The live stream lasted until past ten at night. During the stream, all the viewers watched Beijiao folding clothes, cooking, washing dishes, and mopping the floor. Eventually, everyone imagined the Olympic champion four years from now getting tired and inviting friends (mainly his “friend,” his boyfriend) to the stream to witness the exemplary young man of the new era.
Until the young man yawned on stream, tearfully asking his girlfriend if she wanted to sleep, offering to go upstairs first to warm the bed.
The chat exploded with “sleep,” “sleep,” “sleep,” “you two have such a big villa, yet you’re squeezing into one bed—is there not enough space?” “Now that you mention it, I’m not sleepy anymore”…
They were all adults, and Jiang Ran perfectly understood what they were implying. She then announced in a serious tone, “We’re just sleeping under the covers. We’ve been together for so long, it’s already the stage where left hand knows the right hand too well.”
Then, the dog on the sofa behind her yawned for the second time. He spoke faster than anyone typing in the chat, tears naturally forming at the corners of his eyes. Blinking, he said, “Is that true? I don’t believe you.”
Jiang Ran watched helplessly as “haha,” “hahaha,” and “hahahahaha” flooded the screen.
She ended the live stream.
As soon as she put her phone down, an arm reached over and dragged her from the lower part of the sofa to the upper part. The strength was so great it was as if the person who had just yawned and slouched on the sofa was someone else entirely. The next moment, a warm, dry hand lifted the hem of her hoodie.
Jiang Ran slapped his hand away. “What are you doing?”
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pecked her soft cheek, and said seriously, “I’m just touching my right hand, what’s wrong with that?”
Jiang Ran pulled his hand out with a blank expression.
Then she was pushed onto the sofa.
As he squeezed close to her, she stepped on his shoulders with her feet. “Didn’t you say you were tired from practicing 720s?” she asked. “Can you still manage?”
A man can never say he can’t.
He acted like a real big dog, making a soft sound as he collapsed onto her chest, nuzzling up her neck. When she didn’t react, he made another sound and kept nuzzling. “When will my 720s finally pay off? I’m sore all over from falling.”
While complaining about being sore, he was still agile enough to wrap her legs around his waist. Her dress slid to her waist as he bit her earlobe.
The moon hung brightly in the sky, and the lights inside made Jiang Ran feel like it was broad daylight again.
His kisses climbed up her face in scattered pieces. Jiang Ran turned her face away, breathing unevenly as she asked, “You’re really not tired?”
He said he was tired.
Then he lifted her into his arms—Jiang Ran let out a soft cry, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck, thinking he had regained some sense and would go to the bedroom to fool around…
But instead, he sat back down, leaning against the sofa, placing her on his lap—she straddled him. He pinched her waist. “So, occasionally, you have to show a bit of dedication.”
Jiang Ran twisted her waist expressionlessly, and he let out a soft “Mmm,” with a look like he was about to die.
She hooked her finger under his chin. “Is this how you treat your top donor?”
Beijiao was nearly driven crazy by her. At this point, his mind was a mess, unable to think clearly. One hand tugged at the hem of her skirt. “What top donor?”
Jiang Ran showed him the donations from tonight’s stream. The top donor wasn’t the club owner who had sent over a dozen fireworks, but “BC&GRAY Big Ranran.” Beijiao carefully counted the zeros behind the donation amount, and his pupils trembled.
“I never thought it was pitiful that I wore a polar bear headgear and handed out flyers for 120 yuan a day on 40-degree days,” he said, holding her waist and forcing her to lie on top of him, burying his face in her neck. “…But now I suddenly feel really sorry for my past self, wuwuwu!”
Before Jiang Ran could say anything, she suddenly felt the world spinning, and she was pressed back onto the sofa, returning to the position where Beijiao was on top.
Before she could react, her dress was pulled off.
“What are you doing?”
Her voice was somewhat hoarse.
“Serving the top donor.” Beijiao muttered, “Tell me if it’s too hard or too soft. I’ll adjust the service quality accordingly. Welcome back next time.”
