The chubby little dinosaur’s name is Atuan, which means “round and plump,” as he explained, because he was born fat like a tangyuan (sweet rice ball), so he’s called Atuan.
Jiang Ran asked him why he wasn’t named “tangyuan” then. The kid waved his big hand dismissively, saying, “That’s my nickname.”
This made the older sister laugh uncontrollably, and so by the end of that morning, during lunch break, Atuan had already earned the privilege of having Jiang Ran hold his hand while going to buy lunch… Song Die followed them the entire time with a dark expression, hands in his pockets, making sure no one in the crowd collided with the two ahead.
Now, the big and small figures stood in front of the ordering window. The woman bent over, her long lashes fluttering outside her mask, as she asked the chubby kid beside her, “Are you going to eat some noodles then?”
Song Die wanted to remind her that a seven-year-old child, already in first grade, didn’t need to be spoken to in baby talk.
But saying that would make him seem petty.
It was a weekday, and after the pandemic, there was much less movement between provinces and cities, so the ski resort wasn’t very crowded either. After getting their food, they found an empty corner seat, with Jiang Ran and Atuan sitting side by side and Song Die sitting across from them.
Song Die watched as Jiang Ran unwrapped the chopsticks, carefully removing the splinters before handing them to the child beside her.
“Sister, I can do it myself.”
“Nonsense. Kids should be taken care of by adults. Here are your chopsticks.”
“Thank you, sister. How much is lunch? You can scan my QR code.”
“No, no. Why do you even have a QR code?”
“You don’t know? Kids these days all have them! Come on, scan it! My master said, men shouldn’t spend women’s money casually!”
He rolled up his sleeve to show her his children’s smartwatch, and Jiang Ran obligingly exclaimed “Wow!” clearly charmed, her lips curling into an uncontrollable smile.
Because the chubby kid was too short, she had to slightly bend and turn sideways to talk to him. Her hair fell by her ear, and finding it bothersome, she casually lifted a strand behind her ear, revealing a small section of her pink-white earlobe.
Still in a baby voice, she asked him, “You have a master too? Then does your master also do switchstance carving turns?”
Song Die stared for quite a while until Jiang Ran felt his gaze and curiously lifted her head, blinking at him and asking strangely, “What’s wrong?”
Her phone had returned to normal, but not completely, making her speak ten times softer than usual… Song Die blinked, hiding the light in his eyes, and smiled at her, “Do you like kids?”
“…Not that much.” Jiang Ran said awkwardly, then turned to look at Atuan, pinching his cheek, “But I really like little boys who ski well like our Atuan. Right?”
Song Die scoffed, “If you had a son, how could he not ski well?”
“No, whether he skis or not depends on his interest. Do TV stars’ children necessarily have to be stars too?”
Jiang Ran said indifferently, suddenly recalling how she used to be constantly annoyed by Bei Jiao, vowing never to have a son, since one Bei Jiao was already childish enough to bother her.
Her lips relaxed a bit, and she fell into a few seconds of silence due to her own thoughts.
Then, she returned to normal and continued talking to Atuan.
After lunch, at the insistence of the chubby kid who was still burping, she happily scanned his QR code and accepted payment for his lunch.
Just straightening her back, she patted his head with a smile wanting to say something, when suddenly she heard commotion from not far away.
She had no idea what happened and turned her head in confusion, only to see Zhao Keyan rushing out like his butt was on fire, like a rocket… his snow boots still on, and his slightly reddened eyes showing his current anxiety.
He zoomed past Jiang Ran like a gust of wind.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jiang Ran asked.
“Same old script.” A passerby said, “He did some flirty stuff with another girl again and got caught by his girlfriend, pissing her off.”
“When did Old Smoke get a girlfriend?”
“When did Old Smoke not have a girlfriend?”
“…Right.”
Indeed.
What kind of scumbags were these guys in Chongli? Why were they all two-timing like this?
Jiang Ran sighed, feeling a sense of empathy involuntarily.
