Half an hour remained until Jiang Ran’s next round of competition. There was no wind at the summit, yet it was cold. All the other athletes had gone into the lounge, but Jiang Ran remained outside, staring blankly at the distant snow-capped mountains.
A breeze passed by, her long, black curly hair plaited into a braid, strands of hair fluttering in the wind, her nose slightly flushed red—perhaps from the cold or something else. At that moment, her pale cheeks appeared unnaturally white, giving her a unique kind of beauty, almost fragile and broken, reaching an entirely new level of beauty.
Slightly frowning, she seemed lost in gazing at the snow mountains until the head coach of the Finnish team appeared, breaking the brief stillness.
The Finnish athlete was preliminarily diagnosed with a fractured sternum and had already been taken away by a snowmobile. At that time, Jiang Ran was dragged away too. After confirming she was fine, able to walk independently, and still willing to compete, they sent her to the athletes’ lounge.
While spacing out, Jiang Ran was approached by the Finnish coach, who began apologizing profusely, though Jiang Ran didn’t seem to care much—what had happened couldn’t be undone, and apologies didn’t really matter at this point. Moreover, the Finnish athlete hadn’t done it on purpose, and her injuries were more severe.
Jiang Ran sat motionless for quite a while until Wang Jiaming brought a new board, which she checked and confirmed was fine. Only after setting the board down did she seem to snap back to reality and looked down at her phone.
There were already a pile of unread messages.
[My Ya: What’s going on now?]
[My Ya: Anywhere else uncomfortable? Where did she hit you?]
[My Ya: Tell me where you fell. Your board broke—how could you be completely fine? I can’t believe it even using my toes to think. Any chest tightness? Headache? Back pain?]
[My Ya: Ancestor, talk to me.]
[My Ya: Are you trying to kill me?]
[My Ya: If you’re really fine, can’t I come up to check on you?]
[My Ya: Your tone is way too lively.]
[My Ya: You dare to lie with such bad acting?]
[My Ya: If you don’t talk, I’ll come up and get you.]
[My Ya: Answer the call.]
Jiang Ran: “…”
The tone gradually turned serious and stern.
Five years ago, she thought she had picked up a little brother; five years later, she realized she had picked up a real father figure.
She just couldn’t understand how she had given herself away—could being too lively in tone really be a reason?
Although at the time, she indeed felt a bit nervous and guilty.
Just as Jiang Ran, looking serene, was about to put her phone down, Wang Jiaming, not far away, had just hung up a call. Initially, he was saying “Yes, yes,” “Okay, okay,” “I’m fine,” “Sure, sure,” which Jiang Ran assumed was a leader calling to check on her situation. But after he hung up, he let out a “Huh,” and looked at Jiang Ran: “A furious staff member says if you keep pretending to be dead, he’ll tear apart the podium to come up here and get you.”
Jiang Ran had no choice but to act, because she knew if Beijiao insisted on coming up, no few staff members could stop him—he was stubborn like a dog.
The biggest downside of being with someone for five years was that they understood each other too well—just a glance or a sentence could reveal something was off. Beijiao once said that if Jiang Ran were kidnapped, she should call him. He claimed he might figure out what was happening just by hearing her say “hello” and even help call the police—back then, she laughed and told him he was talking nonsense.
Now, it seemed to be true.
She set down her thermos and picked up her phone.
[Who’s My Darling Ya: ? I just looked away from my phone for a second!]
[Who’s My Darling Ya: Don’t imagine things. I’m fine. I’ll finish the last round soon, and then I’ll come down. Don’t cause trouble.]
[My Ya: It’s only the quarterfinals now. How do you know it’s your last round?]
[Who’s My Darling Ya: ………… For a first competition, this ranking is about right. Do you have to win first place?! Don’t talk to me in the same tone as Wang Jiaming!]
[My Ya: Don’t talk nonsense. You know that’s not what I mean.]
