Wen Yin stared at Wen Zhi with a look of pure, helpless bewilderment—like she was watching someone do something inexplicable.
Wen Zhi’s blunt, simple words flushed her cheeks crimson. “What are you saying, Ms. Wen? I call it—I can always tell what’s going on.”
She glanced over at Shao Yinan and Wen Yin with an expression that was all innuendo. The look was enough to make Wen Yin want to reach out and pluck her eyeballs right out.
“Maybe Ms. Wen should see an optometrist,” Shao Yinan said lightly, dismissing the flirtatious look as nothing more than an eye twitch. “You can’t have your eyes doing whatever they like.”
After being shut down twice, Wen Zhi’s face collapsed. Xiao Mo, unable to watch any longer, shot Wen Yin a cold look and then changed the subject casually. “Zhi Zhi, feeling cold? Want to rest for a bit?”
The small show of concern took the edge off Wen Zhi’s expression; she flashed Xiao Mo a triumphant glance that landed squarely in Wen Yin’s direction.
Wen Yin gave her a look that said everything—speechless.
Wen Zhi must’ve been born with “a petty person delighted by small gains” engraved into her bones.
Her little victory didn’t last long; they were on camera, after all. She softened her voice and pouted a bit. “No, I’ll keep practicing. I can’t be like Ms. Wen, always getting Shao to come rest with her, right?”
The chat exploded.
“She speaks for herself—I’ll stan my ship!”
“Wen Zhi doesn’t get it. Only we know the sweetness of ‘the only crush’!”
“Just a lurker here—why hasn’t Wen Zhi left yet? Aren’t Xiao Mo and Shao making themselves obvious third wheels?”
“I can’t with Wen Zhi’s tone. She’s trying way too hard, cringe.”
“Finally someone said it. She’s purposely tying Wen Yin to Shao Yinan—what the heck?”
“Shao Yinan fans: we’re neutral about Wen Yin, but we hate leeches trying to hop on and smear others.”
Shao Yinan’s fanbase was huge; after watching Wen Zhi perform for so long, they’d guessed her little scheme almost to a T. Frankly, they’d never seen such a cheap tactic.
“Didn’t expect you to care about Yun so much, Wen Zhi,” Li Xiangwei’s voice cut in suddenly. She stood behind with Xiang Zhou, who looked demure and obedient like a little wife at her side.
Li Xiangwei’s presence had been quiet but watchful; she’d clearly been listening. Tall and poised, she dominated the space in front of Wen Zhi without trying.
Her remark carried a pointed meaning. “But if you’re spending all your attention on someone else, maybe you should manage your own affairs. After all—” She deliberately stretched the words, voice lazy with amusement, “—there’s an old saying: eat your radish with salt, don’t fret over things that aren’t yours.”
Wen Yin couldn’t help the ghost of a smile. She kept her expression neutral, but inside she was quietly impressed.
Li Xiangwei narrowed her eyes and looked Wen Zhi up and down. From their first interaction, she’d smelled something off. Wen Zhi’s remarks were too calculated—once Shao Yinan’s name was dragged into anything, controversy was guaranteed. And Wen Zhi’s suggestive glances at Wen Yin and Shao? The implication was obvious to anyone with half a brain.
The chat split off again.
“Wait—Li Xiangwei actually hit the nail on the head?”
“Wen Zhi’s literally steering the conversation. Who can’t see that?”
“Can we not accuse Zhi Zhi of being evil? Isn’t it okay to ship close-up?”
“Why are you defending her? Are you only allowed to ship your own pair?”
“Someone’s trying to smear Zhi Zhi. Doesn’t take much to start a trend.”
“LOL, fans please be realistic—the trend began with her, didn’t it?”
“Stop whitewashing. I’m about to lose patience.”
“Wen Zhi fans know how to ship. Respect.”
Wen Zhi’s smile finally cracked. She fixed Li Xiangwei with a steady, murderous look—part of her literally wanted to rush forward and rip that mouth open—but she kept smiling all the same.
“Got it, Ms. Li,” she said far too quickly. Wen Yin blinked; the speed of the reply was almost suspicious.
“By the way, Ms. Li, how’s your skiing practice going? With Xiang Zhou helping, I’m sure you’re doing well,” Wen Zhi added, as if she hadn’t just been called out.
People in the chat had to admit: Wen Zhi’s poker face was impressive. She’d been steering the topic, and had Li not stepped in, who knew how far she would’ve pushed it?
Li Xiangwei didn’t bother with pleasantries. After three streaming episodes, she’d long since seen Wen Zhi’s true color—someone not fit for close ties. She only gave a small nod. Wen Zhi’s smile widened like she’d won something.
“Perfect timing. Let’s show the viewers what we’ve got for our final run,” Wen Zhi announced.
Wen Yin, who had been quiet until now, lifted her chin. “Include me.”
The three women locked eyes. A flash of something hard passed across Wen Zhi’s gaze before she replied, “Sure. Then please coach me, Ms. Wen.”
Inside, Wen Zhi was already tallying her chances. Her run with Xiao Mo had gone well; from what she’d seen, Wen Yin’s training was less impressive. She glanced meaningfully at Li Xiangwei, smiled, and fell silent.
Li Xiangwei’s uncertainty faded when Wen Yin joined them. She cast a sideways glance at Wen Zhi, then followed the others up the nearby slope.
The chat called it what it was: a big, dramatic showdown.
“I want to see which of the three is best, haha!”
“I bet five cents—Zhi Zhi wins!”
They checked their gear at the top. Wen Zhi stretched confidently, arching forward as if the hill were hers. At the short command to start, she shot out first, leaving Wen Yin and Li Xiangwei behind. Her movements were jittery—impatient rather than graceful.
Li Xiangwei, who’d skied before, passed her with ease. Wen Yin, the newest to this, followed behind steadily, cautious.
Wen Zhi narrowed her eyes, pushing harder to catch up with Li Xiangwei. The space between them closed rapidly. For a few frantic seconds, the red and blue skis knocked together.
Li Xiangwei felt the world spin. Light flooded her vision—so bright it erased everything.