Bei Jiao was too busy now. Unlike the time when he was a freshman and occasionally had afternoons off, allowing him to rush to the ski resort for part-time work, now he wished he could split every minute in half—half for earning money on the slopes and half for preparing for the postgraduate entrance exam in the self-study room.
Originally, his National Day holiday schedule was to wake up at seven in the morning, head to the self-study room until noon, then go to the ski resort. In the afternoon, he would work until the resort closed, pack up, and return to school. If he arrived early enough, he would stay in the self-study room until 10:30 PM. This was how he planned to spend the seven-day break.
Until September 30th, when he received a call from Qiu Nian. She enthusiastically invited him to come to Harbin because Jiang Ran had been working nonstop for three whole months, obsessively practicing with hard boots like a martial artist in retreat—hardly eating or sleeping.
For the first two months, she was still relatively normal, just a bit down in spirits. But this month, she barely slept at all.
She kept her work so secret that fewer than three people even knew what she was doing—Qiu Nian, who had confronted her directly, and Li Xingnan and Aju.
Bei Jiao only found out how serious it was when it became impossible to keep it a secret anymore. He learned she had joined the Heilongjiang Provincial Training Team, not just messing around with hard boots again.
“Why don’t you wait until her funeral to invite me? I can stand in the family line and greet the guests first.”
After uttering this sentence that left Qiu Nian feeling shattered and guilty for a whole day, Bei Jiao disrupted his carefully planned National Day schedule. On the same day, he bought a flight ticket to Harbin during the Golden Week (when airfares and hotel prices peaked), rushing to Harbin immediately.
This was the same guy who, when buying a steamed bun, would ask the seller to switch to seafood filling if he found the pork filling too expensive at 3.5 yuan. Yet, he bought a 2000 yuan plane ticket without batting an eye.
The next day, carrying his snowboard, he stormed into the Harbin Rongchuang ski resort. Bei Jiao swore that up until the moment he stepped into the unfamiliar ski resort, he was still really angry. He had already planned how he would confront Jiang Ran on the slopes, drag her down, scold her (he had mentally prepared himself and truly had the courage to do it), then drag her back to the hotel and watch her sleep until she had rested through the entire Golden Week holiday…
However, when he finally found Jiang Ran after searching every corner of the large ski resort, his plan instantly fell apart.
—It’s rare in one’s lifetime to see someone silently shedding tears over a steaming bowl of instant noodles.
Bei Jiao quickly searched every corner of the Rongchuang slopes by express delivery style, dragging his snowboard covered in the poor-quality snow of Harbin Rongchuang, panting heavily…
He stood silently in the ski equipment hall, watching the woman’s back as she remained unaware of his arrival—
She was expressionless, staring at her competition snowboard while waiting for her noodles. When the board was almost burned through by the hot noodles, she opened the package, took a couple of bites, and possibly because the noodles were too terrible, she began to cry while holding the bowl.
What was going through Bei Jiao’s mind at that moment?
All the harsh words he had prepared were swallowed back, replaced by an overwhelming sense of heartache that engulfed him.
He stood behind the woman with a blank expression, watching her cry silently, calmly thinking to himself: I’m done for, I’ve fallen for a crazy person.
At that moment, he considerately chose not to approach her.
He also quietly abandoned all the tough measures he had planned to take when he came here.
He crouched behind a wall like a thief, until she finally gave up on the steaming noodles, grabbed her snowboard bag, and curled up like a homeless person on a bench, closing her eyes in a pitiful manner.
Then he circled around to stand in front of her, his shadow falling over the half-asleep woman. Her eyelashes fluttered uneasily as she sensed his familiar presence, her eyes moving beneath her eyelids.
And he easily saw the dark circles under her eyes and the barely touched noodles.
Qiu Nian hadn’t exaggerated at all; she was at the end of her rope. Seeing was believing, and now he was certain she hadn’t been eating or sleeping properly.
“…What’s wrong with you? Why are you torturing yourself like this?”
He muttered in a low voice, almost inaudible to himself, his dark eyes darkening further. He raised his hand and gently touched her trembling eyelashes with his fingertip.
He hadn’t touched a cigarette the day before he came here and had repeatedly washed his hands, because he had heard she disliked the smell of smoke—
So at this moment, he touched her without hesitation or restraint.
Jiang Ran must have really fallen asleep. In her dream, she thought she was being disturbed, her soft face dodging his playful touch… like a small animal, she curled up tighter, burying her face into the crook of her elbow.
So he unzipped his ski jacket, revealing the warm and dry hoodie underneath, removed the snowboard bag she was using as a pillow, and gently placed her onto his lap.