[My Ya: What’s wrong with your leg?]
After saying that, he probably got impatient with typing and called her. Jiang Ran answered. On the video call, the young man frowned, his brows furrowed tightly enough to trap a fly.
His expression was dark and unreadable; when he was serious, he exuded a certain kind of authority.
Five years had passed, and the dog had grown up—from a whiny little puppy into a wolf.
Jiang Ran obediently scanned the camera over herself to show him she was really fine: “See, I’m perfectly okay… Well, my foot actually hurts a bit, but it doesn’t hurt that much when I’m wearing my ski boots.”
Beijiao didn’t speak, but when he heard her say it hurt, his frown deepened.
Jiang Ran didn’t give him a chance to speak, as if determined to cut through the matter decisively: “So I was thinking I’d just do one more round. Whether I make it into the top four or not, I won’t continue after that… Will you be angry with me because of this?”
When she said this, her voice had a slight nasal quality, and at first hearing, one might mistake it for coquettishness.
But her eyes carefully observed the person on the other side of the screen.
A moment later, she saw Beijiao’s tense face relax slightly. He seemed to feel warm, taking off the thick jacket he was wearing, removing the staff badge and casually tossing it aside.
“Just one round.”
He said.
“I’ll meet you at the finish line.”
Brief and to the point, his tone was more resigned than anything, yet there was an unmistakable flicker of tenderness in his eyes.
Her heart warmed, and it was hard to imagine that she could still feel her heart race seeing the same face for so long, watching him transform from a boy into a mature man.
Jiang Ran’s heartbeat quickened, probably accelerating the blood flow, and suddenly she felt a sharp pain on the outside of her left thigh, which had been numb until now.
She ended the video call and instinctively reached down to touch the side of her thigh, only then realizing that her snow pants had been cut open by a long gash…
She vaguely recalled that before the race started, she had faintly seen the Finnish athlete’s board edge—it had just been sharpened, and the blade was very sharp, reflecting a snowy white metallic light even without sunlight.
Some people liked their board edges sharpened to the point of being able to cut flesh.
Following the tear in her snow pants, Jiang Ran instinctively didn’t touch it with her whole palm this time. She only used her index finger to hook into the tear slightly, and a sharp pain shot through her. She felt a damp sensation.
Her heart sank. She looked down and saw a striking smear of crimson red on her left index finger.
Her mind went blank for a few seconds, and then she immediately applied the magical rule that “as long as you don’t see the wound, you don’t feel the pain.” But in an instant, waves of piercing pain surged from the wound—overwhelming and all-consuming.
She lost her balance slightly and swayed.
The Finnish athlete had come sideways, slicing across her thigh with the board edge. The speed and weight of the board made the cut diagonal and deep. If she hadn’t been wearing protective gear, the wound would have been even deeper… It might have even torn the flesh from her body.
Jiang Ran’s face looked even worse than before. She steeled herself and looked at the wound—under the foreign team jacket, she was wearing her own black ski pants. Therefore, the blood-soaked snow pants were not noticeable at all.
She reached out, gripping the armrest of the chair, and tightly shut her eyes.
Her long, delicate eyelashes trembled heavily from the pain.
Wang Jiaming, not far away, had been confirming the next race schedule with the event organizers. He turned his head and saw the woman with her back to him, hunched over, her left leg slightly bent in an unnatural way.
He raised an eyebrow: “Jiang Ran?”
He watched the figure stiffen slightly, the bent leg slowly straightening. She turned around slowly, her face calm as she looked at him: “What’s up?”
“Does it hurt?” Wang Jiaming stared at her reddened eyes, saying, “If it does, just say so. At worst, you miss one race. The World Cup season has just begun; there’s plenty of time.”
Due to geographical distribution and location issues, almost all the World Cup competitions were held in North America and Northern European countries. With the current pandemic-related isolation policies and the sudden suspension of international flights, even if there were two or three years of competition to accumulate points, they still couldn’t compete with athletes who could compete right at their doorstep.
