Liang He would probably never have imagined in her life that her momentary outburst allowed someone, who was supposed to embarrass herself, to shine brilliantly instead.
Someone on the mountain top sighed, “Damn it, which window did God close for her?” This left Liang He pale upon clearly hearing this. In comparison, her own few shouts and schadenfreude suddenly made her look like the real jester.
—Isn’t it ridiculous to hastily deny others without even remembering the track data clearly?
Over the years of skiing, she had met many people. Although they weren’t always the top skiers surrounding Jiang Ran, there were still quite a few. Usually, in such situations, someone would definitely come to comfort her. But right now, looking around, not a single person approached to ease her embarrassment—
After all, what could they possibly say?
Would they force themselves to say: “It’s okay, she’s not that good actually?”
But that was data comparable to the Winter Olympics, something she herself had said.
Compared to traditional terrain park events like big air, U-pipe, or slopestyle, there might be other major competitions, such as the X-Games, more recognized by insiders than the Winter Olympics—
But for parallel giant slalom, the Winter Olympics was essentially its highest stage.
All the top experts would only appear on that stage, on that list.
Jiang Ran’s achievements, being recognized on such a world stage, made her incomparable.
Her phone kept vibrating in her pocket. Liang He took it out with slightly stiff hands, instinctively checking the screen. Someone had mentioned her in a group chat: “If I were you, I’d already feel ashamed for fouling, I wouldn’t keep acting out until someone slapped me on the left cheek, and then insist on offering the right one for another slap, right?”
In an instant, her blood seemed to reverse flow, her head buzzed, her limbs went numb, and her mind went blank. Lifting her head to look at the distant snowy mountains, everything seemed white and as if it could swallow everything whole…
Her usually somewhat pretty face flushed red, then turned deathly pale.
She trembled as she pressed the exit group button, hastily scanning through the phone to see numerous unread messages.
She had joined too many skiing friends’ groups, and she was afraid to imagine how everyone was laughing at her behind her back—
Or even, like the person who mentioned her, not even behind her back.
Her lips trembled slightly.
She lowered her head, and large tears rolled down from her eyes. She couldn’t even understand how things had come to this…
…
The so-called exhibition match was followed by lunchtime.
After Jiang Ran took off her board and handed it to a staff member, she removed her snow jacket, shook off the snow, and wearing stiff competition shoes, stepped into the cable car to go down the mountain for lunch.
Once on the cable car, she exhaled a puff of white breath, muttering, “So cold,” and rubbed her stiff face.
As the cable car started, her phone in the snow jacket pocket vibrated like crazy. Jiang Ran clumsily took it out from the pocket with slightly uncoordinated fingers.
First were messages from friends and family—
[Qiu Nian: ……………………………… I heard today Tonghua became Miss Jiang’s personal stage. What happened? I just had lunch for a while, and when I checked my phone again, you were practically crowned?]
[Li Xingnan: 👍 It’s still not too late to join the ranking competition. I won’t watch the Winter Olympics without you.]
[A Ju: Sister, you’re awesome hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! The blood and sweat you’ve shed at Harun will not disappoint anyone! Great job!]
[Zhao Keyan: Alright, you’ve definitely surpassed me now, but no big deal. There are six hundred million male compatriots who’ve been surpassed along with me.]
[Big Head: Ran Jie, you’ve ascended the throne! Long live the queen!]
Then there were various group chats—
Almost all the prominent figures in China’s carving circle were gathered here today.
About half an hour ago.
They were enthusiastically discussing Beijiao’s twelfth place in the group, sharing slow-motion videos and GIFs, praising this rising star from all 360-degree angles, and wildly speculating about his mentor based on his movement details…
Someone even asked if that elbow-lifting habit during edge changes was the same small gesture as the carving god Hirako Kazunori, implying maybe…
Immediately someone countered that people had long suspected and even asked Beige if he knew Japanese, and he said he didn’t, not even a bit.
Then, half an hour later, now.
People didn’t realize they had successfully shifted topics, actually already seriously discussing Beijiao’s mentor (.)
The girls in the group were excited, playing a chain message game with “Tremble, men.”
Then Jiang Ran saw her own competition videos from various angles, along with all sorts of “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh,” during which someone who didn’t understand what was going on had to be explained the situation by those who were present…
The guys didn’t understand all the subtleties, just commenting on Liang He: “Is that girl bored or something?” But girls understood girls best. One girl, after hearing that, sneered coldly: “Could be other reasons, who knows? We’re all girls, some girls just never think about giving other successful girls a break.”
A while later, someone else said: “Ah, she left the group:)”
It was then that Jiang Ran realized Liang He was also in some overlapping groups.