She didn’t wake up.
In fact, as soon as she caught the scent of his laundry detergent, her brows relaxed and she nuzzled closer, sinking into a deeper sleep in his arms.
—So how would she handle the situation after waking up?
When Bei Jiao was gazing down at Jiang Ran’s pale, almost translucent nose with a distracted expression, thinking about this question, he encountered Chun.
“Hello, may I ask who you are?”
A short-haired girl with a large snowboard bag approached, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and caution.
The young man with black hair paused his fingers, which had been entwined in Jiang Ran’s hair, gently stroking the strands, and slowly raised his gaze.
Judging from her voice and general appearance, Bei Jiao estimated she was in her early twenties.
She wasn’t very brave.
After being glanced at by him, she even took a small step back.
Before he could ask, she honestly introduced herself, “I’m Jiang Ran’s teammate.”
Bei Jiao’s fingertip brushed over the ear of the woman in his arms, and in her sleep, she turned over, her face toward his abdomen, burying herself deeper into his warm and soft hoodie.
“I was just thinking about how I should explain why I’m here when she wakes up…”
He tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his thin pink lips, “Ex-boyfriend?”
Chun was so shocked that she was momentarily speechless.
Thinking about Xie Yu, there was no doubt—he was done for, completely finished…
Because after a wild boar eats fine bran, it can’t return to the mountains and struggle to eat coarse grass again, let alone a human?
…
In her sleep, Jiang Ran indeed dreamed of that little wooden cabin in a heavy snowstorm. The soft, worn wooden floorboards creaked with every step. Outside, snowflakes danced in the air.
Inside the cabin, an old, dim yellow light bulb illuminated the garbage, seemingly isolating them from the icy world. It felt like there was no safer place than this.
She reached out her hand to Bei Jiao, who was still a teenager back then, hugging his waist, burying her face in his chest, greedily inhaling his scent.
She sighed, saying, [I feel like everyone is laughing at me. I was recruited into the team like a treasure by the coach, but I kept falling, hitting poles, and getting a terrible time of 39 seconds. I worked hard for three months without eating or sleeping, improving to 35 seconds, yet everyone kept telling me: Jiang Ran, you’ve done really well.]
She paused, finally having an unstoppable urge to pour out her heart in her sleep: [Where’s the good in that? I’m at the bottom of the team. Why do they use that tone to force me? Are they pitying me?]
But only the weak needed pity.
The teenage Bei Jiao gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
Jiang Ran thought that, just as she remembered, he would say to her next: Do you think they have a few seconds to care whether you’re as high and mighty as they imagine?
But he didn’t.
The person in her arms merely played with the ends of her hair with one finger, while the other hand possessively held her waist, silently.
After waiting for a long time without getting a response, she looked up at him in confusion, only to find that the boy’s appearance had subtly changed in the blink of an eye. His facial features became more defined, his nose more prominent, his Adam’s apple more noticeable—those were unmistakable signs of masculinity…
The black-haired young man, transitioning from a “teenager” to a “man,” lazily held her against the bed, one leg bent, his gaze distant.
“Jiang Ran,” he slightly parted his thin lips, “what’s wrong with you? Why are you torturing yourself like this?”
Her heart constricted, and she stared blankly at the indifferent boy.
His hands finally stopped playing with her like a docile cat. His rough fingertips, carrying the faint scent of hand soap, brushed over her long lashes—
“Have you ever read a book? If not, at least heard of those motivational stories? Heard of that absurd experiment? Flowers that are praised continuously for thirty days grow strong and bloom brilliantly; flowers that are scolded and doubted for thirty days gradually wither and become frail… Such an absurd story, why do you think it was created by humans and widely spread?”
He said.
“Everyone hopes you grow strong and bloom when it’s time, but you’re torturing yourself, accelerating your own withering.”
He said.
“The tighter you grasp the sand, the faster it slips away. You’re wrong, and taking things too far becomes obsession and stubbornness, which is just being stubborn and unyielding.”
The wind and snow outside seemed to intensify, gradually changing from gentle to a violent blizzard. The windows groaned under the pressure with terrifying creaking sounds.
The entire cabin swayed precariously.
Two years after Keketuohai, Bei Jiao’s gaze was cold as he looked down at her, his eyes devoid of warmth, filled only with the sharpness of interrogation.
She woke up.
Opening her eyes, she was drenched in cold sweat.
Meeting a pair of curious light-colored eyes, she was startled, lifting her head from his lap, nearly rolling off in a scramble.
