Jiang Ran’s official video stirred a massive uproar. As she watched the comments roll in from the comfort of her home, she felt less like she had taken on a new apprentice and more like she had just gotten married—
The comments even included “respect, blessings”— blessings my foot?
Since when was there a grand prophecy declaring that Jiang Ran must remain forever alone on her skiing path, dooming anyone who dared become her apprentice?
She stopped reading the comments after a while, giving up on further observation. The replies kept multiplying at an alarming rate, eventually spilling over to the point where people were asking, “If not for skiing, who is she anyway?” She set her phone aside and returned to the living room.
Beijiao was busily packing his luggage, going back and forth. School registration was the day after tomorrow. The person who had initially been reluctant to move into her house had stubbornly stayed until the last possible moment, becoming the latest returnee in the dormitory.
Earlier, Jiang Ran had overheard his roommate’s phone call from her room: “I’ve already made your bed. Are you even coming back?!”
At the sound of her footsteps, he paused his packing and turned around.
Leaning against the doorframe, Jiang Ran yawned, “Want me to drop you off tomorrow?”
He tossed the last shirt into the suitcase and said, “Sure.”
Jiang Ran asked again, “Do you have a lot of classes next semester?”
“The second half of the semester is okay,” he replied. “I only have classes in the afternoon on two days a week… One of them is PE, which I can skip if I want. What’s up?”
“Alright,” she nodded calmly. “Then in the future, when I have complete beginners who want to learn skiing, I won’t just turn them away. I’ll ask if they’re willing to take lessons from you. If their schedule matches yours, come over and teach them. You’re just a little smarter than the average beginner, and slightly better than most resort instructors at teaching turns, so charging two or three hundred yuan per hour would be better than you going out handing out flyers.”
She generally didn’t support people who had only been skiing for two months teaching others. A few months ago, she would have scoffed at such a suggestion.
But people can be double-standarded.
This was her apprentice, and she was in enough groups to see, more directly than in the comments on her video, the excessive praise for Beijiao from various skiing enthusiast groups—
They barely mentioned how great a teacher she was, mostly expressing shock at how hardworking and talented this person was.
To sum up the comments: Sliding like this in just two months, if he had started skiing a few years earlier, we wouldn’t have to be afraid of the park kids looking down on us anymore. They’d be crying and begging us to race with them, calling us brothers. I won’t even watch the parallel giant slalom event at the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics if he’s not in it.
Jiang Ran, somewhat flattered by all the hype, felt that Beijiao could definitely teach some basic snowboarding turns and pushing the slope—
Just being able to ski doesn’t mean you can teach well, but during the last month of summer, when she was giving lessons, sometimes male students would stick around and listen attentively to her instructions.
Sometimes when a student was struggling and needed hands-on help pushing the slope, he would toss his board aside and eagerly step in to help.
…One could say that he was even more proficient at hand-holding and pushing the slope than she was.
Now she was suggesting he start teaching, and Beijiao himself felt it was unbelievable. Making three hundred yuan an hour just to accompany someone skiing and maybe help them put on their gear— six months ago, he would have only dared to dream about it during his desperate times, perhaps fleetingly while passing by a host club on the street (?!).
“Am I good enough?”
“You’ll find out if you try,” she said indifferently. “If you’re not, don’t you know to call your master to clean up after you? I’m not dead yet.”
He blinked back tears (not really).
Jiang Ran walked over and rummaged through his packed suitcase. He had arrived with just a tattered travel bag… now he had a large suitcase, mostly empty. She thought about what she should stuff into the empty spaces— like his toothbrush and such— but he had given her all the money instead. He couldn’t possibly leave without it?
As she pondered absentmindedly, she said, “Don’t waste the money you earn. Save it up. National Day will be here before you know it.”
Beijiao squatted down in front of the suitcase, hugging his knees, “What about National Day?”
“The Xinjiang ski resort opens in October,” she paused, looking at him strangely, “I’m taking you for an outdoor ride. Not coming?”
“…”
Beijiao felt certain that in his previous life, he must have done something incredibly good.