He leaned down.
After the Spring Festival, when they returned to Songbei Ski Resort, on the day they were pasting couplets, Beijiao brought back a small bowl of goldfish from somewhere. The goldfish were placed on the coffee table in the living room—one white with a red head, the other pitch black, both with long tails, strong and resilient.
Perhaps they were hungry, as they surfaced now.
The goldfish tails swept across the water, leaving ripples. The water trembled, the sound of the tails growing louder as the fish swam…
Eventually, possibly out of frustration from hunger, one of the goldfish gave a strong tail flick, splashing water onto the sofa.
On the dark sofa, water droplets slid along the edge of the leather. Jiang Ran, dazed, looked up in surprise and tried to sit up to find tissues to wipe it off—
But was pushed back down, her cheeks flushed. The young man with black hair had bright eyes. He pursed his lips, his tongue licking the moisture from his lips. “What’s the rush? I’ll handle it later.”
Jiang Ran angrily kicked him.
He casually leaned back—
As he fell, he didn’t forget to pull Jiang Ran with him. They were like a seesaw—when he fell back, she was pulled up to sit, returning to the original position of straddling him.
She looked down at him, asking what new trick he was up to.
Beijiao reached out and held her waist, blinking. “Top donor, eat me.”
The goldfish crowded and leapt out of the water. Amid the splashing sounds, the two fish squeezed into the same corner of the wide fish tank, their long tails overlapping, white against black, indistinguishable.
The white goldfish pressed on top of the black one, sweeping its tail over the black fish. The black fish responded with trembling, nudging the white one above.
The water rippled outward, forming waves.
In the splashing water of the fish tank, Beijiao was right not to let Jiang Ran wipe the sofa…
After all, with two restless goldfish so restless, the sofa tonight was probably going to suffer for a while.
…
Early spring of 2022, the snow season came to an end with the successful conclusion of the Beijing Winter Olympics.
That year, China’s snowboarding made a name for itself on the world stage. The athletes’ leaps on the BIG AIR platform were like carp leaping through the dragon gate, transforming into golden dragons. The heavy thud of their snowboards hitting the ground upon landing etched snowboarding into the hearts of over a billion people across the country.
The commentators cheered, the live audience applauded enthusiastically, and international friends extended heartfelt and warm congratulations. At this sporting celebration, all witnessed the ascent of a once-developing nation in winter sports.
The Winter Olympics ended, but the enthusiasm of three hundred million people to embrace ice and snow did not fade. As the weather gradually warmed, people’s entertainment activities expanded beyond strolling the streets, drinking bubble tea, and watching movies to include a new option: “Hey, want to go skiing?”
Major snow parks rushed to renovate and expand their previously cramped and corner-occupied terrain parks. More and more parents brought their toddlers, barely up to their knees, onto snowboards, flapping and flying over the small jumps of the snow parks…
Long lines formed in the parks.
More and more people asked: “Long live the park, so when will carving stand up?”
Early in the 2023 snow season.
In October, when ski resorts in Xinjiang gradually opened, snowmaking preparations began at ski resorts across the country. Seasonal friends on social media started actively inviting each other to gather.
That evening, the club owner posted videos of the opening snow cannon and full-length rope tow snowmaking at the Songbei Ski Resort in Jilin. Jiang Ran was also packing her suitcase piece by piece, preparing to head to her first official points competition in her Olympic career.
As Jiang Ran placed her makeup bag, the puppy who was supposed to be studying in the study ran out “thudding,” throwing a professionally thick textbook as thick as a brick into her suitcase.
Jiang Ran: “?”
Beijiao: “The mentor I hooked up with asked me to read these books first. I thought I could finish this one during National Day and then write a report for him—”
Jiang Ran: “You’re going to Xinjiang?”
Beijiao: “? Didn’t you let me go?”
Jiang Ran: “What are you going there for?”
Beijiao: “What am I going there for? … What’s going on? Am I not fresh anymore because I’m not a male college student anymore?”
