On her way home, Jiang Ran found herself temporarily unable to make sense of the complicated situation because her mind was buzzing. After tossing her ski bag onto the back seat of her car, she jumped in and instinctively locked the doors first.
It was fair to call her cowardly, but at that moment, her heart was pounding at nearly 120 beats per minute, as if ghosts were chasing her.
Sitting in the car, she tried to calm down. Yet, as soon as she quieted, the distinctive hoarse voice of the young black-haired man echoed in her ears—his voice was a unique blend of youthfulness and maturity.
[“I told you not to let me catch you again.”]
Cold sweat broke out on her forehead, her vision darkened periodically, and her legs felt weak. Her head hit the steering wheel, and she clung to it for ten minutes before skillfully calling a designated driver—
Safe driving is everyone’s responsibility; never drive emotionally.
During the ride, the driver attempted small talk but quickly gave up upon noticing the woman in the back seat looked as sour as poop.
Jiang Ran couldn’t help but use her phone to search for Bei Jiao’s short video app—
Previously, she had forced herself not to search or watch, but now she had completely given up. After all, forcing herself like this hadn’t made her life any better.
She just wanted to see what he was up to.
Bei Jiao’s short video app account had magically grown to 20,000 followers, and his most recent video had over 100,000 likes, clearly a breakout hit.
Jiang Ran clicked in and saw it was a video of him successfully landing a nollie 540°.
The entire video started with him transitioning from 360° to 540°—
It began with various fancy falls: forward rolls, backward rolls, sideways spins, and being flung sideways…
He could switch between five or six different falling styles in just a few seconds.
In the middle segment, he gradually stopped falling, and the 540° started to take shape. The snowboard began to spin mid-air, almost completing the rotation. A voiceover from Datou could be heard:
[“Wow, almost got it, but that was a scrape, doesn’t count!”]
Then came a series of edits: takeoff, rotation, pop, visual guidance—
For every simple step, he had at least a dozen different practice clips. Pieced together, it showed how much effort he had put into just one simple Nollie 540°.
Perhaps every move had been practiced countless times.
The final segment was a complete nollie 540°.
The black-haired young man carved rapidly downhill from the summit, approached the camera, compressed, rose, pressed the board, popped it, and shifted his gaze—
The snowboard sprang high into the air, spinning rapidly mid-flight. After completing the rotation, it landed heavily!
The voiceover was a chorus of cheers.
The video cut to black, and after two seconds of silence, a cute voiceover from Crayon Shin-chan said: [“Mission accomplished, Master.”]
If it had been before, Jiang Ran would have just watched it and moved on, thinking that this deceitful, wild dog was once again showing off his affection for his mysterious new master through his stunts, making her furious again…
But this time, she took a closer look and rewound the video to the first frame. She noticed the date on the first practice move he had edited. It was clearly recorded that this day was exactly when she had posted the 540° tutorial.
And Jiang Ran remembered that he had actually started practicing the 540° long before that.
Surprisingly, no one in the comments seemed to notice anything odd.
They were still shouting below, asking Bei Jiao to tag his master so they could admire and worship him, wanting to know which big name in the circle his divine master was.
[“It must be a ruthless and sharp expert. Who else would let their apprentice get beaten black and blue just for a 540°!”]
Jiang Ran: “…”
She slammed her phone shut.
…
Qiu Nian had no idea what had happened to Jiang Ran at Sunac, only seeing her come home with her ski bag, kicking the door open like a butcher, tossing the ski bag aside, and rushing into her room.
Qiu Nian followed her, bewildered, watching her dive into the pile of birthday gifts she had received, using both hands to dig through them. The neatly stacked gifts were instantly thrown into disarray.
“What’s wrong?” Qiu Nian asked, arms crossed. “What are you looking for?”
As she asked, she watched Jiang Ran pull out the copy of the “Book of Songs” she had once mocked, “slap” it onto the ground, and then crouch beside it, hugging her knees and glaring at it like it was something she deeply hated.
Qiu Nian: “What are you doing? Did you get pregnant unexpectedly? Are you choosing a name for your daughter or son—”
Jiang Ran gestured to her with her finger: “Give me your phone.”
Qiu Nian handed her phone over without understanding why. Jiang Ran opened Bei Jiao’s social media from that day, saw his location and time, which was as obvious as “no money here,” and gritted her teeth in frustration.