After skimming through the group chat and replying to her friends’ private messages, she finally scrolled down and noticed Nie Xin had sent a weak and faint private message—
[Nie Xin: From December to mid-January, there are six World Cup qualifying stops and seven races. Want me to take you to practice?]
Jiang Ran replied with a string of “……”, then put her phone away.
As the phone dropped into her pocket, she slumped against Song Song beside her. Her lowered eyes and tightly pressed lips clearly showed her bad mood.
This was somewhat unexpectedly intense.
Song Song clapped her hands in front of her. “Whoa!” she exclaimed, “Is anyone home!”
Startled, Jiang Ran’s shoulders jolted, lifting her head in confusion, her face pale—
But purely from the cold.
She had come today as a judge, not to compete, so she hadn’t brought a face mask. Her helmet, goggles, and gloves were all borrowed from another girl sponsored by Gray at the event. Her board and shoes were brought up from the hotel by someone else.
Her face mask was stuffed in her suitcase; she’d have to search for it herself, so she didn’t want to bother the staff running errands. She braved the cold and went up the mountain, and while skiing, she took a mouthful of snow.
The mountain wasn’t windy today, but she skied fast, and the wind felt like knives slicing across her face.
It hurt.
Song Song was also confused by her bewildered appearance, “Right now the whole world outside this cable car is cheering for you, yet you look like a ghost—”
Could it be that you feel sorry for that girl who criticized you harshly?
At that moment, Song Song made up her mind: if Jiang Ran really thought that way, she would slap her.
But to her surprise, the woman sitting beside her sighed slowly, turning her head to look outside the cable car at the gently falling snow: “It’s so cold today. I really didn’t want to ski at all.”
Song Song: “Huh?”
Jiang Ran: “What did I do wrong? She fouled first, so why did I end up skiing in such terrible snow on such a freezing day just to entertain everyone like a monkey show?”
Song Song: “…”
Looking down at the person leaning against her, her nose and cheeks were flushed red from the cold, her lips dry and chapped from the freezing wind, her long black hair slightly disheveled and soft against her shoulders…
Her brows were furrowed, her face pale, looking pitiful, radiating a sense of spoiled sorrow as if she had truly been bullied.
This was a stark contrast to her fearless, unstoppable image while riding the competition board.
Song Song was quite confused: “What are you being so dramatic about?”
Jiang Ran turned sideways, burying her icy face into Song Song’s warm neck, whimpering: “Because I really shouldn’t have to endure this unexpected disaster—my face is about to crack from the cold, and now it’s starting to itch. I hope I don’t get frostbite tomorrow? My face hurts, my mouth is cold, and I don’t even want to come to the afternoon competition.”
Song Song placed her hand on Jiang Ran’s shoulder and patted it.
After hesitating a bit, she softened her touch, patting again in a comforting way.
It felt a bit absurd thinking that if all those people watching the drama knew right now that the person they saw as triumphant and victorious after humiliating someone else actually didn’t care about any of that, but was only busy worrying, “Why did I impulsively go along and act like a monkey?” and regretting it deeply…
She wondered what they would think.
From another perspective, this could probably be considered a kind of “humble bragging”—
Not caring whether others live or die, only focused on oneself.
…
After returning to the dining hall, they handed over their phones as usual. The aroma of food was already wafting through the air.
In accordance with the basic principle of promoting the ski resort, and to prevent anger from confiscating phones upon entering the equipment hall, the resort promised free meals for all participants and staff during this competition.
As they walked toward the dining area, the warm indoor air quickly warmed Jiang Ran’s hands and feet. Her circulation improved, bringing some color back to her pale face.
While picking up their trays for food, Song Song couldn’t help grabbing Jiang Ran’s hand for the third time as she reached toward her face: “Stop scratching!”
Jiang Ran growled a low, irritated sound from deep in her throat as her wrist was caught.
She just felt her chin was itchy, unable to resist scratching, each time harder than the last, even leaving faint scratch marks on her jawline from her own nails.
—Some people from southern China always think the cold in the north is dry cold, a physical attack only on the surface, nothing to worry about.
But after walking through northern forests and feeling the mountain winds, one would know there’s no point distinguishing between dry and wet cold. The wind cuts like knives and can be deadly.
At this moment, her entire face felt unbearably itchy and burning, as if experiencing an allergic reaction, leaving her extremely uncomfortable—back when she was little, her father was working hard overseas, leaving only a butler and servants at home who couldn’t provide meticulous care. Consequently, she once suffered from frostbite.
On her hands, she had naively gone out to build a snowman with her friends in the snow, and that night her hands itched unbearably.
A few days later, her hands swelled up like bloated radishes. Jiang Hua Min laughed heartlessly, “Even got frostbite from that?” In the end, it was Jiang Ran’s grandfather who roasted a white radish over fire and pressed the scalding radish onto her hands. The next day, the swelling miraculously went down—
Both the frostbite and the pain from the scalding radish were deeply etched into Jiang Ran’s heart.
