People aren’t omnipotent.
Chi Zhan squatted down and examined the two little snowmen—if one could even call them that—and chuckled. “Kinda cute, actually.”
Though their heads weren’t the usual round shape and looked more like lopsided trapezoids, and their bodies were closer to squares than spheres, unlike any of the other snowmen built nearby, they were small, unique, and genuinely endearing.
Chen Che was brimming with enthusiasm.
“Building snowmen takes skill! Watch me—like this, and then like this…”
Everyone had turned into kids again, playing in the snow for over half an hour. They built snowmen of all sizes—big, medium, and small. Chi Zhan’s fingers had turned red from the cold, and he couldn’t help but rub his hands together.
This was his first time building a snowman. Playing outside in this kind of weather without gloves meant the chill seeped in quickly.
Just as Chi Zhan was wondering whether he could somehow take one of the snowmen back with him, something warm was suddenly shoved into his hand. He paused, opened his palm, and saw the little hand warmer he’d borrowed from the café earlier. How did it end up here?
“Bought it from the owner,” Qi Song said.
The warmer was soft and squishy on the outside, with a bouncy texture. Chi Zhan gave it a gentle squeeze, quickly becoming a little addicted to the sensation. And it really was warm—instantly thawing out his nearly frozen fingers.
Qi Song wasn’t wearing gloves either. The snow-covered ground radiated cold, and even their breaths came out in pale wisps. After warming his hands a bit, Chi Zhan tried to return the warmer.
“Not cold anymore?”
“You use it,” Chi Zhan replied with a smile. “An e-sports pro’s fingers are worth their weight in gold—you can’t let them freeze.”
Chi Zhan had initially entered the livestream because of Qi Song’s hands. Many viewers loved watching those long, nimble fingers dance across the keyboard with the elegance of a piano performance—yet they could unleash a string of jaw-dropping high-difficulty maneuvers.
Qi Song looked at the warmer Chi Zhan was handing back. He raised his hand, and Chi Zhan thought he was going to take it—but instead, Qi Song loosely grasped the other side of the warmer, their hands brushing together.
“Let’s share it,” he said, his hand lightly touching Chi Zhan’s.
Chen Che was busy snapping photos, editing them, and posting to his Moments feed. His camera accidentally swung around and captured a moment that could only be described as—shocking? No—romantic.
Ah… another dose of PDA.
The amount of dog food today was wildly over the limit. Chen Che was nearly numb to it by now.
In the end, the little snowmen didn’t come home with them. The inn was heated, and they’d have melted right away. So they were left behind in that snowy field—immortalized in dozens of photo albums instead.
Back at the inn, it felt like summer inside. The colder it was outside, the hotter it seemed indoors. Everyone was bundled up to the nines, and the moment they stepped in, they peeled off their layers. Exhausted, they dragged themselves toward their rooms. Chi Zhan was planning to rest for a bit, too.
“I’ll head off first, then,” Chi Zhan said. After a beat, he added, “The hot springs here are great. If you’re interested, you should try them.”
Qi Song took off his scarf and replied, “Already booked a spot. If you’re free tonight, come join us.”
Chi Zhan blinked. Was Qi Song inviting him?
But since it was a group activity, it didn’t seem like anything to read into.
“If I’m free,” Chi Zhan said, leaving room to maneuver—he wasn’t sure yet if he had other plans tonight.
Qi Song gave a low hum of acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on Chi Zhan’s face for a moment. He looked like he wanted to say something but eventually said nothing and left with the others.
Qi Song and Chen Che were sharing a room, so they headed back together.
Chen Che had been holding it in for ages. Once he was sure no one else could overhear, he leaned in close, his face practically glowing with curiosity and gossip.
“So you and Secretary Chi—how did that happen, exactly?”
“It just happened naturally.”
“……”
That was such a Qi Song-style answer.
Like plain water—technically an answer, but left you feeling like you’d heard nothing at all.
Qi Song shrugged off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and glanced at his phone.
“Come on, give me more! I swear I won’t tell anyone,” Chen Che pleaded. “Are you guys long-distance? I dated a guy long-distance once. In the end… sigh.”
He looked heartbroken.
“It’s just too easy to lose touch. Some people stop replying, some stop calling—and just like that, it’s over. Don’t end up like me.”
Qi Song shot him a look.
“I don’t think it was because of the distance.”
“……”
“We’ll be staying in Province A for a while, but eventually we’ll leave. That’s why you have to make Secretary Chi fall head over heels for you now—the kind of love where no one else can compare.”
Clearly fired up, Chen Che launched into a passionate strategy session.
“Why didn’t you ask him out? Tonight’s perfect for it. A soak in the hot spring would totally heat things up!”
“Captain Qi, if you’re gonna top, be bold about it. Take the first step—and the ten-thousandth! Even if you’re the bottom, you still need to make the move! You can’t leave everything up to Secretary Chi. Here, let me check…”
He pulled out his phone, scanned the QR code for the pricing chart on the wall, and began placing an order.
“They’ve got private hot springs. If you book one, no one else can get in. I’ll reserve a small one for you two.”
“…Didn’t know you had a matchmaking kink,” Qi Song remarked.
Chen Che completed the booking and sent the confirmation number to Qi Song, declaring with rare swagger, “This one’s on me—consider it a congratulatory gift!”
“No need.”
“Why not?”
Chen Che was stunned. He looked Qi Song up and down, suspicion growing. Finally, he landed on a theory that seemed both ridiculous and disturbingly plausible.
“Wait… don’t tell me you’re… impotent?”
Chen Che looked as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. He stared at Qi Song and tried to find something comforting to say.
Eventually, he blurted out, “I know this amazing old Chinese medicine doctor. Seriously, he’s a miracle worker. Want me to get you an appointment?”
Later, when Wen An invited Chen Che to go eat at the buffet, he found him listlessly queuing up for ranked matches on his phone.
“You’re still grinding?” Wen An asked, surprised. “You act half-dead when it’s practice, but on vacation you suddenly become a tryhard?”
Chen Che wailed, “Captain Qi gave me a performance quota. He said if I don’t hit it, I don’t get to eat… sob sob sob…”
