well-known figures, everyone knew them. But if you hadn’t spent summers together in the same Sunac “big fridge,” you might not even have the most basic WeChat contact.
Jiang Ran especially valued the first-hand gossip about the snowboarding scene in the other region that her one or two friends from Chongli brought her. So when her female friend invited her up the mountain, she complained a bit but still actually went.
She didn’t see Beijiao. When she walked out holding her bowl of wontons, she only managed to catch sight of Qiunian and Li Xingnan.
According to her information, these two had been continuously arguing when she boarded her flight that morning. But now, surprisingly, they were sitting at the same table having a meal together—
They had made up, but not completely.
To be precise, they were eating while still arguing.
“Li Xingnan, don’t think this is over. Anyway, Lin Shuang isn’t here anymore; you can say whatever you want. I believe you? Like hell I do! You grew up with her, from kindergarten to high school. Fine, but even after you’ve grown up, you didn’t even try to prove if you’re a real man or not!”
Her scolding became more absurd as she went on, and the final lines were too shameful to even include punctuation.
Li Xingnan, to his credit, had a strong mental game. He held up his chopsticks and picked up a bite of shredded pork in garlic sauce, extending it toward Qiunian’s mouth. “Eat first.”
“I won’t eat! Take it away!”
Qiunian angrily turned her head away.
Li Xingnan was already well-known in the circle. If he participated in a competition, people would say, “Wow, this competition must be high-level since Li Xingnan is here.” Over the years, he and Qiunian had been inseparable, and their gossip was minimal. Everyone knew this big shot was in A2, and perhaps his wife was waiting for him at the transfer station at the foot of A2.
Witnessing this perpetually understated VIP tenderly holding his chopsticks to coax his girlfriend into eating, onlookers couldn’t resist teasing them about already exuding the sweet rapport of an old married couple.
Li Xingnan couldn’t even force a smile—he’d rather not have this kind of “romantic” gesture.
“Go away!” At this point, Qiunian pushed him away reflexively and touched her lips. “You’re so annoying to look at!”
Thinking back to what had happened in the restroom, she felt dizzy and couldn’t imagine he could do something so absurd. Aren’t men supposed to be calm as they age? How many days had passed since he last restrained himself!
For a moment, she almost thought she would be the first person to be killed by a man’s throat-poking!
Her lip was split!
And he still wanted her to eat. Eat what? It must hurt so much, right?
Qiunian grew angrier, raised her hand, and with a fierce motion slapped the man’s hand away. “Pah!” His chopsticks fell back into the bowl, making a second soft sound.
Qiunian herself paused for a moment, instinctively glancing warily at the man across from her—then realized what she was doing! She was angry! She had every right to be! Why should she be afraid of him!
And this time, Li Xingnan was also considerate enough not to scold her. He picked up his chopsticks, thought for a moment, and tapped the edge of the bowl. “I really don’t want to discuss this topic with you.”
“What topic!” Qiunian asked sharply. “Is it something children shouldn’t hear?”
“When you needed me, why did you treat me like a child!”
This was happening in the dining hall, for goodness’ sake.
Jiang Ran, who was watching with fascination while holding her bowl of wontons nearby and didn’t want to leave, finally couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped forward with a chuckle and asked, “You two, can you please keep your voices down? This is a public area, not a deserted one?”
Hearing her voice, Qiunian grabbed onto this lifeline and turned her head with a “swoosh”: “You’re back? Why did you come up the mountain?”
Jiang Ran moved her lips but hadn’t had time to answer when Li Xingnan pinched Qiunian’s chin and turned her face back. “We haven’t finished talking yet.”
Qiunian scolded him: “What’s there to say! Do we even have anything to talk about! You’re so gross! You put your thing into other people’s mouths!”
Jiang Ran: “What thing?”
Li Xingnan: “It’s not like it’s the first time. Are you only now starting to feel offended?”
Qiunian: “…”
Jiang Ran: “What did he feed you?”