She opened the picture he had posted. Among the edges of countless first-grade exercise bookshelves, there was another category she hadn’t noticed before, labeled “Recommended Children’s Books.”
On the first row below, right next to the math workbooks, was a large row of “Book of Songs” with identical covers.
—He had committed the crime so brazenly.
As if a criminal with an antisocial personality disorder was afraid their crime was too sophisticated, they had even thoughtfully left evidence and clues before fleeing the scene.
He was declaring war.
She silently handed the phone back to Qiu Nian, who took it and looked at the enlarged image. The dark brown cover of the “Book of Songs” was right under her nose.
Qiu Nian instinctively said, “Oh,” paused, then “Oh” again in slight shock.
Blinking, she said in confusion: “Was it really him that night?”
Her tone was sincere.
She truly didn’t know about it.
Jiang Ran’s chest felt slightly less heavy.
“I should thank him, at least he hasn’t gone crazy enough to bribe you all and turn you into his accomplices,” Jiang Ran said coldly. “Otherwise, I’d think I was really in ‘Detective Conan,’ playing Gin from the Black Organization, and guess what? Except for myself, everyone around me in the organization is an undercover agent, and even seven-year-olds use Xiaotiancai smartwatches as communication tools. I’m being systematically pursued and intercepted—”
As Qiu Nian listened to her incoherent complaints, she slowly opened the first page of the “Book of Songs”—”Guan Ju.”
She flipped to the second page—”Jian Jia.”
Qiu Nian: “Pfft.”
Under Jiang Ran’s bewildered stare, Qiu Nian threw the book back at her, smirking slightly: “Your ex-boyfriend gave you a whole book of love letters. How romantic.”
“Don’t insult the word ‘romantic.'”
“Did you take Chinese class?” Qiu Nian took the book back and casually flipped a page. “‘He who gathered the reeds, I have not seen you for a day, it feels like three months.'”
“Shut up, that’s so corny.”
Jiang Ran, with a dark expression, pulled the book from Qiu Nian’s hands, as if it were something evil and terrifying, and shoved the recommended children’s book back to the bottom of the pile.
Seeing her resistance, Qiu Nian sat down beside her and nudged her shoulder with her own: “He misses you.”
Those four words exploded like a nuclear bomb in Jiang Ran’s mind.
It wasn’t surprising; it just felt like something unspeakable had suddenly been exposed—
“He’s just having a whim,” Jiang Ran stubbornly said. “It was just that night when I had my birthday and you all made too much noise. Someone who didn’t know might think we were holding a Snow Festival Gala, so that’s why all sorts of people came over!”
Qiu Nian: “Then why are you blushing?”
Jiang Ran: “…”
Qiu Nian: “That night, you left the door open and didn’t close it, letting whoever wanted to come in and whoever wanted to leave go, that was also your own idea.”
Jiang Ran: “…”
Seeing her friend’s embarrassed expression, Qiu Nian couldn’t bear to look and mentioned Bei Jiao again, inevitably wanting to check his recent updates. She scrolled through his short video app and watched his successful nollie 540° video…
She let out another “Oh”: “Looks like it was a long-planned move.”
Jiang Ran turned her head expressionlessly, as if asking what insight she had.
“Look, he’s even calling out to you in the video?” Qiu Nian pointed at the phone. “This is even recorded. When no one was recording, how many times did he think of you falling hundreds of times on the slopes like a dog eating poop? Then he’d think of your name, get up, dust himself off, and keep falling—”
She was too vivid, and Jiang Ran couldn’t help but imagine the scene.
Her hands, hugging her knees, silently grabbed at the air but said nothing.
“Now isn’t that romantic?”
“Romantic my ass.”
Seeing Jiang Ran show no reaction.
She poked her waist with her hand: “Master, don’t be so heartless! Your apprentice landed a 540°, wow! How sharp! In another year, I suspect he could even catch up to you… Want to leave a comment praising him?”
Jiang Ran coldly slapped her hand away, while Qiu Nian laughed and casually gave Bei Jiao a like.
As she liked it, Jiang Ran crouched beside her and changed her flight ticket to leave that night.
She didn’t want to wait even a second longer, fearing that if she waited until tomorrow and her plans were exposed, he might chase her to the airport to kill her.
—Maybe he hadn’t had many thoughts before, but now Jiang Ran felt that, when that dog went crazy, he would probably do anything.
…
The next day.
Jiang Ran’s plane landed at Harbin Taiping Airport.