She thought for a moment and commented, “This one is good. At least she dared to show her anger to Old Smoke. The previous ones always cried and asked ‘what’s going on between you and her,’ what else could be going on… This one is good. Look how desperately Old Smoke is chasing after her. I think they can last. They’re well matched.”
She concluded, and everyone in the restaurant who knew Zhao Keyan laughed with schadenfreude, showing no sympathy… mainly because this sort of thing was quite common for him.
At this moment, she felt someone standing beside her, a head taller than her.
She turned around and saw Song Die.
This semester he had entered the lab as a graduate student, and didn’t spend much time around campus, so the rules weren’t as strict. He dyed his hair from gray-white to black in a gradient, with the bottom layer black, with individual strands highlighted in a gradient style…
paired with black onyx earrings, his slightly thinner jawline revealed a hint of coldness and nobility.
Song Die was very low-key on the slopes and rarely got into conflicts with others, always smiling.
Now, when he was expressionless, people finally remembered that he was indeed a genuine second-generation rich kid with several hospitals in his family.
He originally wasn’t an especially easygoing person, which could be seen from how everyone respected and somewhat feared him when he was on the school basketball team…
But in front of Jiang Ran, he had never shown even a hint of being difficult to get along with.
Jiang Ran smiled at him, “You’re here. You missed the fun—”
Before her words ended, Song Die only glanced in the direction Old Smoke had left, suddenly lifting his hand to gently grab Jiang Ran’s elbow.
Her voice stopped abruptly.
Song Die’s black onyx earring sparkled under the ski resort lights.
At the same time, his hand silently slid down and took hold of her hand.
Feeling the woman beside him stiffly turn her head, looking at him strangely, Song Die’s dark pupils flickered, and he gently squeezed the soft hand in his.
He tightened his grip.
Meeting her gaze, he smiled and said, “We’re well matched too, sister. Want to give it a try?”
He didn’t do much housework at home, his hands only had a thin callus on his fingertips from working with lab equipment, and his scent was a faint cologne mixed with a disinfectant smell, non-invasive.
Saying such words, he didn’t even make it feel abrupt or shocking.
Jiang Ran simply fell into a brief state of confusion and silence.
Song Die slowly squeezed her palm, then reluctantly let go of her hand, gently saying, “I’m not pressuring you. I just think you could consider it.”
…
Song Die was always like this.
Even if the sky fell, he would remain calm and composed.
She never expected even a confession (?) to be like this.
Considering the twists of fate, they had known each other for about two years. Although Song Die occasionally hinted at having feelings for her, most of the time he approached her to discuss skiing.
Everyone was quite busy.
During the first snow season after Jiang Ran and Bei Jiao started dating, Song Die didn’t even come to Songbei Ski Resort. When asked, he said he couldn’t make it due to pandemic restrictions, spending the entire winter in Xinjiang…
It wasn’t until last season that he came to Songbei Ski Resort.
But if one truly liked someone, shouldn’t they want to be by their side all the time?
Back then, when Bei Jiao was still a loyal dog, he was like that. No matter how well he skied, he wanted to be Jiang Ran’s leg accessory—
In the morning, before heading up the mountain, he would kiss her and report, “I’m going out now”;
At noon, if Jiang Ran hadn’t replied to messages past ten o’clock, he would bombard her on WeChat, reminding her to get up and go skiing, waiting for her at the top of the mountain;
In the evening, after dinner, he insisted on squeezing together on the couch to watch TV, even if it was just watching soap operas, he would insist on discussing the plot with her.
Unlike Song Die… calm and uneventful?
Faced with this sudden confession, Jiang Ran didn’t even have time to be surprised, her focus entirely on the fact that she hadn’t expected Song Die to still hold onto this idea…
Or was it just a casual suggestion for today?
The look in one’s eyes when they like someone can’t be hidden. Today, Song Die’s proposal made her think, “Oh, he hasn’t given up on this idea yet,” which indicated that she never really thought Song Die liked her that much.
Jiang Ran was very clear-headed, not some seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl anymore. She understood that most relationships don’t necessarily have to start with intense passion—
Most of the time spent with Song Die was relaxing and casual. He seemed to have a good temper, wasn’t reckless, and his overall qualities were considered ideal, so Jiang Huaimin would probably be moved to tears of gratitude, asking every three days when they would get married.