Jiang Ran waved her hand: “I can handle it; it’s just a minute’s worth of pain.”
Saying that, she pulled a black cloth from her snowsuit pocket and tied it around her thigh. The black cloth was a club armband she had randomly stuffed into her pocket, with red embroidered text bearing Beijiao’s name.
It was a club name tag given by the club owner, meant to be tied to a ski board bag or helmet.
She didn’t know how it ended up in her snowsuit pocket, but it came in handy now.
Wang Jiaming watched as Jiang Ran unfolded the item and tied it around her left thigh, puzzled: “What’s that for?”
“No big deal. I just realized when I stood up that the wind was blowing through the tear in my pants, so I noticed the Finnish athlete’s board edge had torn my pants, and the wind is blowing straight in—”
“Did you get hurt?” Wang Jiaming moved closer, making a move to look, “Let me see?”
“No, I was wearing protective gear.” Jiang Ran dodged slightly to the side, afraid that if Wang Jiaming got too close, he might smell the blood, “Don’t come over. You can’t just look at my thigh… If you do, that dog downstairs will poke your eyes out!”
After two years of interaction, Wang Jiaming knew that dog was fiercely protective of its owner, almost like a precious gem. What Jiang Ran said sounded crazy at first, but he didn’t doubt for a second that the dog might actually do something like that.
So he was genuinely scared, standing still and watching Jiang Ran tighten the strap.
Then he took a couple of steps within a one-meter radius.
“Sure you’re okay?”
“Sure.”
But actually, she wasn’t.
Jiang Ran now felt not only a sharp pain from the wound on her thigh but also a throbbing pain from her left ankle, which was fixed inside the ski boot. The pain wasn’t that obvious under the tight wrapping of the ski boot, and it even seemed to lessen slightly after walking a few steps… but in reality, it was still painful. She could feel a blood vessel or something else pulsing inside her ankle.
When the Finnish athlete had collided with her, she had been thrown backward, her board’s tip jammed into the nearby railing, breaking the board. She had been dazed on the snow for a while, unable to react—her vision went black, and the front of her eyes felt like the curtain of a musical slowly descending until darkness swallowed everything.
Her mind went blank, not remembering who she was or where she was.
Until a staff member approached and spoke to her did she slowly come back to her senses, sitting up by herself and then climbing onto the snowmobile under the relieved gazes of everyone around.
At that moment, the hard ski boots seemed to serve a stabilizing function. Jiang Ran vaguely began to suspect that her injury wasn’t just a simple sprain.
But she didn’t say anything because the staff told her it was time to get ready for the race.
…
Jiang Ran’s opponent in this round was someone she had never faced before.
The opponent, holding her board, walked toward the red course, and only then did Jiang Ran see the Norwegian flag on her chest. Their eyes met, and obviously, the opponent had heard about the earlier incident and leaned forward slightly, concerned, asking if Jiang Ran was still okay.
Jiang Ran responded with a smile—
But pale from the loss of blood and in excruciating pain all over, with a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, she didn’t realize how pale and fragile her smile looked…
It was probably the kind of smile that would make Beijiao fly into a rage on the spot.
Strapping on her board, she placed both hands on the handrail at the starting point.
Without looking, she knew that the veins on the back of her hands were bulging from the excessive grip under her gloves.
The timer beeped, and her reaction was half a beat slower than usual. It wasn’t until she caught a glimpse of her opponent on the adjacent track lowering their body did she suddenly snap back to attention—
A cold sweat broke out on her back, her pupils slightly constricted as she steadied herself.
She could almost hear her own heartbeat, strong and powerful, her breathing filling her ear drums. Her eyes locked onto a mark on the gate ahead—
Under such intense concentration, she felt the pain somewhat ease.
The first timer beep was a signal for the athletes to prepare, and the second was the start signal.
