Chapter 131: Su Huan Arrives in Beijing

At 4 p. ., the sunset painted Miaofeng Mountain golden, and Qin Yun borrowed a tape measure and marker pen from the guesthouse owner before heading out.

The guesthouse owner couldn't possibly have more professional surveying tools, and Qin Yun didn't particularly need them anyway.

With his current skill level, many things were almost instinctive—for instance, judging slope angles, he could estimate them with his eyes alone; though less precise than instruments, such precision wasn't necessary.

As for devices like friction coefficient testers, they weren't useless in practice, but they were optional; as long as the friction coefficient met requirements, slight variations made little difference.

What truly mattered to him were ground conditions, wind speed, humidity, and external factors (people/animals).

Having endured countless system check-in missions and faced life-threatening extremes, Qin Yun's heart had grown terrifyingly strong.

Descending at 140 km/h—something that sounded instantly lethal—now seemed to Qin Yun merely an opportunity to claim a system reward.

Of course, he said that, but he still valued his life, so he wouldn't skip any necessary preparations.

In November, Miaofeng Mountain had long shed its early autumn hues; most of the golden smoke tree leaves had fallen, leaving bare branches that looked desolate.

Along the way, occasional clusters of pine and cypress dotted the grayish mountain cliffs.

Qin Yun walked along the winding mountain road, occasionally stopping to measure road width and compare it with his own estimates.

The road here was quite wide, accommodating two lanes in one direction; guardrails on both sides were mostly rusted steel pipes, and in some sections, the rail bases had even detached from the ground.

He walked and measured continuously—"To complete the check-in task at 140 km/h, the stretch must be at least 5 km long, with a slope maintained around 20 degrees, no sharp hairpin turns, and surface smoothness is critical."

He stood at 800 meters elevation—his starting point for the descent.

Squatting down, he touched the ground with his hand, comparing it to the sections he'd passed; the friction coefficient remained steadily at 0. , as expected.

The descent requirement only demanded 0. .

"I hope tomorrow morning's humidity isn't too high."

For the descent, he could only choose daytime, not night—human reaction to low-light conditions was far slower than in daylight.

Attempting such an extreme sport at night was no different from seeking death.

"Let's begin."

There were still many people on Miaofeng Mountain, mostly tourists; Qin Yun, with his backpack, blended in unremarkably. Though some found his occasional use of the tape measure odd, no one approached to ask.

He set off from the starting point, walking down the road, soon reaching the first curve.

Without a laser rangefinder, he judged with his eyes.

Only at master level could one truly appreciate what brilliance meant—he locked onto the center of the curve instantly and estimated its radius in a flash.

"Curve radius: 12. meters, slope: 21. °."

He recorded the data in his phone's notes, muttering to himself: "Slope is moderate, curve radius sufficient—can maintain high speed through."

After recording, he pulled out the marker pen and drew a small triangular mark on a roadside rock, so it would be instantly visible during the actual descent.

He continued slowly downward, temporarily ignoring loose stones on the road—he'd clear them quickly before the descent.

Besides marking and observing curves and slopes, he mostly noted unmanageable bumps and cracks on the surface; these mattered nothing to cars but could easily cause a longboard to lose control.

At best, serious injury; at worst, death.

At the 2-kilometer mark, Qin Yun quickened his pace, crouched beside the curve, and found a longitudinal crack—1. meters long, 0. centimeters wide.

He touched it, then immediately recorded on his phone: "K2+100, longitudinal crack, depth 3 cm, no penetration risk, but requires specialized filler to prevent wheel jamming during turns."

On a straight stretch, he could ignore it—just record it.

But here, in this curve, he couldn't; at high speed, his longboard would inevitably pass over it—the risk of wheel jamming was too great.

If it jammed, he'd either die or be permanently disabled.

Thus, he walked, stopped, walked again—his phone's notes filled up completely.

"K2+800, slope rises to 24. °."

"K3+120, guardrail loose."

"K3+530, curve radius 15. meters, clear line of sight, no blind spots—ideal spot for hitting 140 km/h."

"K3+920, many falling rocks—need to clear in advance."

"K4+200, friction coefficient..."

From the descent's starting point to the fork at the end, Qin Yun's pacing estimated the distance at roughly 5. to 5. km.

He turned back, then walked upward along the mountain path.

One pass was just observation—he had to quickly memorize every detail of the entire descent route over the next few days, until he knew it by heart.

Even with full confidence, he dared not be careless when his life was at stake.

Only when night fell did he descend the mountain and return to the guesthouse.

After a simple meal, he sat in front of his room and mentally simulated the entire descent, anticipating every possible problem and devising solutions for each.

…

Daxing Airport, arrivals area.

A figure with long hair flowing over her shoulders approached from afar; seeing her, Qin Yun waved immediately.

Su Huan's eyes lit up; she dragged her luggage and hurried forward.

"Qin Yun."

Taking her suitcase, Qin Yun smiled: "Your flight was punctual. Did you eat breakfast?"

"Ate at the airport," Su Huan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and studied him. "I couldn't tell from your livestreams, but you've gotten so much darker."

"Hahaha, of course—I was in the desert for so long, how could I not?"

Today, Su Huan wore a black wool coat, a black-striped cotton scarf around her neck, and a beige dress underneath; she looked perfectly beautiful.