At the moment the plane touched down, she felt a sense of relief, no longer worried about encountering ghosts every few steps.
Harbin Sunac, along with Guangzhou Sunac and Chengdu Sunac, is known as one of the top three domestic ski resorts. However, due to its remote location, even though among the three Sunacs it has the steepest and longest advanced slopes, it is always sparsely populated.
Harbin Sunac’s three advanced slopes are increasingly steeper, with the leftmost one almost matching the famous steep run at Songbei Ski Resort.
The rightmost slope, due to its sufficient length and suitable gradient, has become the favorite of provincial and municipal snowboard and alpine racing teams.
Harbin Sunac isn’t crowded, but because there are professional training teams, a large group of people train repeatedly every day. By the afternoon, the snow becomes so ruined it’s beyond imagination. The snow is loose, and snow bumps are numerous. It’s common for beginners to get stuck in snowbanks or be thrown off by bumps while sliding.
Therefore, after the training teams enter the slopes in the afternoon, the number of people on the slopes becomes even fewer.
Although many skiing enthusiasts complain about this, in Jiang Ran’s opinion, the training teams are actually quite polite. They place the gates they need to navigate on the far right or far left of the slopes and try to control their turns to avoid large sweeping arcs, only occupying one-third of the slope width…
Ignoring the snow quality issue, their presence doesn’t affect general skiing enthusiasts’ use of the slopes.
However, for someone like Jiang Ran, who wakes up at noon, takes a shower, applies sunscreen, and fusses with her hair, going down the slopes in the afternoon with the training teams becomes a routine.
Jiang Ran rested in Harbin for a few days before heading to the ski resort.
It was still afternoon on that day when she arrived at Sunac, and there weren’t many people left, just the training team kids chattering around. She put on her board with one foot and followed the line to queue up for the ski lift.
It was the men’s team training that day. Ahead were teenagers in their late teens to early twenties, wearing racing-specific boards and boots—
Under normal circumstances, if you’re just doing basic skiing, you can use the formula of subtracting 20 cm from your height to choose the right snowboard length. However, when selecting a board for more advanced purposes, depending on whether it’s for flatland tricks, park terrain, or carving, the selection varies.
Flatland boards are usually shorter, softer, and more elastic.
Park terrain boards are of medium length, matching the rider’s height and weight, slightly harder than flatland boards, with a wider waist and slightly less elasticity.
Carving boards are generally longer, with a reasonable range of subtracting 5-10 cm from the rider’s height based on personal skiing habits. These boards are stiff and have less elasticity.
Unlike general technical skiing, racing-specific boards are not only particularly narrow at the waist but also usually the same length as the rider’s height.
Their boots are also different.
Common snowboard boots on the market vary widely in brand, hardness, appearance, and wearing method, and are collectively called “soft boots.”
In contrast, racing-specific snow boots are basically uniform in appearance, mostly yellow, very hard, and lack the concept of “tongue pressure” or “comfort.” They are rigid and straight, just like alpine ski boots.
These snowboards and boots help them fold and apply pressure more effectively, all for the sake of speed.
The only similarity between general technical skiing, known as carving, and racing is that their pressure application method basically follows the same posture as carving JSBA, and the binding angles are uniformly set in a forward stance.
This leads to a strange habit among both carving and racing skiers: when meeting a stranger on the slopes, they first look at the binding angle instead of the face—
If everyone is in a forward stance, then they’re family.
Like the kid standing in front of Jiang Ran right now.
He was tall, estimated to be around 1.9 meters, with dark skin, and she couldn’t tell where he was from. At this moment, Jiang Ran was moving forward with one foot on her board and accidentally bumped into his board slightly. He instinctively turned around and looked down.
First, he noticed the hammerhead board and the forward-facing bindings of the person behind him, then heard a female voice say indifferently, “Sorry.”
He felt that the voice sounded familiar. After a moment of hesitation, he put his hands on his waist, bent down, and peered carefully at the woman in front of him through his goggles. Then he called out in a deep voice, “Sister Xiaoran? Is that you?”
“Huh?”
Jiang Ran was surprised.
How many years had it been since she last competed in racing? Moreover, back then, she had been abroad. She couldn’t recall having a little bear-like younger brother in any professional racing team in China.
As she stood there momentarily stunned, the so-called little bear brother in front of her removed his goggles and face guard, revealing smiling eyes, single eyelids, sharply defined eyebrows, and a thin mouth. His facial features were so distinct, as if carved with a knife.