Li Xingnan remained expressionless, letting her scold him: “Ask AJu about what I said regarding Lin Shuang. Whether it’s true or not.”
Qiunian: “What matter? I just left for half a month, how come it feels like you’re all excluding me? Why can’t you discuss things in the group chat? I can participate too?”
Qiunian thought for a moment, then was left speechless with frustration. She turned her anger toward AJu and shouted, “You’re shameless too!” AJu was confused and felt completely caught in the crossfire.
“Ah!” Jiang Ran exclaimed. “What’s going on! Why are you speaking in riddles!”
Qiunian originally wanted to ignore Jiang Ran, but this young lady, who had just returned from abroad, was holding her bowl of wontons nearby, hopping around restlessly, glaring with confusion, and insisting on participating in this adult conversation she clearly couldn’t handle.
She had no choice but to endure and, taking a break from glaring at Li Xingnan, turned to coax her: “Hua Yan and the others are waiting for you, right? Why don’t you go eat with them first? I’ll tell you later. Your wontons will get cold—”
Jiang Ran: “No way! How can I eat with this curiosity burning inside me—”
Li Xingnan: “Tugou is also in Jilin.”
Jiang Ran’s voice stopped abruptly. She blinked her eyes in confusion.
“Go,” Li Xingnan said. “Hurry up and finish eating. Go home, get your board, and run around the mountains playing with dogs.”
Jiang Ran was in a daze, instinctively muttering, “I don’t want to see him,” while vaguely feeling tempted by the suggestion of “running around the mountains playing with dogs”—
It sounded as fun as chasing reindeer in the Greater Khingan Range forest.
Her focus had indeed strayed. Just then, her friend from Chongli poked her head out and called her from her seat. She didn’t react immediately and was actually called away.
The momentary silence in her ears, Qiunian glared at Li Xingnan, thinking how this person could manipulate people’s minds with just a few words! How annoying!
Li Xingnan pushed aside the rice with sauce he had been eating and stood up with a frown: “What are you doing! I want to eat!”
“It’s cold. What’s there to eat? I’ll go get you a bowl of clear noodle soup.” Li Xingnan stood up. “This one I’ll eat.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he left.
Qiunian glared at AJu: “Tell me what’s fair here. What a controlling freak!”
AJu had already finished his bowl of rice: “Tell Tugou. He’s the kind of guy who got scared just by looking at Jiang Ran and ran off. He might empathize with you… and then the two of you can cry together?”
Qiunian: “…”
…
After lunch, Jiang Ran didn’t really rush to go catch dogs. She had gotten up early in the morning to catch her flight and now just wanted to go home and sleep.
After the commotion with Li Xingnan at lunch, Qiunian also didn’t feel like skiing anymore, so she decided to accompany Jiang Ran down the mountain.
The two didn’t take the cable car, preferring to be mischievous instead. With Li Xingnan disapprovingly watching, Qiunian strapped on her board at the top of A2, then turned around and opened her arms: “Come on, big sis, let me take you down A2.”
Jiang Ran was delighted and happily rushed forward to hug Qiunian’s waist. With practiced ease, she stepped onto the front and back bindings of the snowboard, and the two merged into one on the board.
Qiunian wrapped her arms around Jiang Ran’s waist and moved the board toward the slope. They pushed themselves down the steepest part of the slope, then shakily changed edges.
A slope that she could normally descend with her eyes closed, even performing a few flatland tricks along the way, now had a bit of an exciting edge to it—
Jiang Ran hugged Qiunian’s waist, screaming and laughing out loud. Qiunian looked up and saw Li Xingnan following behind them with his hands behind his back, frowning.
She ignored him, even taking the chance to pinch Jiang Ran’s face and whisper, “How did you do in the competition? You never told me?”
Jiang Ran smiled.
At this point, they had passed the steepest part and arrived at the lower section of A2. Today the ski resort was quiet, but this place was still crowded—
Coincidentally, someone from the circle was carving down the slope past them. Looking up, he first saw Li Xingnan and called out, “Nian Nian, what are you doing?” Then he turned his head and saw Nian Nian’s girlfriend, hugging a girl not wearing a ski suit, both sliding down on a single snowboard.