Therefore, Jiang Ran was actually swayed.
If she had to be with someone, it might as well be someone she wasn’t overly attached to but felt comfortable with, making it less tiring.
When she was with Bei Jiao, every day her heart felt full, as if she was happy and satisfied, but if she could choose again, she wouldn’t pick that option—
Fulfillment meant that one day it would be emptied.
Fullness leads to loss; it’s a law of nature.
She didn’t know where this thought of hers, which could be considered as having flawed values, came from.
At this moment, she even secretly harbored a rather despicable intention—
It took three years to move on from someone’s shadow, which was too long. She had heard that the best way to forget someone was to jump into someone else’s arms.
But this was Song Die, so she felt a little reluctant.
So she suppressed a series of vile thoughts, slightly narrowed her eyes, and curled her lips, “You know I haven’t forgotten that dog yet, right? How could you make such a request? Are you really okay with that?”
“It’s okay.” Song Die seemed to expect her response, not the least bit provoked, he said, “Being with me, you’ll quickly forget him.”
His tone was full of unwavering confidence.
He was really good at being persuasive, knowing that speaking at a calm and steady pace made him exceptionally convincing.
Jiang Ran was just about to reply when she felt the chubby little hand she was holding trying to pull away. She was startled and looked down, only to see Atuan also looking at her in confusion—
Clearly not understanding what they were talking about.
Her face turned red all of a sudden.
She didn’t know why either.
At the same time, she heard Song Die lightly laugh beside her, and she felt a bit embarrassed, quickly covering Atuan’s ears with her hand, “Don’t say these things in front of a child.”
Song Die good-naturedly said “Oh,” with his lips still curved upward.
…
After lunch, they prepared to return to the ski resort. When Song Die picked up his snowboard, he made a sound of confusion, “Hmm.”
Jiang Ran casually asked what was wrong. He reached out and shook the binding, discovering that the binding was loose. He casually pried open the binding base and found that one of the screws inside had broken.
Carving turns aggressively on the snowboard constantly tormented the bindings, trying to figure out how to firmly control the bindings to apply pressure to the snowboard. Breaking one or two bindings was common, so a broken screw was nothing, and replacement screws could be found at any snowboard shop.
Jiang Ran went to a familiar snowboard shop at the entrance—Huang’s shop—to get a screw, and messaged Song Die to meet her at the tool station.
All Rongchuang ski resorts feature dedicated tool stations for skiers, equipped with air pressure spray guns for snowboard cleaning and tools such as screwdrivers for binding adjustments.
After sending the message, Jiang Ran turned around and found Atuan still following her, so she squatted down and patted his head, saying, “Why don’t you go in and play first? Sister needs to help that older brother adjust his bindings—”
Her voice was soft, so it was easily drowned out by the noisy and lively background sounds. It was a cheerful female voice from not far away—
“Idol, can you help me adjust it? I want to try JSBA too!”
The woman and the chubby kid turned their heads at the same time, and thus saw two people walking towards them from a distance—
The girl also had long curly hair like Jiang Ran, and her appearance was on the cute side. Her face was either rosy from blushing or from the cold, a red glow complementing her almond-shaped cat eyes, making her look particularly pure and lovely…
She was wearing loose light purple snow pants and a striped shirt on top. Now, as she walked, she bounced along, chasing the person ahead.
Walking briskly ahead was a young man with black hair, tall and well-built, holding a safety helmet in his hand. He was wearing gray overalls with a white hoodie underneath, and a Gray Type-R strapped on his arm…
He was wearing a mask, so only his long-shaped eyes and black pupils were visible, which alone conveyed impatience and a habitual laziness.
Yet this person, not only could be recognized by his eyes, but even if he turned to ashes, Jiang Ran would still recognize him.
Crouching in front of the chubby kid, she stared blankly at the couple in the distance, never expecting to meet Bei Jiao again so unexpectedly and unguardedly.
