Ski Into Love (Hush, the king is hibernating) [Requested]

Part 11

Lao Yan set down his tray and noticed Shen Chong. One hand deftly tapped his phone screen while the other shoveled food into his mouth with a spoon.

His movements were swift and precise. Even eating absentmindedly, an attractive person remained captivating.

Bei Ci approached from behind, peering over Lao Yan's shoulder. He made a face and nudged Lao Yan's knee. "What's going on?"

"Eating while texting someone," Lao Yan replied. "What else?"

"You don't understand. My master probably joined some etiquette team during his national team years. He used to scold me for using my phone while eating. Back then, we called him Father Chong. Even my dad wasn't that strict... uh."

Shen Chong glanced up briefly, and Bei Ci promptly shut his mouth.

The chatty duo set down their trays and sat across from Shen Chong.

Bei Ci: "Master, this afternoon at the park..."

Shen Chong: "Not going."

Bei Ci wailed: "Why not?"

Shen Chong: "Busy."

Bei Ci and Lao Yan exchanged glances.

Lao Yan spoke up, his tone deliberately casual: "Chong-ge, who are you texting?"

Shen Chong: "Should I send you next month's water meter reading? Since you're so concerned about my business, maybe you'd like to be the father instead."

Lao Yan responded with an "Oh," then turned to Bei Ci and spoke rapidly: "He's texting a girl. Given that Chong-ge only has one or two female disciples, and they all act like rabbits seeing a wolf around him, especially during lunch, I can deduce it's probably the newbie he's been teaching these past couple of days."

Bei Ci: "Who?"

Lao Yan, expressionless: "The current owner of your little turtle butt cushion."

Bei Ci: "Oh!"

Across the table, Shen Chong didn't even bother to look at them. He calmly set down his phone and spoon, picked up his chopsticks, and focused on selecting pieces of fish from the chopped chili fish head dish before him.

The two across from him, apparently not very hungry, seemed more interested in bantering:

Bei Ci: "Master never gave any female disciple a butt cushion before. It's not like he couldn't afford it, right?"

Lao Yan: "Maybe he's developed a more compassionate heart in middle age. And it's not just the cushion. I saw him with the cushion owner on the ski slope today. Guess what?"

Bei Ci: "What?"

Lao Yan fell silent, took out his phone, opened WeChat, and sent a photo to a certain group.

Shen Chong's phone, face-up beside his hand, lit up as Lao Yan sent an image to his disciples' group chat.

Suddenly, the usually quiet lunchtime group exploded with activity.

Notifications chimed incessantly.

Around the cafeteria, people paused mid-meal, dropping their chopsticks and craning their necks to stare in shock at their table.

Shen Chong couldn't recall ever streaking down a ski slope, let alone being caught by Lao Yan (.).

Across the table, Bei Ci gaped at the image, mouth agape in astonishment.

Shen Chong finally abandoned his attempt at a peaceful meal and reached for his phone—

Oh.

It wasn't anything too outrageous.