Oh, he was on surveillance duty.
Watching his wife flirt.
The passerby was amused and called out, “Nian Nian!” At this moment, the two on the snowboard simultaneously turned their heads. When he saw the face of the woman in the down jacket, who was so out of place among everyone else, his head “buzzed”: “Ran Jie?”
The woman called by name smiled and responded.
“You just came back from Finland? Oh my, you managed to go abroad at a time like this. I heard from my Liaoning team friend that you got third place over there? The Heilongjiang team coach was so happy, he was beaming with pride!”
This passerby had said everything that should and shouldn’t have been said. Jiang Ran was momentarily stunned, then realized the passerby had answered Qiunian’s question for her. Then the passerby happily skied away.
She looked up and saw Qiunian staring at her, eyes slightly narrowing: “Third place, huh?”
“Mm,” Jiang Ran smiled faintly, casually attributing her recent efforts to a single sentence, “I was just lucky. The Nordic countries might just be my lucky place.”
The idea of seriously pursuing hard boots and competition boards, and joining a professional league, had taken shape on a night without auroras in Iceland several years ago.
Now, after several years, in the most difficult of times, by a twist of fate on the same land, she had finally stepped onto the professional path.
“Third place! Our Ranran is so capable, third place in the World Cup! Nie Xin must be regretting not grabbing you in the Sunac ‘big fridge’ earlier. Otherwise, you’d already be in Chongli now.” Qiunian sighed, “If you could win a medal at the Beijing Winter Olympics, that would be so great… Lin Shuang would be so happy from beyond the grave.”
As she spoke, her eyes behind the goggles began to redden.
Her voice was choked with emotion.
Jiang Ran was about to say something when Li Xingnan leaned in and coldly said, “If you’re going to cry, go cry on the transfer station cable car. Don’t cry while skiing; isn’t that dangerous?”
“…Go to hell! There’s just no talking to you men!” Qiunian roared at him, hugging Jiang Ran’s waist. “Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!”
…
Jiang Ran returned to her villa, quickly washed up, and climbed into bed.
Her phone kept ringing incessantly. These were all messages from people who had heard she had just returned from an overseas competition, landed in Jilin today, and were coming to greet her one after another.
Jiang Ran replied to each of them. Finally, she scrolled down her phone screen for a while but couldn’t find that impolite dog’s message. Then she thought carefully about what she wanted to do with him.
To scold him?
For what reason?
It had been nearly a month since that day in the back alley of the bar.
She vaguely recalled: Oh, she needed to get her postcards back.
Letting out a yawn, Jiang Ran felt that this matter wasn’t urgent. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
She had a dream. She slept deeply and rarely dreamed, unless she was truly exhausted, then she would dream… or if something in reality was too unforgettable, it had to be rehearsed over and over again in her dreams.
Jiang Ran found herself back in Finland in her dream. In reality, the trip was far more complicated than the casual way she told others that she had just participated in a competition. This event was not an ordinary points race; it was the last major points competition before the Winter Olympics, one that many athletes could attend to secure their Olympic qualification.
Nations not traditionally strong in winter sports were scrambling to fill their quota of participants, while traditional winter sports powerhouses were fiercely competing internally for the limited Olympic spots. Everyone knew the competition would be brutally intense even before it started.
At this World Cup station so far north in Scandinavia, given the scarce flights and the pandemic situation at the time, the presence of Asian athletes was something of a surprise.
Before the competition began, Jiang Ran sat with Chun in the lounge. This time Nie Xin had brought only the two girls and the two best male provincial team members. Their snow gear and jackets, provided by the provincial team, were placed aside. As Jiang Ran sipped hot water from a cup, she was already thinking about what she would eat when she returned—strict diet control before the competition meant no random takeout, for fear of ingesting any banned substances. She had been eating healthy food so much that she felt like her eyes were turning green.