He smiled at her and said, “It really is you. Never thought I’d see you skiing again.”
Jiang Ran finally recognized him. The person before her was Xie Yu, former captain of the basketball team at Shandong C University. They had briefly met years ago during a university sports meet held at Beijiao and Song Die’s school.
Never expected to run into him here.
…
Xie Yu abandoned his teammates and insisted on riding the ski lift together with Jiang Ran. As soon as he sat down, Jiang Ran was instantly reminded of the story “Cao Chong Weighs an Elephant”—the image of a ship tilting heavily under the weight of an elephant. That was exactly how their ski lift looked now.
She immediately felt how delicate she was and thought she could eat an extra bowl of rice tonight.
Xie Yu explained that he had always been a student with a sports specialty. Last winter, the ski team from his school was short on members and came recruiting, so he joined.
Since he started snowboarding, he had always used racing boots and racing boards. After a year of hard work, he had finally qualified to join the provincial team this year.
“Never thought you would ski too! I should’ve reached out to you last winter.”
When he mentioned this, Jiang Ran felt extremely awkward because, in fact, she often posted skiing-related updates on her social media. But since someone like Xie Yu had practically vanished from her life, she had unconsciously categorized him as a “stranger with no need for interaction” and blocked him from seeing her posts.
“How long have you been snowboarding?” Xie Yu pointed at her carving board. “Not many girls go for this. Most prefer freestyle, which is flashier and prettier.”
“For quite a while.”
“Oh, then you must be pretty good.”
Jiang Ran smiled and changed the subject by offering to treat Xie Yu to a meal sometime soon.
At that moment, the ski lift reached the top of the mountain, and they got off together.
Harbin Sunac had three advanced slopes. On the rightmost slope, the training team had already set up gates. It was now a little past two in the afternoon, so they had likely already trained for a while.
A row of gates had been placed along the leftmost side of that slope, while on the far right side, staff were just inserting the final gate.
Essentially, the training team had set up two rows of gates symmetrically on both sides of the same slope for the day.
Standing at the top of the mountain, a coach wearing a thick jacket and holding a stopwatch waved to the team members coming up the mountain, signaling them to go to the right side.
“They’ll probably remove the left row soon. They’ve already done several runs,” Xie Yu explained. “Harbin Sunac is great like that.”
From his tone, he might have felt a bit awkward about the training team occupying both sides of the slope.
Jiang Ran didn’t really care and waved it off.
“You should go slower later. There are a lot of moguls in the area we trained in. Also, some gate poles haven’t been removed yet. Don’t hit them. Don’t think they’re soft—they hurt when you crash into them.”
Xie Yu was full of concern. As soon as he finished speaking, he saw the woman beside him turn her head toward him, squinting with an ambiguous smile.
Just then, the coach called Xie Yu over to start training, shouting at him to stop chatting. Xie Yu simply said “Okay” and glided over on one foot, stretching as he leaned against the start gate railing.
He couldn’t help glancing sideways at Jiang Ran to see how she skied, only to find her at the other end of the gates, slowly strapping into her board while bending down.
“Xie Yu! What are you doing!”
The coach’s roar startled him.
Xie Yu muttered “Okay” again, and as soon as the coach gave the signal and started the stopwatch, he took off—
Because he thought Sister Xiaoran might be watching him, he skied extra hard this time, striving for elegant posture, avoiding poles, preventing slips, and not missing any gates!
He gave it his all, channeling the seriousness he usually reserved for competitions, and zoomed downward. When he rounded the final gate and prepared to enter the intermediate slope, his training route ended.
He immediately turned around to find Jiang Ran and see if she had witnessed his heroic performance—
But he couldn’t find her.
Looking back from the buffer zone where the advanced and intermediate slopes converged, he could see most of the advanced slope, but there was no sign of her.
He was puzzled. Even with soft boots, carving shouldn’t be that slow. Could she have fallen halfway down?
Or had she not even started yet?
He couldn’t help scratching his head under his helmet, feeling a bit awkward, and was about to check with her on WeChat—
At that moment, he noticed someone halfway down the intermediate slope—the person he was looking for—doing a nollie 540°, crouching low, touching the snow with one hand, and springing into the air.
Xie Yu: “?”
Xie Yu was stunned. He quickly caught up with Jiang Ran.
When they rode the lift together for the second run, Xie Yu, barely seated, couldn’t wait to ask Jiang Ran:
“Sister Xiaoran, I looked back for you just now. I didn’t expect you to be so fast.”