His tall figure swayed in front of the suitcase, then pressed down like a mountain… There was a suitcase between him and Jiang Ran. He placed his hands on his knees, staring expressionlessly at the woman across from him.
Five years was enough for the freshman who used to wash dishes in a small fly-infested restaurant to complete the transformation from a boy to a mature man. The last traces of softness in his features had vanished by this year, becoming increasingly sharp.
At this moment, the male creature in front of Jiang Ran already had all the characteristics of a mature male…
His open shirt collar revealed a hormonal aura emanating from his protruding Adam’s apple.
When he spoke in a low voice, the natural magnetism in his throat was fully activated.
Jiang Ran flared her nostrils slightly, blinking. “I need to be in good mental and physical condition every day for my competition.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the young man crouching across from her suitcase let out a soft laugh.
Jiang Ran tightly closed her mouth, a bit shy, but shyness clearly did not fit her character, so she raised her eyebrows. “What are you laughing at, acting all morally superior? Last night, who was it? Wasn’t it you? From the moment the sun set—”
She couldn’t continue, one more word and the green website would lock the article.
“I didn’t even finish eating properly!”
She said angrily.
Beijiao drew out a long “Oh” and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself in Xinjiang. Platonic—I won’t lay a finger on you.”
Jiang Ran glared at him distrustfully.
Beijiao shrugged. “Why are you glaring? I really didn’t plan to do anything last night at the dinner table. It was you who reacted like that… I’ll stay far away from you in Xinjiang, okay? Besides, if I really wanted to do something, what I would have thrown in wouldn’t be this book, but that thing.”
Jiang Ran: “?”
Beijiao: “A box, one by one, needs to be shaken out before use—”
Jiang Ran slammed the suitcase shut, interrupting his nonsense.
…
October 3, 2023, Altay, Xinjiang.
While most southern regions of China were still experiencing the summer heat, complaining about the “autumn tiger” not leaving, Altay in Xinjiang had already begun to see heavy snowfall.
The FIS Snowboard Parallel Giant Slalom World Cup & Milan Winter Olympics qualifying competition kicked off here.
This was the starting gun for the next Winter Olympics after the successful conclusion of the Beijing Winter Olympics. As a reward for the smooth and fair competition Beijing had hosted, the International Ski Federation specially set the first stop in Altay, Xinjiang, China.
Typically, the first qualifying competition was treated like submitting homework, with everyone hoping for a good start to kick off the three-year points race.
There were many participants, nearly 300 people, with top international snowboarders gathering together.
Except for some Nordic countries whose athletes couldn’t attend due to the long distance, Russia, being close by, nearly brought all the familiar faces from Chongli to greet Jiang Ran on the day of the competition—
Including Alyekslov.
After winning the gold medal at the Beijing Winter Olympics, he announced at the press conference the next day that he would continue to compete in the Milan Winter Olympics, which would be his last Olympic Games.
Under the watchful gaze of the black-haired young man behind Jiang Ran, wearing a staff badge, Alyekslov shook hands with her.
He smiled and said he knew he would see her here, and he had been looking forward to this day for a long time.
When the mature man in his thirties walked away, the staff member standing behind Jiang Ran, with a mature appearance but childish eyes, said expressionlessly, “I’ve been looking forward to this day for a long time.”
“…It was just a casual greeting, a hope in the spirit of sportsmanship!” Jiang Ran turned around and pushed Beijiao away. “Wang Jiaming! Someone come take this dog away, who let him out to mess with my head!”
Beijiao clicked his tongue, looked ahead, and indeed saw the athletes gathering for the oath. The big wolf then walked away with his fluffy tail held high, looking proud and aloof.
Returning to Altay once again, the competition venue at Jiangjun Mountain Ski Resort claimed to follow the same standards as the Beijing Winter Olympics—
Standing in front of the familiar track, Jiang Ran felt like she had traveled back five years. Back then, she stood on the competition stage wearing the disguise of “a muddy dog” for a BC sticker that Lin Shuang had dreamed of.
Today, she stood in the same place again, on the same track, but not entirely for others anymore.