She could feel other skaters from different countries whispering about her nearby. They weren’t even speaking English, but she just knew they were talking about her.
“What are they saying?” Chun whispered, “Why do I feel like they’re gossiping about us?”
“You’re not wrong.”
Jiang Ran replied calmly with a blank expression, thinking this scene was eerily familiar. Back then, Lin Shuang used to tug at her sleeve like a little chick and ask her to translate, then after Jiang translated, she would get so mad she’d want to yell back in Northeastern dialect.
Thinking about it, Jiang suddenly turned her head sharply, her eyes flashing with intensity, which startled them again.
A tall, pretty girl who looked like she could walk a fashion runway if she weren’t skiing smiled at her and asked, “Korea? Japan?”
Look at that, they didn’t even include China in their guessing game.
Chun said, “Go to hell, you’re the Korean!”
Jiang Ran burst out laughing, because Chun sounded exactly like someone had just insulted her.
Just then, a staff member announced it was time to get ready. Jiang casually grabbed the jacket beside her, shook it out, slipped into one sleeve, and pointed to the five-star red flag on the sleeve to show Chun.
The girls were silent for a few seconds. The one who had spoken first widened her eyes slightly and said, “Oh”—a relatively friendly reaction, almost as if she felt a bit embarrassed for not having considered China in her previous guess.
But behind her stood a girl with freckles, probably not very old, with messy light brown hair, who gave no sign of friendliness. Her eyes flickered with disdain. She turned to her companion and giggled, saying, “China,” in a tone that was purely declarative.
Isn’t that amazing? Despite the language barrier and limited English vocabulary, just by looking at her expression and tone, you could tell she was trying to provoke.
If Jiang Ran had even a little better English, she would have grabbed the girl by the collar and asked, “What’s wrong, are you allergic to red? Why so sarcastic?” But she didn’t. Because this girl looked no older than eighteen, might not have received proper English education, and Jiang Ran couldn’t even identify the language she was speaking.
Chun whispered, “Sis, I want to beat her up.”
Jiang Ran replied, “Don’t. She won’t understand Chinese anyway.”
Chun said, “She might not understand words, but she’ll understand fists. My fists are pretty hard now.”
Jiang Ran warned, “If you get arrested, we’ll have to call the embassy to bail you out. Then you’ll end up trending on Weibo, dear.”
Trending wasn’t something she really wanted, although it wouldn’t necessarily be negative either.
Chun gave up, and at that moment, the first round started. Not only Chun, but even Jiang Ran was holding back her anger, thinking about how satisfying it would be to slap them back in their place—however, some things shouldn’t be overthought, because overthinking often leads to mistakes.
Since the number of participants was small, the first round was an elimination system. Jiang Ran’s first opponent was an American with black hair, whose name she had already forgotten.
Anyway, her first run wasn’t great. Probably because she hadn’t had much chance to train on actual snow here. The gate spacing, slope gradient, or length were all unfamiliar to her.
At the penultimate gate, Jiang Ran nearly got thrown off but managed to steady herself by touching the ground with her hand—although carving often involves a low posture with one hand touching snow, in official parallel giant slalom competitions, competitors don’t necessarily go that low. Often, they only pursue speed, and their body folds aren’t as deep as in recreational skiing.
Therefore, in competitions, it’s rare for athletes to touch the snow. Usually, when this happens, it’s a sign of losing control and trying to slow down.
After finishing her first run, Jiang Ran felt her heart still pounding. When she looked back at the timer, she realized her performance was truly unimpressive, maybe only a quarter of her usual level. In training, it might have been acceptable, but in a competition setting where every detail was scrutinized, the difference was like night and day!
Luckily, her American opponent on the same track performed even worse. Despite Jiang Ran’s poor performance, she still beat the American by a gate!
After the first round, Jiang Ran felt her legs trembling, frightened.
She caught her breath while unbuckling her bindings, her mind buzzing.
Nie Xin rushed over and patted her shoulder, “Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous. You did okay, okay.”