Jiang Ran replied with a grin: “Hehe.”
At that moment, he still hadn’t noticed anything unusual.
It wasn’t until they reached the top of the mountain that Xie Yu noticed his teammates giving him strange looks—
Expressions filled with inexplicable complexity.
Xie Yu had no idea what he had done wrong. Hadn’t he skied pretty well just now?
Before he could ask, he saw the coach staring at them with sharp eyes:
“Xie Yu, do another run!”
Xie Yu: “Huh?”
Coach: “Huh, my ass!”
Xie Yu: “Wait, I just came up. Why do I have to go again? Xiao Xing and the others haven’t even skied yet!”
Coach: “If I say go, you go! It’s only two or three hundred meters. Will doing an extra run kill you?”
Xie Yu: “…”
He had wanted to chat a bit more with Sister Xiaoran!
Grumbling, he moved over to the coach and had barely stood still when the coach asked:
“That girl—do you know her?”
Xie Yu, confused, replied with a hesitant “Mm.”
“I asked how old you are?”
Xie Yu: “Twenty-two.”
Coach: “Are you dating her?”
Xie Yu: “Huh? Not yet. But maybe in the future. Destiny, you know.”
Xie Yu thought for a moment and suddenly seemed to remember something, and asked on his own:
“By the way, why haven’t they removed the gates on the other side yet?”
Coach: “Why do you care?”
Xie Yu: “Don’t want any amateur skiers to hit the poles and end up paying medical bills.”
Coach: “Amateur skiers? Who? You?”
Xie Yu: “Ah?”
Coach: “Not removing them yet.”
Xie Yu: “Huh?”
Coach: “Just ski. Stop talking.”
Xie Yu didn’t understand why, but he had no choice but to do another run—
But this time, the atmosphere felt weird. And to make things worse, the coach had asked about Jiang Ran.
Their coach was a training fanatic—someone who couldn’t remember his wife’s birthday but remembered every provincial team ace’s records down to the decimal point. This wasn’t someone who would randomly concern himself with his athletes’ love lives.
So as he skied down, Xie Yu couldn’t help glancing sideways at the neighboring slope—
And what he saw shocked him.
He noticed Jiang Ran, wearing soft boots and her carving board, weaving around the gates on the left side that hadn’t been removed yet!
They had practically started at the same time. Perhaps because he briefly lost focus, by the time he passed the second gate, he didn’t need to use his peripheral vision anymore—he could clearly see Jiang Ran’s back just by slightly turning his head—
She had already passed one and a half gates ahead of him.
Soft boots.
A mainstream brand carving board (even just the basic Gray model, not the top-tier version).
By the time he rounded the final gate, Jiang Ran was already halfway down the intermediate slope.
Xie Yu’s mind went blank. He felt like he was dreaming. His mind was flooded with the image of that woman, long hair flying, elegantly weaving around every gate—
This time on the lift, he didn’t dare ask, “Sister, how come you can do gates too?” He remained appropriately silent, recalling how he had seriously warned her not to trip over moguls or hit the poles…
It was the most embarrassing moment of his life.
Back on the mountain, he was called over by the coach again.
“Send me that girl’s WeChat,” the coach said calmly.
Xie Yu: “What?”
The coach nodded: “Right now she’s my dream.”
Xie Yu: “…”
…
The parallel giant slalom event in snowboarding officially became an Olympic sport at the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, USA.
From then on, technical snowboarding finally entered the public eye.
At that time, Jiang Ran was barely in elementary school, just starting to learn snowboarding during a Nordic vacation. She was still a beginner struggling to master edge transitions.
Later, Jiang Ran studied abroad.
Compared to China, where winter sports only gained popularity in recent years due to the Winter Olympics, snowboarding had a much earlier start and a stronger culture abroad, especially in North America and Europe…
Almost every family with a bit of economic means had kids who could ski.
In countries like Canada, Sweden, and Norway, children often learned to ski before they even learned to walk.
Jiang Ran started systematically learning snowboarding then. She got into technical riding through friends and classmates. She didn’t have much choice—her classmates all used hard boots, the EC system she later explained to Beijiao and Song Die—the legendary “armpit hair giant slalom.”
Later when she returned to China and met new friends, she found that in Asia, very few people used hard boots purely for technical riding. Most wore soft boots, combining technical riding with personal style and high-speed flatland tricks…
At that time, technical riding was simply called technical riding, not carving.