There might be expectations from her coach, the last wish of Lin Shuang, the admiration and smiles in Beijiao’s eyes—but more than anything, it was for herself.
The preparatory whistle blew. She lowered her stance, and in that moment, the skis became one with her, transforming into her warhorse galloping across the battlefield with golden armor and iron hooves.
In the qualifying round, Jiang Ran advanced to the round of 32 without any suspense, securing fifth place among the women with a time of 39.87 seconds. At first glance, it might not seem much better than the 39.77 seconds she achieved years ago in Chongli under the guidance of Alekseev. However, as she crossed the finish line and bent down to remove her bindings, Wang Jiaming approached from a distance, stood quietly for two seconds, then said with satisfaction, “Good. Your face isn’t flushed, and you’re not even out of breath… Do you remember how you collapsed to your knees back then in Chongli for that result?”
A year later, achieving the same result without even trying hard.
“Just get top three,” Wang Jiaming said. “No need to push yourself so hard.”
Jiang Ran waved her hand and said she understood.
…
Everything went smoothly until the round of 16, the one-eighth finals. In the previous round, the Russian team unfortunately drew against their own teammates. Whether it was to encourage the younger generation or because Russia truly had a new dark horse, the result was that their top seed was defeated by a young rookie.
In the final eight, only one Russian female competitor remained. This new Russian rookie faced off against the champion of the women’s parallel giant slalom snowboard event at the Beijing Winter Olympics.
Jiang Ran was set to compete against a Finnish female athlete in her thirties, no longer young, and treating the Milan Winter Olympics as her final farewell to her professional career, making her especially determined.
Unfortunately, shortly before Jiang Ran’s race began, heavy snow started falling from the sky. Within a short lunchtime period, the snow conditions on the course had deteriorated significantly.
Before the race, Alekseev found Jiang Ran and showed her a video—most likely from a few years ago when he raced on similarly poor snow conditions. While other riders either veered off course, fell, or were stopped by the snow, he completed the race successfully with a decent result.
In the video, his riding style was completely different from usual—he kept the edge angle of his board very low, allowing the board to float mostly over the snow bumps.
He bent his legs significantly. While other riders desperately shuffled their feet, his legs, bent deeply, barely showed any shaking… His hips nearly sat on his back leg, and his body moved up and down dramatically, so much that even a beginner could notice.
Though his speed wasn’t as fast, his ride remained very stable.
Because of the language barrier, after showing the video, Alekseev didn’t say much else to Jiang Ran. He simply brought her board over and placed it on the ground, then used his hands to demonstrate the change from basic riding technique to the technique suitable for poor snow conditions—
The change wasn’t big, just adding some details to handle the bad snow on top of the original riding style.
[Good teacher.]
Jiang Ran smiled and expressed her gratitude.
[So I guess I can be considered your teacher. If you win the Milan Winter Olympics, you should thank me.] Alekseev joked. [Though I probably shouldn’t say that, my national team coach might get upset.]
They both laughed. At the table behind them, Bei Jiao, as part of the support staff, silently scooped the leftover food Jiang Ran hadn’t finished into his own bowl and decisively shoveled it into his mouth.
Then, in a second, he made up his mind—he was going to learn Russian.
After all, if his girlfriend needed to “communicate” with Russians, shouldn’t he find a way to help them “chat happily”?
…
At one o’clock in the afternoon, it was finally time for Jiang Ran’s race.
The snow hadn’t stopped. Standing at the starting platform, visibility was less than three meters. She was even worried whether the race monitoring equipment would function properly.
The good thing about a heavy snowfall was the lack of wind. Despite the poor snow conditions, the athletes at least didn’t have to deal with strong winds.
Jiang Ran pulled down her goggles, slightly narrowing her eyes as she looked toward the adjacent course. The Finnish rider was already in position. She threw her snowboard onto the snow surface, kicking up a cloud of snow dust, the board’s edge flashing cold light.
The edges needed regular sharpening, and clearly hers had just been sharpened.