Just as she raised her hand to hastily wipe her eyes to ensure there were no strange liquids, she heard Chun ask, “Did you have a nightmare? You looked so unsettled in your sleep, like you were being scolded harshly—Are you hungry? I brought you some cake?”
The girl’s voice was soft and warm, quickly pulling Jiang Ran from the crumbling wooden cabin in her dream back to reality. She blinked, looking around with lingering fear—
“What’s wrong?” Chun asked curiously, “Are you looking for something?”
“…No.”
The woman rasped, her waist giving way as she leaned back against the bench. Whether it was a sense of loss or relief, she could only comfort herself:
No wonder it was a dream. That wild dog with terrible language skills, even if scolding her, how could he possibly say such poetic and reasonable things?
“How did you get here?”
“Oh, the crazy coach was worried and sent me to check on you and bring lunch. There are a lot of people at the resort during National Day, afraid you wouldn’t be able to get a meal…” Chun looked at the cold noodles beside her, “His worries were justified, Princess Pea.”
The pea princess who couldn’t sleep on a hard bed, of course, couldn’t eat instant noodles.
“…”
Jiang Ran rubbed her face, checking the time on her phone. She had only slept for less than forty minutes, but suddenly felt more energetic than when she left home in the morning.
Sniffing her nose, she seemed to still be able to smell the cheap laundry detergent that comforted her in her dream…
But she had just been sleeping in Chun’s arms, and Chun didn’t use that brand of detergent; it was a different scent.
Could it be that she just wanted to be hugged?
Jiang Ran was full of question marks in her mind. At this moment, Chun pulled out a cake and takeout from her backpack, “Come on, let’s eat. After eating, I’ll accompany you to practice again.”
Jiang Ran instinctively wanted to refuse, saying it wasn’t necessary.
However, at this moment, the image of the cold, black-haired young man from her dream staring at her and questioning why she was torturing herself popped into her mind—
She shivered, as if the person saying those words was squatting behind a column in Rongchuang, glaring at her menacingly.
She blinked, almost without thinking, she accepted the food from her teammate’s hands and obediently said, “Okay.”
Chun: “…”
This was the first time Jiang Ran had agreed without the need for much persuasion.
Chun was a bit shocked—
Could this be love?
She didn’t even know he had been here, yet she was willing to eat properly!
…Xie Yu, it’s not that your sister is cursing you, but you really can pack up and go home now, right?
Possibly because the noodles were too bad, Jiang Ran accepted the food from her teammate, ate the cake, and finished most of the rice.
She ate in a refined yet quick manner. By the time Chun barely snapped out of her shock, she was slowly wiping her mouth. When she looked up and saw the captain staring at her in disbelief, she raised one eyebrow.
Chun: “…Nothing.”
It’s just that you’ve eaten about three days’ worth of lunch in the past.
Jiang Ran rested for ten minutes, picked up her board, and said, “Let’s go to the ski resort?”
Before Chun could answer, she suddenly muttered, “Wait,” and under the strange gaze of the former, she picked up her racing board, returned to the locker, opened it, put the racing board inside, and carefully took out the Gray Red Tree, which had been stored away and seemed to be sealed.
She threw the racing hard boots into the locker and changed into soft boots.
When Jiang Ran, now dressed in the familiar style of general technical skiing, appeared in front of Chun, she was even a bit stunned, staring at the woman in front of her for a while without speaking…
The pea princess in yellow racing hard boots, holding the racing board, was undoubtedly the most beautiful in the parallel giant slalom world. But now, holding a regular carving board, she seemed to finally overlap with the Jiang Ran from three months ago, who wore soft boots, passed through the gates quickly, and caused a chorus of marmot screams in the WeChat group…
At that time, Jiang Ran was high and mighty, her eyes sparkling with mischief, trampling the dignity of the male team members under her feet.
But later, her eyes gradually lost their light.
“Shall we go?” Jiang Ran switched the carving board to her other hand, “It’s a holiday. I’ve decided to take a break for myself today. I won’t ride in hard boots anymore.”
“Oh,” said Chun. “Okay.”
For the rest of the afternoon, the advanced slopes at Sunac offered a rare spectacle witnessed by many: hardboot and softboot snowboarders racing side by side—
They saw professional team members compress and fold under steep binding angles, leaving deep grooves carved into the snow;
They also witnessed the potential of Gray Red Mangrove boards, as the wide and heavy boards leapt high like massive doors, performing high-speed flatland tricks to skillfully navigate over the deep grooves left by the racing boards, which could otherwise hinder a rider’s glide…
Someone on the chairlift recorded a video of Jiang Ran and Chun riding side by side and uploaded it online with the caption, “Gods of Snowboarding Descend to Harbin,” unintentionally going viral with hundreds of thousands of likes.