His life had been so miserable lately, simply because the gods had too many important things to remember, and only recently remembered to reward him.
…
The next day, Jiang Ran accompanied Beijiao to school. Since they were no longer freshmen, there weren’t too many complicated procedures, just the hassle of moving books for the new semester.
She sent him off and wandered around the campus herself—
There were still many first-year students in military uniforms, their green uniforms making the campus look lively and cheerful. In contrast, second-year students like Beijiao seemed less fresh.
Jiang Ran meandered back to the basketball gymnasium. From a distance, she could hear excited screams of girls. Peeking inside, sure enough, the A University basketball team was practicing.
As she peeked in, Song Die was dribbling past three players in a row, then leaping high for a powerful dunk!
In the sunlight, she could see his black hair flinging sweat droplets onto the gym floor. The basketball hoop vibrated as Song Die landed heavily, the sound of his sneakers screeching against the floor!
He landed, stood firm, turned around, and clapped his hands. The team captain’s cold gaze swept over the three players he had just passed, and he said to the trembling team members, “What kind of defense was that? Did you skip lunch or something?”
Everyone exchanged glances, too scared to utter a sound.
Jiang Ran took a seat in the stands and overheard a girl, probably an assistant to the basketball team, sigh, “What’s wrong? Is Song Die in a really bad mood today?”
Jiang Ran watched for a while. About five minutes later, Song Die made another three-pointer and three layups. He casually passed the ball to a teammate standing by the sidelines, signaling him to play.
Then he grabbed a towel hanging on the basketball hoop, wiped off the sweat, and walked up to Jiang Ran. In the shocked and horrified gazes of the surrounding people, he called out, “Sis.”
He had noticed her the moment she walked into the gym.
Jiang Ran, sitting on the chair and craning her neck at an almost painful angle, smiled up at the sweaty, masculine young man radiating heat. She didn’t bother with small talk and went straight to her comment: “You’re definitely in a bad mood today.”
Song Die paused mid-wipe, his eyes flickered, then calmly looked at the basketball team assistant sitting beside Jiang Ran. The assistant, immediately scared into submission, declared she had to mop the floor and rushed towards the nearby mop.
In no time, only Jiang Ran and Song Die were left.
Behind them, the basketball team continued their enthusiastic training, but their captain never looked back at them again. He lifted his shirt to wipe his face, the last trace of forced smile vanishing from his face.
“Yeah, my mood’s pretty bad,” he rarely spoke to Jiang Ran in such a flat tone. “It’s been bad since last night.”
Not that Jiang Ran was being arrogant.
But he said it himself, so it definitely had something to do with her— practically saying, “You made me unhappy.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Tired of straining her neck, she stood up. Standing in front of him, she still wasn’t tall enough, so she stepped back a few paces until she could barely make eye contact. “Why are you talking to me like you’re blaming me?”
Song Die’s lips curved slightly without mirth, his dark eyes fixed on the woman in front of him. He thought she would probably regret stepping into the gym today.
“You posted a video announcing Beijiao as your apprentice. I saw it.” He flattened his lips. “Jealousy, okay?”
That direct confession hit Jiang Ran like a slap in the face.
For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Was that why he hadn’t replied even with a single punctuation mark when she asked last night if she should pick him up on the way to school?
Did she think his phone had just run out of battery?
Jiang Ran didn’t know how to respond. What could she say? She was indeed biased. If it came down to who came first, Song Die had been there earlier, was more obedient, practiced diligently, and skied almost as well as Beijiao. Why hadn’t he been chosen as the apprentice?
She didn’t know how to answer that question. Even thinking about it herself, she felt like she must have been out of her mind—
That day, the boy had pulled her into his arms, promising obedience, begging her not to cry, and she had melted completely. Could she tell anyone about that?
She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Knowing she couldn’t possibly treat everyone fairly, she decided to give up. She grabbed a towel from the nearby basket of clean towels and tried to pacify him with a conciliatory tone, “What are you jealous about? You ski no worse than him. It’s just a title of apprentice—”
As she spoke, she gently wiped the sweat from his face.