It had been a year since they last saw each other, and he seemed to have grown a bit taller, wearing a snowsuit she had never seen before.
In Jiang Ran’s completely stunned gaze, the young man with his back to her didn’t notice her presence at all, rushing straight to the ski resort entrance, lifting his hand to pull the handle leading to the main gate, which opened with a sound.
He had just stepped forward when a girl from behind grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the workbench.
Jiang Ran watched as the girl seized Beijiao’s arm, and for a second or two, she forgot to breathe.
For a fleeting moment, she really hoped he would yank his arm away and demand why she was touching him.
But he didn’t.
He simply let himself be dragged like a limp noodle with an expression of weariness on his face, until he reached the workbench, bumping into the wall beside it, and then leaning casually against it, slightly frowning at the girl.
The girl slammed her snowboard onto the workbench and said domineeringly, “Tune it up!”
Beijiao glanced at the carving board on the workbench and paused before finally speaking: “Just stick to your SAJ. Why change to JSBA? You’re not that good to begin with. Changing disciplines will only make it worse.”
His tone was familiar.
They must have known each other for quite some time. Jiang Ran thought the girl looked familiar—it was probably the same girl who used to chat with Beijiao when he first started skiing, a year or two ago.
Oh right, she was a senior at his school, named Liang He.
They had a group chat, all SAJ riders. Initially, they wanted to invite Beijiao to join, and although he joined the group, he was the only one who rode JSBA.
When Jiang Ran looked at Beijiao’s phone, she noticed the chat history was filled with messages, and Liang He was very active in the group, chatting casually or discussing skiing with everyone.
After Beijiao joined the group with a greeting, he never said another word.
He even told Jiang Ran, “If you don’t like it, you can help me leave the group. I don’t care either.”
Just like the day he added Liang He, he had also said, “If you don’t like it, I’ll delete her.”
—He never expected they’d become so close.
At this moment, under Jiang Ran’s gaze, Liang He, who had repeatedly faced the threat of being deleted, was completely oblivious to everything that had happened before. She reached out and poked Beijiao’s chest: “Don’t argue, just adjust it for me! I want the same angle as you!”
He slapped her hand away from his chest and stood up reluctantly, his expression blank.
His long fingers picked up a screwdriver.
At the moment he stood in front of Liang He’s snowboard, Jiang Ran suddenly recalled a line often seen in melodramatic novels: “You never know who ends up laughing until you turn to the last page.”
At this moment, Beijiao held the screwdriver and casually pried open the baseplate cover of Liang He’s binding, then leaned in to check the binding angle… He impatiently tapped the backplate of the binding with the screwdriver and clicked his tongue.
Liang He glared at him: “Why are you so impatient?”
Beijiao lazily twirled the screwdriver and muttered, “Can’t I be impatient?”
Liang He stamped her foot: “No way! Hurry up! Help me adjust the angle. What angle do you use? (33, 21)? I want that too!”
Their conversation reached her ears, and Jiang Ran stood rooted to the spot. She thought she should leave now, immediately, right away.
But her feet seemed stuck to the ground, her blood frozen in her veins, her brain starved of blood flow, leaving her limbs unresponsive to her mind’s commands—
Have you ever experienced that strange, desperate feeling where your anger peaks in an instant, only to vanish entirely the next?
Her thoughts were in chaos.
(33, 21) was the angle she had always used. Later, she also used it for Beijiao. At that time, she had joked, “So now you’re using the same angle as your master. Who else would you want to follow?”
And now, he was holding a screwdriver, grumbling softly but still adjusting the same angle for another girl.
Her throat tightened, as if gripped by an invisible hand.
Her fingertips were numb, and she felt the small, warm hand of Atuan slipping from her grasp… She looked down at the chubby kid staring at her strangely, wanting to say something but finding herself unable to utter a single word.
She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would burst into tears.
That would be too embarrassing.
She was just standing here, watching her ex-boyfriend adjusting another girl’s binding.