It nearly made it onto the trending topics list.
Among the top comments were praises like “Snowboarding looks so cool, I want to learn!” and “Girls can ride this well too!” but the rest were—
[It’s Jiang Ran! (sparkling eyes)]
[Let me explain to everyone: the rider on the snowboard with a red base is Jiang Ran. As you can see, she’s a girl!]
[@BC Team&Gray Big Ranran, here she is! You’re welcome for tagging you.]
[Before I clicked in, seeing the location was Sunac in Harbin, I already knew I was probably going to see Jiang Ran, so I clicked—and it was her! Mwahahaha!]
…
It was nearly dark when Jiang Ran finally returned home.
As she opened the door, she smelled the aroma of food wafting through the house. Wondering whether Li Xingnan had visited or Qiu Nian had transformed into a decent cook, she saw Qiu Nian emerging from the kitchen carrying a pot of porridge, thick gloves on her hands.
After placing the pot on the table, Qiu Nian peeked inside, seemingly satisfied with what she saw. Then she looked up and, as if just noticing Jiang Ran’s return, smiled with her eyes: “You’re back! Had a lot of fun this afternoon, huh? I saw the video!”
Without waiting for Jiang Ran to reply, she continued, “Wash your hands and eat! I made you sea worm porridge—it’s super nourishing!”
Sea worm porridge is a seafood porridge made with fresh sandworms, sea cucumbers, and scallops, sweet and savory in flavor—beloved by Cantonese people.
Jiang Ran raised an eyebrow, changed into slippers, and walked over to the pot to take a look. After a moment of silence, she asked, “Did you order takeout, or did Li Xingnan come by?”
She didn’t believe Qiu Nian could cook anything decent. They had known each other long enough for Jiang Ran to know exactly how bad Qiu Nian’s cooking was—she wasn’t blind.
“Hehe!” Qiu Nian handed an empty bowl to Jiang Ran and sprinkled chopped green onions into the steaming porridge right in front of her. “I just followed Li Xingnan’s instructions through a video call!”
She even showed Jiang Ran the video call history with Li Xingnan—lasting about two or three hours in the afternoon, ending just around dinnertime.
Jiang Ran remained half-convinced.
But the sea worm porridge tasted really good, reminding her of Bei Jiao staying at her house once. He had pulled dried sandworms from her fridge and directed her to cook an entire sea worm feast—
From porridge to garlic-steamed sea worms, fried dried sea worms, and various other dishes, filling the entire table.
At the time, she had teased him that if he ever failed to become a doctor, he could always become a chef—after all, both wore white coats.
Because of that, Bei Jiao rolled his eyes at her and scooped a big bowl of rice, hoping to shut her up with food.
…She seemed to have thought of him again unintentionally.
Jiang Ran realized she had been thinking about Bei Jiao way too often today—every move she made seemed to trigger a memory of him.
The presence of that dead dog was resurrecting like a curse this day. It shouldn’t be this way. During the National Day holiday, shouldn’t yang energy be strong and vibrant?
“Did you eat properly at lunch?” Qiu Nian’s voice pulled her back to reality, interrupting unnecessary fantasies. “Don’t tell me you just had a couple of bites of instant noodles and called it lunch?”
She was almost spot on.
But the plot took a positive turn later.
“My teammate brought me food. I had a piece of cake, half a pot of claypot rice, and drank half a bottle of soda.”
Jiang Ran pointed at the half-empty soda bottle she had brought back and placed casually on the table.
She slowly finished a bowl of porridge, then, under Qiu Nian’s astonished gaze, served herself another bowl voluntarily. The fragrant, steaming seafood porridge comforted her stomach after rolling and flipping around on the snow all afternoon, sending warmth through her limbs.
“You’re doing pretty well today,” Qiu Nian muttered. “Not only did you eat properly, but you even took out that dusty carving board from the cabinet and put it back into action. What’s going on? Did you get inspired all of a sudden?”
…She had a very artistic dream.
Of course, Jiang Ran wouldn’t tell Qiu Nian that her ex-boyfriend had appeared in her dream as Aslan or Dumbledore, adopting a savior-like posture to scold her, yet somehow clearing up her confused mind.
Jiang Ran cupped her bowl with both hands, eating attentively.
The taste of the porridge felt very familiar, as if transporting her back to the dining table of that apartment in Guangzhou, where a young boy pointed at the pot of porridge and threatened her not to think about dieting, to eat properly—otherwise, it would disrespect both the chef and the food.