At the signal, she pushed off with both hands, using the strength of her arms, and her slender figure drifted out from the starting point!
The board heavily hit the snow, splashing snow dust with a “pap” sound that could reach the ears of every spectator on site—
This was the sound of the athletes entering the course.
Thick fog spread, the visibility barely exceeding five meters, and heavy snowflakes fell from the sky. Naturally, such a loud sound perfectly masked the woman’s low, muffled groan of pain.
How painful was it?
When walking on flat ground, the ski boots provided support, so she didn’t feel it, but until she completed a turn and needed to flip the board to switch edges, her ankle had to actively exert force—
The moment she tried to use her ankle to edge, the intense pain made Jiang Ran bite her lower lip directly. She tasted the metallic, bloody flavor in her mouth.
Yet she felt no pain from her lip, nor even the long wound on her thigh.
The pain in her ankle felt as if someone was swinging a massive hammer from a height and slamming it down. Every second, every moment, she nearly wanted to scream out loud from such pain!
But her speed did not slow down at all.
Subjectively, she even wanted to go faster—
Her strength and stubbornness could last for no more than a short forty seconds.
It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! Aaaaaah!
She was numb, as if she saw her whole life flashing before her eyes.
As the only daughter of Jiang Huaimin, she had been raised in luxury since childhood. She had always eaten well and dressed warmly, never having to work part-time jobs. Anything she wanted was just a matter of lifting a finger.
While her classmates crowded onto buses or walked to school, all she had to do was step out of her front door or the school gate, and then climb into her family’s Maybach.
Even the car door was opened for her by the driver.
As she grew older, Jiang Ran still valued her life above all else. Even during her high school days, no matter how much her classmates coaxed her, she refused to get anywhere near even a small ski jump.
Why? Because she was afraid of getting hurt if she fell. From childhood to adulthood, even if she accidentally broke the skin while doing crafts or opening a package, she would cradle her finger and whimper for days.
So how did such a spoiled young lady suddenly become so reckless over one thing?
Perhaps it was because Jiang Huaimin, in spoiling his daughter rotten, forgot to tell her that one day she would have to accept defeat. She couldn’t always win.
Jiang Ran didn’t understand this, though. She always had to be the best. When others told her, “Jiang Ran, you don’t have to be so serious. Look at how many people live their whole lives without achieving much, and they don’t just drop dead and start over. You should learn to let go like them.”
How did Jiang Ran respond?
The young lady sneered, “That’s not letting go. That’s giving up after knowing shame but lacking courage.”
That’s just how she was.
These thirty-odd seconds felt like an eternity to Jiang Ran, each second dragged out painfully, as if maliciously elongated.
A buzzing sound filled her ears, almost like tinnitus, and she felt like a walking corpse, relying solely on reflexes to weave around one gate after another.
In the final sprint phase, her legs went numb, the pain so intense it became numbness itself.
All she could hear was Wang Jiaming clapping and shouting her name at the finish line.
But in front of her was thick white fog. Under her goggles, she felt a drop of sweat sliding from her forehead into her eye.
The salty sting made her eyes water, and she blinked furiously before bursting through the final gate!
She let go of her ski pole, and as she crossed the finish line, she felt a strange disorientation, as if she wasn’t sure whether she was still alive.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the competitor from the adjacent slope trailing her by about half a body length before passing the final gate.
She won.
In that moment, the tension snapped. Her knees buckled, and realizing she couldn’t muster even a bit of strength to brake, she gritted her teeth and practically threw herself onto the snow.
The sheer speed sent her sliding several meters down the slope, rolling like a snowball!
Finally, with a loud “thud,” she crashed into a soft padded barrier and came to a stop.
Lying on the ground, she took a couple of deep breaths, reached up to remove her helmet, and took off her goggles, squinting slightly…
Through her tear- and sweat-blurred vision, she vaguely saw someone leap over the barrier from the officials’ section and sprint toward her—
That person ran extremely fast.