That name was later invented by Chinese riders to sound better.
She followed the trend and switched to soft boots. For someone used to hard boots, switching to soft boots was like a power downgrade—
She found herself effortlessly at the top of the hierarchy, enjoyed it a little, and continued developing high-speed flatland tricks, never really stepping down from the peak.
Over the years, her riding style gradually evolved from the early technical style—focused on speed and stability—to something more expressive, freer, and visually appealing.
It wasn’t until two years ago, when Lin Shuang was inspired by a group of foreigners to try racing again, that she picked up hard boots and racing boards again—
But she hadn’t fully returned to racing mode yet. She only participated in a few international qualifying races as warm-ups, and hadn’t even achieved high rankings or points, when Lin Shuang passed away.
Hard boots and racing boards were once again put away.
Now, after nearly nine years of snowboarding, she sometimes couldn’t help thinking that maybe she just wasn’t destined for racing, which was why she kept changing, always hovering on the fringes…
She never considered herself a genius. The fact that she now held a place among the top male carvers in China’s snowboarding carving scene, standing shoulder to shoulder with them as one of the elites, was due partly to talent, but mostly to hard work.
Besides recognition from the snowboarding community, being regarded as one of the masters, Jiang Ran rarely interacted with official national team members.
That night, when Nie Xin added her on WeChat, she was completely stunned.
Nie Xin was the coach of Heilongjiang Province’s parallel giant slalom team, dedicated to cultivating talents for the national team. His dream was to see his trainees shine at the Winter Olympics (preferably the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics), so he could smile in peace in the afterlife.
…However, when it came to technical riding, whether male or female, not just in China, but even across Asia, there were very few who truly excelled.
In events like slopestyle and halfpipe, you could at least find a few athletes who could compete internationally—
But in parallel giant slalom, it was really tough.
Today, seeing Jiang Ran, wearing soft boots and a standard carving board, easily outperform Xie Yu, who was considered mid-to-high level in the provincial team, Nie Xin felt like the sky above him had suddenly brightened.
【Nie Xin: Sister, life is long. You should try more things. Look, doing basic technical carving is so boring. There’s only so much you can do… Do you like the design of the Olympic gold medal? It’ll be right at home next year.】
【Nie Xin: Oh, you’re from Guangdong.】
【Nie Xin: An Olympic gold medal at your entrance hall brings good feng shui and prosperity to your family.】
【Jiang Ran: …】
Jiang Ran politely mentioned that she had just turned twenty-six.
Nie Xin immediately replied with a string of question marks, then asked, confused, “So what? Isn’t that still young?”
Jiang Ran then vaguely recalled that Shaun White, the snowboarding legend known as the “God of Snowboarding,” was born in 1986. After years of training, countless injuries, he had just announced he would compete in the 2022 Winter Olympics. At that time, he would already be thirty-six.
Unlike figure skating or gymnastics, snowboarding was full of veteran athletes. At twenty-six, she was practically still a rookie.
【Jiang Ran: I’ll think about it.】
After sending this serious message, Jiang Ran put down her phone.
Her mind buzzed. She turned around, intending to do some chores to distract herself—
The house in Harbin had already been cleaned by a housekeeper before she arrived, so there wasn’t much she could do. Thus, unpacking the remaining luggage from the box became her only way to shift her focus.
As she unpacked, she pulled out a copy of the “Book of Songs.”
This item, which she had originally shoved carelessly to the bottom of the storage place for birthday gifts, was now secretly placed into her suitcase. She took it out expressionlessly, intending to put it into the bookcase by her bed.
As soon as she lifted the book, its cover loosened and the inner pages fell out, scattering noisily onto the floor. Opened on the ground, the book revealed another postcard that she had cherished dearly—it bore a clear black stamp from Santa Claus Village in Rovaniemi. The handwriting on it had been read over and over again by Jiang Ran:
[“Win the silver medal at the PyeongChang Winter Olympics parallel giant slalom! Lin Shuang”]
Picking up the postcard, Jiang Ran stared blankly for a while, then snorted with laughter.
Sometimes she really felt like Lin Shuang was still around…
Maybe floating midair right now, hugging her neck and whispering in her ear, brainwashing her with “agree to it, agree to it, agree to it.”