She dared not imagine what would happen if such torture came to her face—would she still have the courage to survive this winter?
After getting her lunch placed on the table, she wanted to check how her face looked. Without a mirror or her phone, she had to desperately lean over to the reflective surface of the fire extinguisher to take a look…
She vaguely saw her chin, smeared like a cat’s face, and her expression turned darker than charcoal.
Sitting back at the table, she scooped a spoonful of steamed egg. As soon as it touched her lips, a sharp stinging pain shot through her mouth. Irritated, she threw the spoon away, thinking, “Well, this is ruined.”
Before she could figure out who to vent her anger at, the target of her frustration showed up on its own. Liang He, with swollen eyes, approached. Jiang Ran lifted her eyelids slightly to glance at her but didn’t say a word.
In reality, she was so annoyed she almost wanted to throw the plate at this woman’s face.
Song Song spoke for her: “What can I do for you now?”
Jiang Ran lowered her eyelids again. Right now, she really didn’t want to see her. Seeing her reminded her of her ridiculous performance—enough already.
“I… I just wanted to apologize,” Liang He stuttered. “I’m sorry, really sorry! I was just so angry and hot-headed, I said those thoughtless things—”
Jiang Ran was a bit impatient. She tried several times to get food into her mouth without touching her lips, but couldn’t do it elegantly. She finally gave up and threw the spoon away: “Aren’t all thoughtless words actually rehearsed hundreds of times in your head before they come out?”
Her voice was thin and cold.
Liang He’s tearful apology stopped abruptly.
“What good is your apology to me? Those people will still laugh at you anyway,” Jiang Ran said indifferently. “Do you expect me to jump in and ask them to leave you alone?”
Liang He stared at her wordlessly.
“…………… Are you crazy?” Jiang Ran was genuinely taken aback. “If I hadn’t skied well today, I would have been labeled a mere ornament. Would you have spoken up for me then?—No, because that was exactly your intention.”
She was in a bad mood, so her words came out harsher.
Unsurprisingly, Liang He started crying again.
Tears poured down her face. She cried until her face turned red, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, softly saying, “No, it’s not like that,” but sobbing so hard she couldn’t explain what she meant.
“Why are you crying? People who don’t know any better would think I bullied you.”
Jiang Ran was exasperated.
Song Song mechanically shoved a mouthful of rice into her mouth, thinking that Jiang Ran was acting out some domineering CEO script straight from a romance novel. The only issue was that the delicate little flower before her probably didn’t meet the audience’s expectations, and the female tyrant’s chin was scratched red and swollen, utterly devoid of intimidation—not to mention—
Uh.
Song Song’s gaze fixed on Jiang Ran’s lips.
She wanted to say something but hesitated, and the other didn’t notice.
Meanwhile, Liang He was still immersed in her performance.
“No, please, I really didn’t mean to, it was just a moment of anger!” she stammered. “Besides, Beijiao hasn’t spoken to me since the incident in Guangzhou last time—he even blocked me on WeChat—”
“…”
Jiang Ran understood.
“So it’s for him?”
Liang He’s sobbing sound paused briefly due to her strange question. This was tantamount to a confirmation.
Jiang Ran maintained her expressionless face, stood up, and casually grabbed some tissues from the table.
She was slightly taller than Liang He, so standing in front of her gave her a somewhat condescending air. She looked down at Liang He with lowered eyes, watching the tear-streaked mess on her face, pitiful and unbearable to look at. Jiang Ran raised her hand, hooked the chin of the still-sobbing girl, and gently wiped away her smudged makeup with the tissue.
The softness of her fingertips brushed across Liang He’s face, leaving her momentarily stunned.
“Me and him haven’t been in touch for a long time,” Jiang Ran said calmly. “If you want to pick a fight over a guy, I don’t mind. If you’re shallow and low-class, that’s your problem.”
She lowered her lashes, long and delicate, fluttering lightly.
“But you probably picked the wrong person.”
She pressed the tissue gently against the tears at the corner of Liang He’s eyes.
Her tone was gentle.
Only Liang He could feel how cold her fingertips were.
“But to be honest, I’ve never really liked you, not since the first day we met.”
Jiang Ran lowered her hand, her dark brown eyes calmly meeting the other girl’s wide, teary, rabbit-like gaze. “So even if he’s someone I’ve already discarded, someone I no longer want, don’t expect me to generously toss you a single bone.”
Each word fell like ice pellets, melting into a chilling coldness that soaked deep.
Liang He’s startled gaze flickered. At the same time, the hand holding her chin moved away.
Gently patting her cheek, Jiang Ran offered her a small smile.
Then she flicked her fingers lightly, as if brushing away something dirty or unlucky.
“Go on,” she said to the stunned girl. “You won’t get anything from me. Don’t waste your effort.”
Liang He seemed to be completely shaken, all her escape routes blocked.
She left in a daze, and Jiang Ran believed that someone like her would probably disappear from her sight forever—
If she wasn’t stupid, she’d realize that neither from Jiang Ran’s side nor from Beijiao’s, would her little schemes gain her any advantage.
Jiang Ran wasn’t susceptible to her tactics, and was far superior in actual strength.
As for Beijiao…
All of her moves were merely leftovers from the times he amused himself by teasing Song Die or any male around Jiang Ran.
Jiang Ran walked back around to the other side of the table.
Song Die was staring at her.
She lifted her eyelids slightly. “What are you staring at? Was I too harsh?”
“No,” Song Die hesitated. “Did you know your lips are bleeding? So fragile.”
“…”
Jiang Ran shot up from her seat in an instant, a hundred times more anxious than when she had just been confronted by the scheming girl.
…
In a corner of the cafeteria, everyone was on their lunch break, casually discussing the high-level parallel slalom performance they had just witnessed for free.
The main subject of their discussion strode past them, clearly in a hurry.
Jiang Ran rushed straight into the women’s restroom, tore off her mask, and dashed up to the mirror. She turned her head left and right, examining her lips in the mirror, letting out a sharp breath when she saw the bloody mess. For a moment, she didn’t even know where to begin.
She lowered her head, fumbling through her pockets somewhat clumsily.
The zipper on her snow jacket pocket had somehow jammed again. After struggling with it for a while, she finally managed to open it and pulled out her round lip balm container. When she looked up, she noticed someone had appeared behind her in the mirror.
Suddenly seeing another person startled her at first, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was none other than the culprit from earlier, standing there with lowered eyes behind her.
“This is the women’s restroom.”
“What happened to your lips?”
Two voices spoke at the same time—one cold and indifferent, the other low and husky, yet carrying a burning warmth.
“There’s blood all over your chin too,” he said calmly, looking at her. “Did you scratch yourself? That hard?”
At this moment, the dark-haired young man in front of Jiang Ran had taken off his snow jacket, wearing only a loose black hoodie with an oversized hood. The sleeves were long, pooling at his wrists, giving him a somewhat frail appearance.
—Though probably around seven hundred thousand people knew clearly that he was anything but frail.
Once the jacket was off, you could see nothing but solid muscle. His arms could probably swing three Song Dians like a swing.
Jiang Ran glanced at him, feeling an inexplicable annoyance.
…What tone was that? Was he so sure that the scratches on her face could only have come from her own hands?
What if it had been one of his rabid fans going crazy?
So certain.
Jiang Ran curled her lips in sarcasm, holding back her irritation as she turned around, pulled out a tissue, wet it, and began carefully wiping the dried blood from her lips.
“Song Die heard about what happened this morning and was so mad he was yelling. He sent me to check if you were okay, and if you were angry,” Beijiao paused. “To see if you were upset.”
The cold, metallic taste spread as she wiped, hissing through her teeth with each stroke, growing angrier with every pass…
How ridiculous.
Everyone thought she was riding high, triumphant and carefree, but in the end, only a seven-year-old child cared whether she was okay or angry—
She was.
She was angry.
She threw the blood-stained tissue into the trash with a “slap,” quickly turning around to glare at the person in front of her. Before she could shout at him to “get lost” in an even colder tone, he stepped forward.
She caught her breath instinctively and lowered her eyes.
But the familiar warmth that enveloped her lasted only a few seconds before retreating. She slightly furrowed her brows, only to see him now twirling her lip balm between his fingers.
“Give it back,” she said softly, “before I get really angry.”
Her voice carried undeniable authority.
Liang He had been frightened into almost forgetting how to walk when she left, all from that tone.
But the person in front of her remained completely unaffected. He continued to flip through the lip balm in his hands, checking the ingredients on the back label to see if it was suitable for damaged skin, then let out a soft scoff, his voice low and mellow: “When are you not angry?”
A mocking chuckle.
It sounded almost amused, even slightly exasperated.
Jiang Ran raised an eyebrow.
The next second, she saw this medical student, who had developed such good habits, pull out an alcohol wipe from somewhere as if performing magic, cleaned his hands, then flicked his fingers to pop open the lid of her lip balm.
He dipped his freshly sanitized fingers into the balm and leaned closer.
Before Jiang Ran could say “don’t come near me,” she instinctively stepped back first—
Her back hit the edge of the sink counter.
The familiar, fleeting warmth of his presence surrounded her again. The sharp jawline of the man in front of her hovered just above her line of sight.
“Don’t move.”
He said, “Let me help you with it.”
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