“This porridge tastes familiar. Bei Jiao made it too,” Jiang Ran replied slowly, not really answering the question. “It’s very similar.”
Qiu Nian didn’t press her further, maintaining a calm expression: “Thanks for the compliment. Li Xingnan was worried I wouldn’t do well. I’ll let him know later that my cooking has been acknowledged—I’ve now reached a level comparable to that dog.”
“…”
Jiang Ran put down her bowl, stood up, and walked around the room.
Of course, she found nothing.
Back at the table, Qiu Nian was picking her teeth, looking completely unfazed. “Looking for something? Should I help you find it?”
“…Never mind.”
“Neurotic.”
That night, Jiang Ran finished three bowls of porridge.
Then she hurriedly washed up and climbed into bed at 9:30 PM, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sleepiness.
As she closed her eyes, her mind filled with fragmented, disjointed thoughts, Jiang Ran knew she would probably fall asleep soon… the tiredness settling in her brain, along with the clear joy of regaining control on the slopes and reclaiming the initiative while carving, walking hand in hand with drowsiness.
Jiang Ran turned over, feeling drowsy.
That night, she slept as if she had just returned to Earth from the farthest reaches of the universe, vaguely feeling as though the past few months had been like sleepwalking. Her entire body ached, too tired to even lift a finger…
She opened her eyes again the next afternoon at 2 PM.
She had slept dreamlessly for over twelve hours.
…
The National Day holiday was long.
Although she had more or less accepted that life should balance work and rest, and not obsess over dead ends, Jiang Ran didn’t give up going to the slopes during the break.
But more often than not, she didn’t stick to hardboots, choosing instead to ride either hardboots or softboots based on her mood.
Yet, when walking past the crowds actively responding to the slogan “Three Hundred Million People on Ice and Snow,” and seeing the curious glances they cast her way, Jiang Ran realized she no longer needed to be someone hiding behind a wall, desperately clinging to it trying to eavesdrop on the joy of those outside.
Snowboarding should be a matter of “As long as I ride fast enough, my troubles can’t catch up with me.”
After she relaxed, Jiang Ran started eating and sleeping normally. She didn’t feel like doing so immediately brought progress or any noticeable change—until the fifth, when the National Day holiday was nearing its end and the training team resumed regular practice.
Early in the morning, Jiang Ran carried her board and chatted with the young girls from the women’s team as they entered the cold locker room… along with some others who also rode carving boards. Jiang Ran’s gaze swept past Chun’s shoulder and, finding few familiar faces, she withdrew her eyes.
More and more people were taking up snowboarding, and the snowboarding circle no longer felt like that small, tight-knit community where everyone knew each other’s names.
Taking advantage of the good snow conditions, they casually warmed up with a couple of runs. Then the training staff arrived, carrying a pile of gates, and called for everyone to help set them up.
Jiang Ran wanted to join in but was held back by her teammates, who made her sit on a chair at the top of the mountain. A girl named Song Song, nicknamed “Timid Timid,” who went by “Galactic Beauty” in the group chat, said, “Don’t let the snow from the drill machine hit your face!”
Jiang Ran: “Every part of my face is real—I don’t mind getting hit.”
Song Song: “No arguing—just stay seated.”
Jiang Ran: “…”
So Jiang Ran removed her board and went to sit aside, idly watching the tourists on the slopes that day. As time passed, the number of people on the slopes gradually increased…
Jiang Ran’s gaze was drawn to someone carrying a board onto the chairlift and off it again—
He was holding a rental snowboard from Sunac, and his helmet, boots, and jacket were all rentals too—a textbook beginner’s “chicken quartet.”
What was strange was that his goggles were the new M4 model from Burton this year.
Why was she watching him? Of course, not because of the goggles.
It was just that few people could make the rental snowsuit from Sunac, which was hideous to begin with, look even slightly different.
He was tall, and even in the red-and-black loose snowsuit, his broad shoulders were still visible, along with a hint of a perfect waist-to-hip ratio…
The Sunac snowboard in his elbow looked like a toy.
After getting off the chairlift, he walked toward the slope where Jiang Ran was. At that moment, Jiang Ran was bending over, massaging her calf muscles, when, unintentionally, her profile caught his gaze—
Or at least, what seemed like his gaze.
He was wearing a face mask, and his goggles had reflective lenses, so his face was completely covered. Jiang Ran couldn’t see his eyes at all.
She just felt like he was looking at her.
She moved her lips slightly, about to politely offer a smile, when the beginner unhesitatingly turned his head away and threw his snowboard down, starting to strap in.
Jiang Ran: “…”
The rest of the time, Jiang Ran kept watching him, seeing him confidently finish strapping in, then slowly inch toward the edge of the slope. When he reached the edge, he paused, hesitated slightly, and looked down at the slope below, apparently finding it a bit steep.
Then he started his heel-side traverse.
Slowly, like a bulldozer, he pushed down the slope.
Jiang Ran: “…”
At this point, Jiang Ran turned her gaze away—now she understood why he was so heavily covered up. Men cared about their image; someone with such a physique might be a heartthrob, used to being surrounded by admirers and praised. How could he bear being a clumsy beginner in the snowboarding world?
It was all about image.
As the image-conscious beginner was halfway through his traverse, Jiang Ran was called by Nie Xin—the gates were set, and today’s training was about to begin.
Jiang Ran stood up. From the corner of her eye, she felt the beginner on the mid-slope glance back at her, but when she reflexively looked over, he seemed not to be looking at her at all. His back of the head was facing her as he focused intently on the slope below, continuing his traverse.
She could only turn her gaze back—
Recently, her whole lifestyle had relaxed, and if there was any downside, it was that whenever she had free time, she became paranoid, always feeling like someone was secretly watching her from every corner.
…As if she were possessed.
Jiang Ran moved to the starting gate, listening to her teammates chattering around her. The young girls’ voices were youthful and lively. Somewhere in the crowd, someone shouted, “Post-holiday rehab—today will be a good day if someone can clock in under 35 seconds!”
Nie Xin cursed at the group, wondering if any of them could ever qualify for the Winter Olympics, and everyone burst into laughter.
Amid the laughter, Nie Xin started the timer for Jiang Ran, and she took off.
Nothing was different from before—folding, choosing the route—but after not touching the gates for several consecutive days, she wasn’t very skilled at navigating them. She made wide turns through the first three gates, and by the second-to-last gate, she even slipped slightly, nearly sliding out of control—
When she finally managed to round the last gate and let her board glide down the intermediate slope, she was making mid-turns, her hands lightly brushing the snow, half-heartedly calculating in her mind that this run was full of flaws, with a poor line and a slip. She estimated she might clock in at a shocking turtle-like time of 38 seconds, enough to infuriate Nie Xin.
Yet she herself didn’t feel particularly upset. She even had the leisure to slide over to the diligent beginner nearby, who was steadily pushing along the slope, and show him a carved mid-turn—
Hoping he’d be impressed by her skill.
After all, with such a tall build, he might as well try carving.
Jiang Ran quickly got back on the chairlift. She was sliding so fast that she couldn’t see, when she reached the bottom of the slope and bent down to unstrap her board, the beginner had stopped pushing and, with a shift of pressure under his feet, accelerated—
With both edges, he followed almost exactly the same posture as hers, sliding down the same mid-turn along the tracks she had just left.
Two carved tracks ran side by side on the snow, as neatly aligned as two parallel lines.
…
Nie Xin checked the stopwatch, expressionless, and dropped a heavy bomb: “Not bad. The National Day break didn’t go to waste. You almost made a trending topic promoting snowboarding, and you didn’t slack off on hardboot training. 33 seconds! Let’s aim for 31 today.”
Jiang Ran had been bending down, scraping snow off her board with her snow card, when she froze completely, then looked up in confusion still holding the snow card and asked, “What?!”
Nie Xin: “Yes, honey, 33 seconds.”
Jiang Ran screamed: “Ah!!!!!!!!!!”
Nie Xin: “Only 33 seconds.”
Jiang Ran screamed again: “Aaaaaaahhhhh!!”
Nie Xin: “…Alright, alright, we know you improved. Next round, keep pushing.”
As Jiang Ran, acting like a sixteen-year-old girl, stood there hopping excitedly on the spot holding her snow card, the chairlift delivered another beginner wearing Sunac’s rental snowsuit. The beginner dropped his board and stood aside, turning his head to watch her jumping up and down from behind.
When Jiang Ran returned to the team, he withdrew his gaze and bent down to strap on his board.
Chun and the others obviously noticed this male model with subpar snowboarding skills and chatted about him idly—
Chun: “He pushes so skillfully on his back edge!”
Song Song: “Doesn’t he ever get tired crouching like that to push uphill?”
Jiang Ran: “How could he not be tired?”
Chun: “If I didn’t train today, I’d teach him how to switch edges for free.”
Song Song: “You didn’t even see what he looks like, and you’d do it for free?”
Chun: “Didn’t you see his waist? When the lights are off, it’s all the same—only the waist matters.”
Jiang Ran: “…”
Song Song: “How long is he going to keep pushing on his back edge? He’s damn good already, he should change positions now.”
Song Song’s voice was a bit loud. Whether or not he was overheard, at that moment, the person diligently pushing on his back edge suddenly stopped and sat down on the spot.
Like a bear rolling on the ground, he struggled to flip over, then slowly turned his body uphill, switching to pushing uphill on his front edge.
Jiang Ran: “…”
Jiang Ran nearly died laughing in Chun’s arms.
As they joked around, almost everyone completed their first round of training for the day. Nie Xin had recorded everyone’s data on the tablet in her arms, and then proceeded to scold those who hit poles, slipped out, or wobbled their way through with a time of 39 seconds.
Ten minutes later.
Jiang Ran stood back on the starting platform. The snowboard beneath her feet felt heavy. She took a deep breath, calmed her mind, and began calculating her route—
When she wore soft boots, she was extremely familiar with how to plan her route.
But today, she needed to think about how, after alternating between soft and hard boots these days, she had gradually adapted to the differences in power, edge, and speed between the two types of boots and boards.
From her earlier run, which she thought went poorly but actually broke her previous best record, she could guess that, without realizing it, she had gradually begun to integrate the two styles rather than keeping them separate—
“Ready!” Nie Xin’s voice rang out behind her. “Go!”
Jiang Ran pushed off the handrail with both hands and shot forward like an arrow—
She accelerated into the first turn, staying as close to the pole as possible, pushing her speed to the maximum.
In the second turn, she adjusted her route, folded her body, applied pressure to the board, kept her center of gravity balanced, and bent her legs to apply pressure to the front-right side of the board.
She was extremely close to the ground, because her edge angle was so high that she was practically gliding on the surface—
Mid-turn, she switched edges directly to her back edge, her shoulders brushing and hugging the pole as she slid—this was a rhythm she was very familiar with!
She was fast!
This time, even she could feel it. The snowboard beneath her feet was no longer heavy and uncontrollable. It wasn’t the board carrying her anymore—it was her controlling the board, guiding it along any route she wanted, at any speed she desired!
The cold wind brushed against her cheeks, her black hair braided into a thick ponytail flying in the wind. She could hear the wind roaring past her ears—
After passing the last gate, she pushed off the board and braked sharply, sending up a high wall of snow. Then she turned her head eagerly to look up the slope at the people above.
Up on the hill, a group surrounded Nie Xin, pulling at his hands, all trying to see the stopwatch in his hand. Nie Xin, stuck in the middle, looked annoyed beyond tolerance. Yet, from this distance, Jiang Ran could almost see him smiling.
Song Song waved at her from far away!
Chun snatched the stopwatch from Nie Xin.
Another young girl in the team stood with her hands on her hips, leaning forward and shouting down to Jiang Ran at the end of the advanced slope: “29 seconds!!! 29 seconds!!! You’re amazing!!! Big Sis Pea!!!”
Hmm.
29 seconds.
She made it.
…
When Qiu Nian received Jiang Ran’s excited report, complete with shrieks of joy, she was leaning by her home oven, slowly roasting sweet potatoes.
Holding a baking tongs, she carefully flipped the sweet potatoes, which were bubbling with syrup, and lazily said, “Mmm, well done, well done! What time are you finishing practice? Don’t work overtime today, I’ve roasted sweet potatoes. I’ll keep the oven warm for you when you get back—it tastes best when it’s hot.”
In October, Harbin’s nights were already near freezing, so warm roasted sweet potatoes were the perfect choice.
“Okay, no overtime! Aaaah, too bad no one recorded me! Otherwise I’d show you how cool I looked passing the gates in hard boots! Ah, whatever, I couldn’t even appreciate my own stylish moves in hard boots!”
The voice on the phone was chatty and brimming with excitement—the most energetic she’d been in three months.
Qiu Nian switched the phone to the other ear, rubbing the eardrum that had been tickled by her shouting, “Oh, hahahaha! It’s fine. I’ve seen you snowboard for so many years, nothing new here!”
“How come you’re not even a little bit disappointed!”
“Disappointed? Don’t be ridiculous.”
As she said this, Qiu Nian couldn’t help but smile…
Actually, she had seen it.