Carefully placing the postcard back into the Book of Songs and pressing the slightly wrinkled cover that had fallen to the ground, Jiang Ran neatly arranged the book by her bedside.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and replied to the message—
[“Who’s my little Ran Ran: I guess I can give it a shot?”]
[“Who’s my little Ran Ran: It’s just that I haven’t touched a race board in years, and my sliding posture has changed. I’m not sure if I can manage it.”]
…
Jiang Ran naturally had no idea that her simple agreement caused a middle-aged man several kilometers away to leap up and punch the air in his apartment.
Nie Xin furiously scrolled through his contact list and screamed at his good friend, who was also the coach of the national women’s snowboard parallel giant slalom team:
“I knew she must’ve ridden a race board before!! Her sliding posture and gate maneuvering must be spot-on!!!”
“Just listen to how she put it, ‘my sliding posture has changed.’ Come on, who else would know that the posture used in race sliding differs from that in regular carving (JSBA system)?!!!”
“Wang Jiaming! I’ve found you a treasure! When we meet next, you better kneel and kowtow to me!!!”
“You must kowtow!! Grovel endlessly!!!”
…
There were still many procedures and even qualification assessments required to join the provincial team.
With tight schedules and heavy tasks, Jiang Ran had no time to waste on formalities. After all, snowboarding competitions differ from regular sports events. Regardless of the scale—even Olympic qualifying events like the World Cup—athletes can participate as free agents:
In fact, most competitors do exactly that.
So, almost immediately during the first weekend after accepting the invitation, she started her comeback training with the team.
Over the years, for easier execution of high-speed flat tricks, Jiang Ran’s sliding posture had indeed changed, as she had mentioned:
Taking her right foot as the dominant leg for example.
Nowadays, Jiang Ran’s style involved greater bending of the back leg, while the front leg (the dominant leg) was used to press and lock the ankle, her body folding in reverse with a centered center of gravity, making her slide more nimble and graceful, which also made it easier for her to perform various high-speed flat tricks.
Visually, when she rode, her back leg bent deeply on the back edge, while the front leg bent only slightly, seemingly almost straight at a glance.
In contrast, the typical racing sliding posture involves pressing both legs forward and slightly to the right, keeping the back foot stable while applying pressure with the front foot.
This pressure distribution keeps the center of gravity consistently stable. Visually, both legs bend simultaneously, knees flexing in the same direction.
Jiang Ran had shifted from the latter to the former before, and now she had to revert back to the original posture.
She retrieved her old yellow race boots and race board from storage, bravely facing the challenge of changing her stance again. Every day after training, she asked Xie Yu to film a couple of runs for her to review before going to sleep, to analyze and summarize the changes compared to the previous day.
Except for not revealing the opportunity to join the professional team, she didn’t hide the fact that she had resumed using race boards. She openly rode them—
One day, after finishing her training and preparing to head home, she decided to play around a bit.
Riding down the steep and wide slope in the middle, she wore her yellow stiff boots and rode a 164 cm long snowboard. After carving two edges, she picked up speed. On the back edge, she performed a ground-supported ollie—
But due to the board’s length and stiffness, it got stuck in the snow with a loud “thud,” and she was flung forward like someone bouncing on a seesaw!
All that could be seen was a woman in a black snowsuit, wearing custom race boards, tumbling down the slope once, then sliding headfirst for several meters with a “whoosh whoosh whoosh…”
Xie Yu, who was helping to film nearby, hadn’t expected this extra performance and exclaimed with amusement: “If you’d actually made that jump, Wang Xin from the terrain park over at the next slope would come begging to recruit you like crazy!”
Wang Xin was the head coach of the national team for park terrain snowboarding events.
Jiang Ran burst into laughter as she got up from the snow and sat on a snow mound.
On her way home, finding it amusing, she uploaded the unedited video directly to a short video app with the caption:
[“Today, I played around a bit.”]
This caused a huge stir among the carving community.
[“Stiff boots?”]
[“Stiff boots nollie 360°, impressive! Good thing you didn’t manage the jump, otherwise it might have been even more shocking than your 720° tricks!”]
[“Is Harbin cursed? Do you have to ride stiff boots there?”]
[“…………No wonder it’s our sister Ran, she’s already playing with stiff boots!”]
[“Wait, where did you get stiff boots from?!”]
[“Wow, switching from JSBA to stiff boots is serious business. You can just jump right in! JSBA is the best!”]
…
[“You guys from Harbin are holding out on us! Why didn’t anyone mention that your Ran sister was riding stiff boots? Now we feel like we’re living in a village with no internet access.”]