Almost in the next second, she was enveloped in a familiar embrace.
He didn’t speak, his pale lips pressed into a thin line as sharp as a blade. He quickly checked her condition from head to toe.
Jiang Ran saw the vein on his temple twitch, and his gaze lingered a few seconds longer on her left ankle.
Her leg lay limply on the snow, and under his piercing stare, she felt a chill run down her spine. Instinctively, she tried to move it to escape his gaze, but found her leg completely unresponsive.
Unable to move her carelessly, Bei Jiao could only let her upper body lean against him.
This suited Jiang Ran just fine. She turned her face slightly, burying it in the warmth and comfort of his chest, rubbing away her tears and sweat on his clothes…
She let out a silent, satisfied sigh.
Jiang Ran took off her gloves, her soft fingertips playing with the zipper on his cold jacket.
She felt the arm around her tighten silently.
“Easy there, I’m going to suffocate,” she whispered softly, “I lied. It’s not that I’m fine. I think I’m bleeding a little.”
The grip holding her didn’t ease even slightly.
Her voice grew softer and softer, finally almost drowned out by the surrounding noise as more and more people gathered around. She heard Wang Jiaming shouting for a stretcher, and unfamiliar voices exclaiming in shock—
But Bei Jiao said nothing.
Still a little shaken, she lifted her head and met his pitch-black eyes.
“You’re not mad, right? I didn’t expect it to hurt so much. But really, it’s just a very shallow little wound.”
Her voice was gentle and soft.
As she spoke, Bei Jiao raised his eyes toward the snowy slope in the distance.
He could clearly see the trail she had rolled down—not because there was a particularly noticeable mark where she had rolled, but because every inch of snow she had touched was stained with a long, shocking streak of blood.
The black strap tied around her thigh was completely soaked through, the embroidered red name on it no longer visible.
Jiang Ran, still trying to soothe Bei Jiao, released his zipper and reached up to touch his chin.
He tilted his head slightly, his jaw tight, dodging her hand.
Her hand met empty air, paused for a moment, then stubbornly stretched upward again, determined to grab his chin, as if reminding him to look down at her, shaking it slightly.
Bei Jiao finally lowered his head, but his dark eyes flickered with a dangerous signal. Jiang Ran, startled, immediately let go of his chin and withdrew her hand.
At that moment, Wang Jiaming arrived with the stretcher, calling out for Bei Jiao to place Jiang Ran onto it.
Bei Jiao didn’t move, silently staring at her left leg.
Jiang Ran felt awkward and a little scared that he was angry with her. His silence was terrifying. His eyes were already red, as if he could eat her alive.
As the pressure in the air grew so heavy she felt she could hardly breathe, Bei Jiao finally averted his gaze with what seemed like mercy.
A hoarse male voice finally broke the silence, directed at Wang Jiaming.
“Call more people over. I can’t do this alone. She might have a leg fracture. I’m not moving her carelessly.”
…
What?
Fracture?
Jiang Ran wanted to say Bei Jiao was overreacting—how could a medical student like her make such a rash diagnosis?
But as she opened her mouth to speak, Wang Jiaming, being his usual insensitive self, suddenly reached out and barely touched the edge of the bandage on her thigh—no real force—and her urge to protest was instantly transformed into a scream.
Halfway through, she swallowed it with a “gurgle,” biting her tongue.
She raised both arms and wrapped them around the young man’s warm neck, curling into his chest, murmuring, “Ah Jiao, it hurts.”
The comforting words she expected didn’t come. Perhaps at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to say a single extra word.
His hands were still icy from the snow, yet they moved through her hair with the gentlest touch in the world, stroke after stroke, easing the ringing in her ears caused by the pain.
For just a fleeting moment, warm breath brushed against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered like fragile butterfly wings as his cold lips brushed her nose.
Her heart relaxed, and the world finally faded into darkness.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage