Jiang Ran dozed off with her head on the table in the café, and had an extremely embarrassing dream—
In her dream, she was still with Beijiao. Two days prior, heavy snow had fallen, and the view from the mountaintop at Songbei Ski Resort was utterly breathtaking. From the summit of G索, she could see a vast silver expanse of snow, while the distant frozen lake glistened under the sunlight.
She was dragged out of bed in the morning to accompany Beijiao to film a video. By noon, she was too tired to stay awake and fell asleep on the table halfway through her bowl of noodles.
When she woke up, she found herself curled up on a restaurant chair, using his thigh as a pillow. He was sitting relaxed, one hand propping up his chin as he chatted with Li Xingnan.
His other hand lazily played with her eyelashes.
It seemed like something had come up, and the boy was arguing again with the older man while Qiu Nian and Ju burst into laughter…
The afternoon sunlight poured through the café’s floor-to-ceiling windows, warming her body. As if sensing her movement, the hand that had been teasing her eyelashes stopped. He lowered his gaze to meet her awakened deep brown pupils and said, “You’re awake?”
She turned over, lying flat on his thigh, staring at him expressionlessly, but he just smiled. His fingertip lightly flicked across her nose: “You’ve worked hard. Tomorrow, I’ll let you sleep all day.”
In the dream, the hand cream she had insistently applied to the boy’s hand blended oddly with his natural scent. The sweetness felt strangely out of place on him, but her mind automatically filtered out the odd smell, detecting only his original essence—
Back then, she had thought maybe his scent had penetrated her very being, ingrained into her DNA, so recalling it was as simple as retrieving a file on a computer.
Now, she was smelling it again in her dream.
Unbelievably absurd.
When Jiang Ran woke up, she discarded the already melted lollipop stick, glanced at the apprentice sitting beside her, and vowed that in the future, before teaching another half-baked student, she would thoroughly investigate their background—
To avoid driving herself crazy for just a few thousand yuan.
Jiang Ran repeatedly glanced at the culprit beside her, only to discover strangely that this person was also watching her with an equally peculiar gaze…
At first, she thought she was hallucinating, so she spent another ten minutes confirming it several times. Finally convinced it wasn’t her imagination, she asked, when the tall, over-six-feet Northeastern guy peeked at her for the fifth time from above the edge of his coffee cup, “What are you looking at?”
Her poor apprentice spat his coffee back into the cup, bubbles rising from the liquid as he replied, “Nothing.”
He had just accidentally recalled his conversation with Beijiao from earlier.
Half an hour ago.
As if fully aware that this woman wouldn’t wake easily once asleep, the young man remained unusually calm even when caught. He stood beside her, one hand resting on the table’s edge, and said in a casual tone, “You were curious about who taught me to ski, right?”
The tall Northeastern guy stood there like a wooden chicken.
He watched as the black-haired young man, wearing a mask, looked down at Jiang Ran sleeping peacefully on the table… The corners of his eyes, visible beyond the mask, curved slightly, revealing a genuine smile. “It was her.”
The tall Northeastern guy, who hadn’t cracked a smile all winter, was completely thrown off.
Beijiao’s fingers were still lightly brushing her cheek in playful manner, clearly indicating their relationship was far from ordinary teacher-student.
“Back then, Jiang Ran had an apprentice named Tugou. That Tugou—”
“It was me.”
Two years ago, if someone had said “I’m the Tugou” with sincerity, the Northeastern guy would have laughed his ass off at the ridiculous plot, but now, looking at the young man standing there, calm and exuding a rare tenderness, he couldn’t even crack a smile.
If he was a dog, he was the prince of dogs—graceful and elegant. At the very least, he should carry a noble surname like Nangong or Ximen before being called a “Tugou.”
Later, Beijiao left, saying only, “The ski resort’s closing soon. Wake her up.”
The Northeastern guy sat down beside Jiang Ran, drinking coffee to calm himself for ten minutes. His mind was full of the thought, “Technically, I’ve also learned carving from Jiang Ran.” But before he could fully calm down, she woke up on her own.
And asked him what he was looking at.
Nothing much, just checking out what the master looked like.
Jiang Ran, seeing his blank expression, thought for a moment and asked, “When I was asleep just now… did anyone come by?”
She fixed her eyes on his face as she asked.
But the Northeastern guy was too busy spacing out to notice, and this became his perfect cover. He blinked dumbly and replied with a confused “Huh?”
Jiang Ran couldn’t quite articulate what she was feeling at that moment, so she simply raised her hand to tidy her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear before standing up. “Let’s go. The ski resort’s closing.”
……
What does it feel like when long-dead memories suddenly come back to haunt you after a year?
Back home that night, after brushing her teeth and lying in bed, Jiang Ran raised her hand to touch her nose and felt a pang of embarrassment. She suddenly realized this was already the twenty-third time she had done this since leaving the ski resort, like a caged animal developing repetitive behaviors in captivity.
She forced her hand down and grabbed her phone to distract herself, only to find that both the Northeastern guy and Song Die had sent her lesson requests for tomorrow—
If it weren’t for the “apprentice” debuff the Northeastern guy currently carried, she would’ve chosen him without hesitation. After all, Song Die was someone she had practically raised herself. Although he never officially became her apprentice, he was essentially no different from one.
So now, she no longer charged him for lessons. It wasn’t really a lesson anymore—it was more like “riding together.” While Beijiao was rising to prominence and gaining attention in Chongli, Song Die hadn’t lagged far behind. Now, his skill level alone was already above average on Guangrong ski slope.
Others might have already started monetizing their social media and giving lessons for profit.
But he didn’t. He just focused on his own riding.
When people asked who taught him, he’d casually point to the woman tearing up the slopes not far away, and the questioner would inevitably exclaim, “Wow,” followed by a comment on how a great teacher produces great students.
This time, Song Die reached out to Jiang Ran to learn the carve nollie 360°, and Jiang Ran couldn’t help but laugh when she saw his request.
The next day, on the lift, she casually asked, “Lately, everyone’s obsessed with 360s. Why are you all suddenly trying to learn this?”
“Because you posted a video. I was busy with grad school entrance exams and had already returned from Jilin, so I didn’t have time to learn from you… I’ve been riding for so long now. Last time I met Zhao Keyan on the slopes, he said I was ready for carving nollie.”
On the lift, Song Die stood on his RX board, then asked, “Who else is learning?”
Jiang Ran choked for a moment.
She instantly regretted asking that question.
After a pause, she said in a flat tone, “Nothing much. Just a lot of people. Probably like you—watched my tutorial videos.”
Beijiao had never had a public short-video account before. He had only a basic account linked to his phone number, used solely for reading news…
Later, that Northeastern guy apprentice of hers showed her a new video account he created. It was straightforward, bearing only the name “Beijiao.”
Over one ski season, he only posted videos of his own riding and tricks, with a blunt description: “No sponsors. One year of skiing experience. Watch if you want.”
Despite that, he had accumulated nearly five thousand followers.
Most of them were from Zhangjiakou who stumbled upon his videos and followed him after seeing how well he rode.
Jiang Ran didn’t even know about Beijiao’s short-video account before this. It was normal for Song Die to be unaware, as he had been extremely busy preparing for his graduate exams and hadn’t been active on short-video apps lately.
As they spoke, the two got off the lift at the summit. Jiang Ran bent down, carefully scraping snow off her board, when Song Die suddenly asked beside her, “You’re talking about Beijiao, right?”
A day ago, Jiang Ran could’ve heard that name without batting an eyelash… but today, she couldn’t. Her board-scraping paused, and she looked up at him.
Song Die smiled gently and said, “You only get vague and evasive when you talk about him.”
Jiang Ran: “…”
It’s not fair!
Didn’t you see how much I’ve changed in the past year? That cold, ruthless version of me!
How could one day of wavering undo all my efforts?
Jiang Ran pursed her lips, then heard her dry voice say, “He did do a 360.”
She paused, then added, “But not from me.”
Song Die raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
At this point, Jiang Ran couldn’t hide her frustration as she lowered her head. “Someone else taught him. I don’t know who. There are only a few people in this circle who can carve nollie. It might be Zhao Keyan, but he probably wouldn’t call Zhao Keyan ‘teacher’ obediently… But it’s normal for him to have another teacher. He can’t keep learning on his own forever—”
She rambled on and on.
It wasn’t that she was particularly heartbroken over that former “puppy,” but she felt a pang of loss. She had raised a carving prodigy from scratch, someone incredibly talented. For various reasons, someone else ended up reaping the benefits…
And now he belonged to someone else.
Yesterday, she foolishly went to check the comments under Beijiao’s nollie 360° video. Everyone was asking who his teacher was, even joking that it must be a god from heaven—
It nearly made her spit blood in frustration.
Seeing her dejected expression, Song Die wanted to say something—he didn’t know the full story, but he thought that after learning from Jiang Ran, Beijiao probably looked down on others—
After all, back then, in front of Jiang Ran, he had been a respectful, obedient little pup…
But out of her sight, on the streets, no one dared to even lift a trash can lid without his approval.
This kind of person had his eyes set high in the sky—how many could truly earn his respect?
Song Die calmly sorted through these thoughts, opened his mouth to comfort her, then changed his mind. Why should he speak up for Beijiao? Absolutely no need. He wouldn’t mind if Beijiao got three years in prison plus another three.
So he shut his mouth and said, “Oh, he’s so rude.”
A hypocrite?
Exactly—treat him with his own medicine.
……
With Beijiao gone, Song Die felt a peace he hadn’t known in the past year.
When he skied with Jiang Ran, he could focus on skiing. Without someone constantly popping up to challenge him, he found it incredibly pleasant—this was what real leisure time should be.
From the summit, they carved two turns to warm up. Song Die saw Jiang Ran stop at a gentler slope and wave at him. He skied over, and the two paused by the side of the slope.
Jiang Ran first demonstrated a nollie 36° for Song Die, then crouched down to explain the basics of carving a nollie 360°…
Just as she was explaining speed and power generation, she suddenly heard a “shhh” sound from the slope—someone carving by.
Instinctively, she lifted her gaze, and the next second, she saw a green little dinosaur in a costume, claws flailing, sliding toward them—
Like an out-of-control little cannonball.
He was going fast. Jiang Ran instinctively straightened up and spread her arms to catch him, but to her surprise, the little cannonball braked sharply with his back foot when he reached them, snow flying as he skidded to a stop near Song Die’s outer thigh. Song Die blinked in confusion.
At the same time, the little dinosaur actually came to a smooth stop right in front of them.
He had his dinosaur tail wrapped around his waist to avoid getting in the way, and now he lifted it, pulling out a lollipop from his pocket. This time it was peach-flavored, which he handed to Jiang Ran.
“Little brat, it’s you again,” Jiang Ran smiled as she accepted the candy. “Is today another day of admiring your big sister?”
“Yeah?” the chubby little dinosaur replied. “I heard you two talking from up the mountain just now. You’re starting to learn nollie 360°, right? Big sister, can I learn too? Can I learn with this big brother?”
He blurted everything out in one breath, then gazed at Jiang Ran with sparkling “QAQ” puppy eyes, his round, black, bright eyes blinking rapidly.
Who could resist such a pitiful little puppy who even knew to use polite phrases like “may I” and “please”?
Song Die, watching the kid’s expression and lines, felt like he had seen this scene somewhere before. Wasn’t this familiar?
Before he could say anything, Jiang Ran had already agreed. Teaching one was the same as teaching two—
Besides, such a small kid, already able to ride smoothly, even better than most adults. Teaching the next generation of snowboarders, she was more than willing…
She had lost one.
But now she gained another?
So, out of compassion for protecting the young, she moved the little dinosaur a bit closer to the safety railing before continuing her lesson on the basics of ollie mechanics—compress, stomp, use the speed to bend the board, and at the moment of rebound, use that force to jump. That was an ollie.
After the theory session, she casually asked, “Got it?”
Song Die: “Yes, sis…”
Little fatty: “Got it! Big sister! You’re amazing! You explained it so clearly!”
Song Die: “…”
Then it was time to practice sliding downhill.
Today, Song Die had originally come so Jiang Ran could help him switch to a Mach board, which would make jumping easier. But he was stubborn, insisting he would mostly use a hammerhead board in the future. He didn’t want to give up the speed of the hammerhead just for a few spins, so without hesitation, he brought his RX board.
“Zhao Keyan said hammerhead boards can ollie too, it’s just harder. But if you manage it, you’ll jump even higher than with a regular flatland board.”
That’s what Song Die told Jiang Ran, though once he actually tried, he realized he had truly fallen for Zhao Keyan’s nonsense—
Hammerhead boards were meant for carving, not tricks. Trying to force tricks onto it made his flatland learning extremely difficult. The board was stiff and long, making ollies nearly impossible. He either scraped snow or completely failed to rotate, sliding forward on the nose and rolling away.
But the little fatty used a children’s board, light and soft, and he was dressed warmly enough not to fear falling. Since he could already do jumps, after just a couple tries, he managed a small ollie bounce. Excitedly, he pulled Jiang Ran’s hand and shouted, “I did it! I did it! I’m gonna tell my master!”
Jiang Ran was pulled into his joyous celebration, feeling that familiar happiness of teaching someone something new… Kids were just so adorable!
She ruffled the little boy’s head, about to say something, when he turned and blinked at Song Die, who was sitting behind them, lost in thought about how to ollie: “Big brother! Why can’t you ollie?”
Song Die: “…”
Song Die: “Because I’m using a hammerhead board.”
The little boy looked at Jiang Ran’s red hammerhead board under her feet with total confusion.
Song Die: “…”
Song Die was starting to feel defeated.
Song Die: “Where did this kid come from?”
Jiang Ran: “No idea. Gave me a candy yesterday outta nowhere. Then gave me another today. I accepted his payment, so I had to teach him, right?”
The little boy raised his arm and shouted: “It’s tuition! Tuition!”
Jiang Ran couldn’t help but laugh, clearly finding him adorable.
Song Die didn’t find him cute at all. He felt like he was living out the second episode of *Detective Conan*, where the annoying dog had been fed some weird potion and returned in a dinosaur suit, once again messing with people’s heads.
…
Song Die was wrong, but not entirely.
On the second ride up the mountain, the little boy insisted on sitting alone at the back, giving Jiang Ran space to sit with Song Die.
Seeing how considerate he was, for a brief moment, Song Die actually felt a little guilty, thinking he shouldn’t have suspected such a pure child…
But as soon as they got on the lift, the little brat took off his gloves, revealing a Xiaotiancai smartwatch on his wrist. He dialed a number—
“Master, I caught up with them. It’s going smoothly. I promise 90% of the time the pink firecracker sister’s eyes are on me! That guy gets nothing… I even learned a nollie 360° on the side. I’m doing tricks now! I jumped super high! I’m almost as good as you now! The firecracker sister speaks nicely and is so gentle. I like her so much!!”
On the other end of the call, the person was silent for a few seconds before smiling faintly. “Okay.”
He said.
“Good job.”
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