After hanging up, sitting by the oven, the sweet scent of roasted sweet potatoes filled the air, and the syrupy sounds of the roasting potatoes “sizzled” in her ears. Qiu Nian slowly opened another person’s chat window. The person had sent a video—
The footage was shot from the cable car, offering a bird’s-eye view. It distinctly captured the state-of-the-art slope gates at Rongchuang. The young woman’s gaze was intently focused, her snowboard slicing through the snow beneath her with the effortless grace of a swordsman riding the wind. She executed a turn, lightly brushing past the pole—
Her outside elbow lifted slightly as she passed, a habitual motion she used to borrow momentum.
Her powerful legs propelled the board into the air for a second, swiftly switching to the next edge!
Her shoulder hit the pole along the practiced gate line with a loud, crisp “snap.”
Her black braid flew up in the air.
Every movement she made was composed and confident.
Qiu Nian curled her lips into a smile, saved the video, and forwarded it to Li Xingnan and Aju, before typing a message to the person who sent it—
Nian Nian: Spent days trekking uphill just to capture this one clip… What dedication! Wildlife photographers crouching in the grasslands waiting for lions and elephants couldn’t be more committed.
【Bei Jiao: ……………… They still laugh at me for pushing uphill. At least a lioness doesn’t talk this much?】
Qiu Nian couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Nian Nian: Who told you to keep pushing uphill? Have you ever seen anyone treat pushing uphill like plowing a field? If Jiamusi’s spring plowing season arrives, you should definitely be the one to take charge. Next year, rice prices nationwide might drop a few cents per kilogram because hundreds more acres were planted?
【Nian Nian: Why so obedient? At least switch edges once in a while!】
【Bei Jiao: ?】
【Bei Jiao: I can’t help it. If I switch edges even slightly, she’ll recognize me in a second, even if I dress like a tourist.】
【Bei Jiao: The public helmets at Rongchuang smell terrible, and the boots are filthy too.】
【Bei Jiao: No way, I’m dirty now. I need to find a public bathhouse and shed a layer of skin later.】
【Nian Nian: …】
Qiu Nian sent a voice call to the guy who kept muttering “I’m dirty” and asked when he was going back.
“Not sure yet?” On the other end of WeChat, the young man, having just completed a great mission, sounded slow and relaxed, probably sitting on the cable car with a bit of wind noise, “Probably tonight? It’s already the 5th. I haven’t done a single test paper these past few days. I’ll have to study hard when I get back.”
“Oh, did you fall behind on your studies?”
“Huh? No.” Bei Jiao said, “How dare you say that Jiang Ran, the god, isn’t my top priority?”
Qiu Nian felt a little sour for a moment, thinking how lucky it was to be young. She doubted she’d ever get to hear such words unless she was reborn and met Li Xingnan before high school.
“Don’t you want to see her before you leave?”
“…No.”
“Snail Girl.”
Qiu Nian changed her sitting position and, after a moment’s thought, voiced her confusion: “I thought you’d grab her and scold her the moment you arrived, then drag her home, pin her down to make her sleep, and finally give her a psychological education class lasting the entire National Day holiday.”
But he didn’t.
Qiu Nian was very curious about this. However, when she asked the question, there was a long silence on the other end of the phone. In the background, she faintly heard the music from the Rongchuang refrigerator and the young man’s light breathing.
After a long pause, his slightly lowered voice, carrying a sigh, finally spoke.
“At first, that’s exactly what I wanted to do. But that day at Rongchuang, when I caught her, she was crying over a bowl of instant noodles, crying like the most pitiful person in the world.”
“And what could I say? I already said everything there was to say back in Keketuohai.”
“You know what? She’s done this twice now—the first time was in Keketuohai. Full of anticipation, eager to return to the competition, yet too afraid to admit she wanted to compete, to win…like a child holding a stack of cash, standing outside a shop window staring at the cake they want, yet too scared to push open the door and ask the price.”
“Now she’s made the same mistake again, as if life must always be smooth sailing, without a single setback, or else she gets lost—But where in the world is such a place? Life is full of all kinds of difficulties. But so what? Can’t we live just because we’re afraid of setbacks? Even if in the next life you’re not born human, wild animals in the forest have their own troubles too.”
“The first time, someone could patiently push her and coax her to give it a try…But the second time? Should it be the same? Then there will definitely be a third.”
He paused.
“I don’t want that.”
“If a person always gets lost, falling and bruising her head at every crossroads, or panicking at the slightest breeze, treating it like a flood or a beast attack…then she must learn that she can’t rely on pathfinders waiting by the roadside, nor should she expect kind-hearted people to rescue her from trouble. She must become a bird herself, flying up, soaring to the highest, unreachable skies, where she can clearly see the path beneath her feet.”
“On that day, she will never get lost again.”
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