But to her, it felt like witnessing someone standing on the summit of Mount Everest, raising their arms and shouting, “The end of the world is here—die, humanity!” Then a flood of salty seawater engulfed her, drowning her until she suffocated.
Jiang Ran attempted to steady herself, but soon realized with despair that she couldn’t. So she turned to Atuan and forced a smile—a strained expression more painful than tears.
Atuan blinked: “What’s wrong? Why do you suddenly look unhappy?”
A seven-year-old could see she was upset.
Jiang Ran’s fake smile collapsed. This was hopeless.
She moved her lips, intending to say something to brush it off, when suddenly another tall figure, no less imposing than Beijiao, blocked her view, casting a shadow over her and hiding the two people near the workbench.
Holding the BC RX snowboard in his hand, its origin the same as the gray red tree in Beijiao’s hands, and with the same binding angle of (33, 21), the young man with gray-streaked white hair looked down at her calmly, his dark eyes as still as a lake beneath a snowy mountain.
“Don’t look,” Song Die said in a calm voice. “You look like you’re about to cry, you know?”
Of course she knew.
Wordlessly, she bent down and grabbed Song Die’s hand, placing the screw she held into his palm. She originally meant to signal him to go to the workbench herself, needing to avoid the scene.
But to her surprise, her hand couldn’t pull away after handing over the screw. The person in front of her turned his hand and gripped her wrist, flipping her hand over so her palm faced upward.
Using his thumb to force open her tightly clenched fist, the indentation where the screw had been pressed into her palm was deep, and the skin had even broken.
Jiang Ran fell silent, feeling ashamed.
But Song Die merely gave a light scoff, almost nonchalant. He pinched her fingertips lightly: “So soft.”
Then he let go of her hand.
Then he put down the snowboard in his hand and pulled her into his arms.
Jiang Ran’s head was pressed into his chest, and in that instant, the tears she had held back for so long burst forth. She cried into Song Die’s snowsuit, her voice muffled: “He actually adjusted the bindings for someone else!”
Song Die simply raised his hand and patted her head, just like he had been soothing the little dinosaur-costumed Atuan all day.
…
Near the workbench, completely unaware of what had happened behind them.
Beijiao had just unscrewed a screw with the screwdriver and flicked it away casually. As Liang He grumbled and searched the table for the screw, he let out a satisfied chuckle.
Halfway through his laughter, he suddenly felt something was off. He lifted his head and looked toward the distance.
He saw a couple hugging near the storage cabinets, the man’s back to him, his arms wrapped tightly around the woman, hiding her completely except for a glimpse of her long hair.
His apprentice Atuan, dressed in a dinosaur costume, stood two or three meters away from the pair, silently staring at them.
Beijiao: “?”
Beijiao had no idea why Atuan, who had been assigned to tail someone, was instead standing by Jiang Ran, mesmerized by watching others fall in love—
This kid really wasn’t learning anything good?
Could he not do something productive?
Beijiao always scoffed at spending five or six hundred yuan on a ski pass just to come here and date—he slowly and disinterestedly turned his gaze back and continued adjusting the binding.
After tightening another screw, he suddenly felt annoyed.
For no apparent reason.
He carelessly tossed the screwdriver aside and said, “Forget it. Adjust it yourself. Your binding is FLUX, different from SP mountain. (36, 24) would suit you better.”
His tone was firm, his dark eyes indifferent as they swept over Liang He’s disappointed gaze. He turned and picked up his snowboard, heading toward the slopes.
This time, Liang He didn’t reach out to stop him.
Because from the way he walked away, she could tell that if she tried to grab him now, she would definitely be shaken off.
Holding his red tree snowboard with the limited-edition BC wing stickers, Beijiao pushed open the door to the slopes. As he absentmindedly glanced at the holographic sticker on the board’s surface, he suddenly paused.
On a whim, he turned his head to look back—
The couple who had been hugging in the middle of the rental hall were gone.
Damn it.
The young man with black hair curled his lip in disdain and turned away—
Assuming it was just his imagination. Ever since he found out Jiang Ran had returned to Guangzhou, he had been acting strangely, suddenly becoming paranoid and suspicious.
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