He lowered his gaze, his eyes sweeping over her raised heels, then he snorted.
This laugh made Jiang Ran’s skin crawl, her hair standing on end. She sensed something was off but it was too late to retreat. The young man lightly gripped her wrist and pulled her to his chest.
“Sis.”
Jiang Ran stared at the towel in her hand, thinking that now she just wanted to wipe her own sweat.
She lifted her eyes slightly and responded.
“I’ve been thinking, and I really don’t need to be jealous of Beijiao. From the start, I never wanted to be his fellow apprentice.”
“Aww,” she thought the kid had suddenly come to his senses. “If you’ve figured it out, then—”
Song Die tilted his head, smiling charmingly at her, “I’d rather be his master.”
Jiang Ran: “…”
What the hell.
Now Jiang Ran felt like that dunk he had just performed was like a slam dunk straight to her face. She couldn’t say a word, her gaze frantically darting over the young man in front of her.
Young, academically excellent, tall, athletic, good personality, good family background.
She even felt like he must have lost his mind to get involved with her, like a bird hanging itself on her crooked tree.
“Not good.”
Her voice was still gentle. She didn’t struggle as her hand was held in his, simply lowering her eyes and saying, “You’re young, haven’t entered society yet. You still have a lot to learn. When you grow up…”
Song Die let out a soft laugh, using a suddenly overwhelming aura to interrupt her excuses. She stopped speaking abruptly, looking up at him in confusion.
He merely gently rubbed his thumb over her wrist, not applying any pressure.
Jiang Ran felt her scalp tingling under his touch. She really started to regret why she had come to the basketball gym.
“Rabbits don’t eat grass around their own burrows.”
She kept her head down as she spoke, “Please don’t say things like that again. I’m much older than you. It’s not appropriate.”
After she finished speaking, she steeled herself and pulled her hand out of his grasp.
Song Die hadn’t been holding tightly in the first place, so he let her go easily. He stared at his empty palm for a moment, showing no sign of anger or disappointment…
After all, he hadn’t expected her to agree so suddenly.
He adjusted his expression and finally returned to the familiar look Jiang Ran was used to. He smiled at her warmly, saying, “It’s okay. I just thought I should let you know that I was a bit upset after seeing your video yesterday.”
Jiang Ran mumbled a few words in response, practically fleeing the scene.
…
Just as she exited the gymnasium, not even stepping into the sunlight yet,
A sudden arm shot out from the side, hooking around her neck.
Caught off guard, she was yanked back under the eaves!
The hard arm pressed against her throat, making her catch her breath. After confirming she recognized his scent and wouldn’t struggle, it slid down, resting on her shoulders, effortlessly pulling her back—
She stumbled backward, crashing into a solid chest.
Looking up in confusion, she met a pair of dark eyes brimming with clear possessiveness.
“Having a good chat?” Beijiao smiled, his tone light but his eyes dark with jealousy. “What was that about ‘rabbits don’t eat grass around their own burrows’?”
His tone was innocent.
Yet the smile that didn’t reach his eyes and the sarcastic curve of his lips betrayed his true emotions.
“…” Jiang Ran, under his gaze, felt her previously calmed goosebumps rise again. She completely forgot to push him away. “When did you get here?”
“When the lunatic inside claimed he wanted to be my senior apprentice,” he replied indifferently. “Too early?”
Early enough.
At least he didn’t miss the classic moment.
Jiang Ran half-heartedly lifted her lips, trying to think of a way to smooth over this embarrassing situation.
Suddenly, she saw the boy in front of her narrow his eyes slightly. His grip tightened, pressing her thin back more firmly against his chest. He bent down, leaning close to her face.
Warm breath brushed across her cheek.
“If the rabbit wants to eat the grass around its burrow, that’s fine too. But logically, it should eat me first, right? Hmm?”
Author’s note:
…The basketball court = a battlefield of chaos
Ran Ran: Thanks for the invitation, I’m never coming back again QAQ
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