Jiang Ran was about to say something when the girl with light brown hair passed by after finishing her run. She looked Jiang Ran up and down, glanced at the timer and past results behind her, and smirked.
She turned to her companion, smiled, and quickly said something in her native language, which no one could understand, except that she repeated the word “China.”
Nie Xin heard it and asked, “What did that girl say? Was she talking about us?”
Jiang Ran rolled up her jacket sleeve, “Yes. Just don’t let me race against her.”
…
And yet, the world is full of such coincidences.
In the next round, Jiang Ran really did end up racing against her.
There were only so many participants. In a 32-to-16 elimination round, with a one-in-sixteen chance, Jiang Ran ended up facing her.
Board in hand, she stood at the starting platform, unfastened her bindings and placed her board at her feet. The girl with light brown hair came up too, chewing gum in her mouth. When she looked up and saw Jiang Ran, she first looked surprised, then blew her a bubble.
Jiang Ran calmly turned her head away. She was at least eight years older than this girl, and she wouldn’t stoop to her level.
The starting whistle blew. Jiang Ran leaned on the starting pole and lowered her upper body slightly—an adjustment posture.
Jiang Ran had a strength: no matter how unfamiliar the snow track or gates were, she could quickly adapt, accurately remember the route from the first run, and optimize her adjustments.
Now scanning the snow tracks on the ground, she calculated her plan. When the whistle blew again, she took a deep breath and shot off like an arrow from a bow!
Unlike the cautious route she took in the first run, this time she was confident!
Her snowboard cut steadily into the snow. Due to the high speed, snow sprayed high from the bottom of the board!
There were no spectators, but there should have been media coverage. She vaguely heard the commentator’s astonished voice, but it felt very distant—her eyes were only focused on the next gate and the upcoming route!
Her body folded and leaned at the most suitable angle, controlling the route through the gates to the minimum. Around the second gate after the midpoint timer, Jiang Ran caught sight of her rival on the adjacent track gradually disappearing from her peripheral vision!
She didn’t slow down—she sped up even more!
The wind howled past her ears, while her heartbeat remained calm and steady, like a still pond.
The commentator’s cheers, the surprised shouts, Nie Xin yelling something at the finish line, and Chun standing beside Nie Xin, wearing the team jacket and looking up eagerly waiting for her—she passed the final gate, straightened her board, and crossed the finish line first!
“Good! Good! Good!”
“Sister Wandou, that was an amazing run! The commentator almost lost it!”
Nie Xin and Chun rushed over and gave her a big hug each. Nie Xin squeezed her so tightly, it felt like she had already won first place, almost breaking Jiang Ran’s waist!
It took her a while to recover from their excitement before she could finally check her result. The track length and number of gates were almost the same as at the Beijing Winter Olympics. The slope was slightly steeper, and she clocked in at 43.27 seconds.
Later, when the official parallel giant slalom women’s competition started at the Beijing Winter Olympics, they realized that, ignoring the difference in slope steepness, this result alone would have ranked her fifth in her group during the 32-qualifier round.
But that’s another story for another time.
At that moment, completely unaware of such implications, Jiang Ran bent down to unbuckle her bindings, “The girl next to me skied pretty fast. No wonder she was so arrogant.”
“I asked,” Nie Xin said, “She’s from Iceland. She’s fast, probably going to the Olympics. She must be here to secure her points.”
And then what?
She was eliminated by Jiang Ran in the 32-to-16 round of the World Cup.
“She’ll probably have to compete in another World Cup round.”
Jiang Ran waved her hand.
Turning around, she noticed the girl standing at the finish line with her board, still looking up at the timer and replay screen, seemingly unable to believe what had just happened.
Jiang Ran thought for a moment and walked over.
The girl turned around, her eyes flickering as she looked at Jiang Ran, then at the national flag on her team jacket sleeve. Her pale skin made her flushed cheeks and freckles stand out vividly.
Jiang Ran smiled at her, gently reached out, and adjusted the girl’s collar that had gotten messy during the race, saying, “China.”
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