[“Who was that voice in the background? Was it the trick or the person that was impressive?”]
The last two comments were pinned to the top.
The first one prompted a flurry of responses from the Harbin side—
[“Not holding out, what’s the big deal? Everyone knows social Ran sister. It’s no gossip that she’s hanging out with some pros.”]
[“I’ll let you know the moment she lands a 720°, so you can lose sleep over it: )”]
[“If she’s messing around with pro riders, of course she’d switch to stiff boots. Should we report that too?”]
The second question was from Qiu Nian, whose focus, as always, was off-topic. Jiang Ran thought the woman was ridiculous and casually replied with a “Goge” dog face emoji.
At that moment, she didn’t know that using this yellow dog emoji to reply to this question usually meant a tacit agreement: Yes, I’m in a relationship.
So, right after Jiang Ran got home, Qiu Nian called her.
Kicking off her shoes, she answered the call: “You’re fast. Thinking about becoming an entertainment reporter after you retire?”
Qiu Nian: “Not fast at all. If I hadn’t been delayed by a phone call, I could’ve been even faster.”
Jiang Ran: “What do you mean?”
Qiu Nian scoffed: “A dog called me two minutes after you sent that dog head emoji. If I hadn’t stopped him and told him not to take it seriously with someone who doesn’t really surf the internet or knows anything about WeChat location tracking, he would’ve already booked a flight to Harbin by now.”
Jiang Ran: “…”
Qiu Nian: “And if it went even more smoothly, you’d be waking up early tomorrow to get the first rabies shot at the health station?”
Jiang Ran’s scalp prickled: “That was Xie Yu—he knows her! What do you mean, it’s something to do with me!”
Qiu Nian “oh”ed: “Why would he know Xie Yu?”
Jiang Ran replied offhandedly: “Back then you guys weren’t around, no one to drink with. Sometimes when I got lonely, I’d just randomly shake WeChat to meet people and go to the bar in Beijiao to drink. Xie Yu added me on WeChat when he came to Beijiao for the university games, so I invited him a few times—”
Qiu Nian: “Oh, well, you better keep this person close. Don’t let the mutt find out.”
Jiang Ran suspected Qiu Nian hadn’t understood what she was saying: “I already told you he knows Xie Yu, he should remember him!”
Qiu Nian: “He should also remember you inviting Xie Yu to the bar and drinking right under his nose?”
Jiang Ran: “…”
Jiang Ran suddenly realized, her hand trembling as she immediately opened the short video app and deleted the post she had just made.
Right after deleting it, Qiu Nian’s phone started buzzing like crazy again with WeChat notifications.
The two stayed silent for a moment, on opposite ends of the call.
Suddenly Qiu Nian asked, “You’re hoping it’s not him, right?”
Jiang Ran: “…”
Qiu Nian: “Give it up. With this texting speed, it can only be him—never seen anyone type faster than him. Compared to him, Li Xingnan types like an eighty-year-old man playing on a Xiaobawang Learning Machine.”
Qiu Nian switched to WeChat while still on the call. After a while, she calmly said, “Good job deleting it, girl! The mutt is now asking three thousand silly questions again. Here we go, first… the first string of questions: Why did she delete the video? What did you tell her? Is she feeling guilty? If she’s not guilty, why delete the video?”
Jiang Ran opened her mouth to explain.
But the next second, she realized and got angry: “What the hell? Do I have to report to my ex-boyfriend every time I delete a video!”
“Wow, just keep acting like that! Sweetie, our suggestion is that it’s not necessary, but encouraged!”
Qiu Nian paused, then added, “After all, rabies shots are self-paid.”
“…”
“When will I finally stop living in his shadow?”
“I don’t know, maybe not until your next life?”
“…We’ve been broken up for so long.”
“No one kisses after breaking up.”
“How do you even know that?!”
“You slapped him so hard in the face that I’m surprised he didn’t ask. His face was swollen for three days… Your apprentice told me. Kids have loud voices. Now half of Guangrong probably knows that their ‘Big Brother Bei’ got slapped by some unknown fierce woman.”
“AAAAAHHHHH!”
“Stop screaming.”
“Don’t tell me not to scream,” Qiu Nian said gently, “Oh wait, go ahead and scream if you want. If you really need to vent, just open the window and scream outside. But messing around with guys? Not allowed. Promise me, really, no messing around.”
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