"But you—I feel like you've gained weight?"

Su Huan glared and slapped him playfully: "What? Don't make things up! I weighed myself this morning—I'm still under fifty-five kilos."

Qin Yun laughed heartily: "Just joking."

They chatted and laughed, soon getting into the car. Though Su Huan was arriving today, Qin Yun hadn't told Shen Hu or the others—he'd just borrowed the car and left.

The car soon joined Raocheng Road; Su Huan raised an eyebrow at Qin Yun: "You're really going to attempt this longboard descent? 140 km/h is way too dangerous—unnecessary."

Qin Yun shook his head, carefree: "Dangerous? Isn't Yaomei Peak dangerous for ordinary people? The primeval forest? The desert? All the same."

"To the expert, it's easy; to the novice, it's impossible. I won't do anything without confidence. Don't worry."

Seeing his expression, Su Huan knew she couldn't persuade him.

She dropped the subject and instead mentioned that DBH personnel would arrive in the afternoon.

Then she brought up Red Bull.

"Did you reach out to Red Bull yourself?"

In Su Huan's view, Qin Yun had never had any business sense—just grunting through livestreams and video recordings.

His commercial experience was virtually zero.

How had he landed a collaboration with Red Bull? Had he finally woken up?

"Met someone by accident—this is how it happened..."

Qin Yun explained how he'd met the Catherine family.

Su Huan could only say such luck was beyond ordinary people's reach.

She pulled out her phone, logged into Red Bull's official website, and soon a photo popped up.

"Is this her?"

Qin Yun glanced and nodded: "Yes, Catherine."

Su Huan read aloud: "Catherine Smith, Director of Content Marketing for Red Bull Asia-Pacific."

Since learning Qin Yun was collaborating with Red Bull, Su Huan had spent yesterday researching everything about the brand.

She hadn't realized until now—almost every extreme sport worldwide had Red Bull's shadow behind it, perfectly embodying the principle: "You risk your life, we pay."

Parkour, skydiving, skateboarding, drifting, surfing, mountain biking, rock climbing—these trendy, cool, adventurous sports had always been Red Bull's favorites.

No wonder Catherine had immediately approved the collaboration after watching Qin Yun's videos.

If Red Bull didn't want Qin Yun, who else deserved their attention?

Two hours later, the car pulled into the guesthouse parking spot.

Qin Yun had already booked her room.

She set down her luggage and immediately pushed him out.

"I need to change clothes."

Qin Yun rubbed his nose, thinking: She hasn't even bathed—why change clothes? Did flying and driving make her dirty?

Su Huan shut the door, pulled out her phone, and took a selfie.

She posted it directly to her Moments: "Yesterday my boss said we needed to sign a contract, so I took an early flight today. Such is the humble life of a worker bee."

Soon, comments flooded in.

Girls posted on Moments not to document life, but to get comments, likes, and even conversations.

Among the many comments, Shen Hu's stood out as the one that made her happiest.

Shen Hu: "Hahaha, so that's why Qin Yun borrowed the car—he was picking you up! This guy's got taste after all."

Smiling, Su Huan exited Moments, changed her top to a thicker garment, wore slimming tights, and slipped on a short skirt, accentuating her long, straight legs.

She checked herself repeatedly in the mirror before opening the door and heading downstairs.

Late November in Beijing had a high of 14–15°C, but the low was just -1°C; temperatures dropped sharply at night.

As soon as she spotted Qin Yun in the lobby, her phone rang.

She picked it up, her expression turning strange, then flipped the screen to show Qin Yun.

"Song Ya!"

Qin Yun stared at the caller ID, puzzled: "You still keep in touch with her? I don't remember that."

Shaking her head, Su Huan said, "We hardly ever contact each other; if we do, it's just liking posts on WeChat Moments."

As she spoke, she tapped to answer.

"Hello, Su Huan, long time no see. You're in Beijing? I just saw your WeChat post—are you with Qin Yun now?"

Su Huan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah, I just got to the guesthouse. What do you want?"

At that moment, Song Ya was at home, still curled up in bed. Hearing Su Huan's words, her right hand clenched involuntarily, and she sat up straight.

"Oh, no big deal. I just saw you're in Beijing and wondered if you'd want to grab a meal together?"

Su Huan raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Sorry, I came to Beijing on a whim. Time's too tight—my boss is pushing me hard. I can't even finish everything before I have to rush back to Hangzhou. Next time."

Song Ya instantly felt relief. Hmph, just another wage slave.

But the moment this thought arose, she suddenly wondered: how was Su Huan with Qin Yun? Could it be…

In an instant, Song Ya had a terrible suspicion, and her face darkened.

"Alright then," she probed. "Do you know Qin Yun's been doing livestreams lately? I heard he's doing pretty well."

Su Huan gave a wry smile. "I know. My boss is Qin Yun now. He has zero planning—he only told me yesterday about the Red Bull partnership, and I had to scramble like crazy. I'm furious."

"…"

"Song Ya… Song Ya… Is the signal bad?"

As the call ended, Song Ya hurled her phone across the room.

"Bitch, bitch, Su Huan, you fucking bitch—running over here to gloat, are you? Stupid bitch!"