After a while, Jiang Ran turned her gaze back. At that moment, the race’s starting whistle sounded. She took a deep breath, inhaling the cold snow-laden air, and her wildly beating heart calmed slightly—
From here on out, it would be a tough battle.
She was well aware.
As the timer started, she shot forward like a sword drawn from its sheath, leaping into the blizzard in a red blur.
On the first three gates with relatively smooth snow, she accelerated furiously, maintaining her initial speed. On the adjacent course, barely visible through the snow, she could see a blue-clad figure keeping pace with her.
Soon, as their speed increased, amidst the swirling snow and dust, the opponent disappeared from her peripheral vision.
Jiang Ran counted the gates, noticing that even the race commentary had paused due to the low visibility—
She could only hear her own heavy breathing.
As she felt the increasing bumps underfoot, her body movements became more intense. When she almost felt like she was riding through backcountry powder, she suddenly heard a loud crash as someone hit a pole—
Then, a figure shot sideways from the adjacent course like a cannonball!
Jiang Ran didn’t even have time to react to what was happening when the opponent had already come flying sideways, board and all!
With a loud “crack,” the immense impact, combined with the slope of the course, caused her to instinctively spread her arms and catch the flying rider from the adjacent course. The collision sent both of them flying off together!
…
After a loud “crunch,” the scene fell silent for a few seconds before descending into chaos.
“Oh my god, they collided!”
“What the hell was that noise? It scared the hell out of me!”
“Where are the people? Somebody check on them!”
“With this much snow, the race should have been postponed! I suggested stopping it just now, but those foreigners from the International Ski Federation acted like they couldn’t understand English and completely ignored me! I knew something like this would happen!”
“Who’s competing now—oh no, it’s Jiang Ran! If anything happens to her, I’m going to fight them all!”
After a minute passed.
Staff members came down from above to look for people and approached the coaching area, calling Wang Jiaming’s name and asking the coach to come up and check. They said the blue-course rider had been hit by the red-course rider who slid off the track, and the impact was quite severe. They needed to confirm the rider’s condition.
The staff called for Wang Jiaming, but two people stood up at once.
Both had grim expressions and immediately tried to climb over the barrier toward the course. The staff held back the one wearing only a regular staff badge, saying, “Only the coach can go up. Visibility is too poor now. If there are injured people, we need to use the snowmobiles. Too many people going up will prevent us from moving.”
Bei Jiao clearly didn’t want to listen, pretending not to understand Chinese. He coldly glanced at the staff member and tried to rush directly onto the course.
Three or four staff members couldn’t hold him back.
Finally, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID and answered instantly.
Jiang Ran’s voice came through the phone, cheerful and full of energy: “I’m fine, don’t worry. That girl hit me, and we both flew out together. They called Wang Jiaming up because my board got stuck in the guardrail and snapped completely. They need to bring up a spare board.”
Her voice was calm and steady.
Only then did Bei Jiao stop in his tracks, frowning: “Your board broke?”
“Yeah, just the board. Be good and don’t cause trouble,” Jiang Ran said. “Ah, the staff is coming to collect my board. I’ll talk to you later.”
With that, she hung up.
Later, Bei Jiao confirmed with the staff that it was indeed just the board that broke. Wang Jiaming took a new board up to the course and sent Bei Jiao a video. In the video, Jiang Ran was sitting to the side holding a thermos. Apart from a tear in her snow pants, she looked completely fine.
“They said you can withdraw and be advanced to ninth place, or you can choose to continue the race. Do you want to keep going?” In the video, Wang Jiaming’s voice asked off-camera. “Actually, ninth is okay.”
But ninth place barely earned any points.
And due to pandemic-related policies, traveling abroad and returning home—even with special approval—was a long and difficult process. Every domestic competition was important, one by one.
“Continue.”
Her fingers, gripping the thermos, turned slightly pale.
But the moment Wang Jiaming finished speaking, she replied without hesitation, “I’m fine. I might have twisted something, but I can still ride. I came all this way. Let me finish the race.”
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