Chapter 77: Before the Ski Livestream

Many of Qin Yun’s fans suddenly discovered a livestream announcement on his homepage.

【October 16, 9:00 a.m., Pan’an Ski Resort, don’t miss it】

“Holy shit, Master Qin is finally livestreaming again.”

“Why isn’t it a wilderness livestream? He’s going skiing? Does Master Qin even know how to ski?”

“I want to see Master Qin survive in the wild.”

“Skiing? Master Qin’s gotten fancy—probably just playing around.”

Beneath every video, comments flew in; the vast majority of people held great anticipation for Qin Yun’s livestream, and reservation numbers surged rapidly.

Less than half an hour after posting, Qin Yun found reservations had already reached one hundred thousand; his current fan count had surpassed eight million and kept growing.

Before leaving Beijing, Qin Yun never imagined his self-media journey could progress this smoothly—or that its scale would be so astonishing.

“Anta has been contacted—they’ll sponsor the gear but won’t pay any sponsorship fee.”

Hearing this news from Su Huan, Qin Yun wasn’t surprised. As China’s top sports brand, they likely looked down on a self-made internet celebrity like him; sponsoring his gear was probably just because of his current fanbase.

“Then forget it. Any other options?”

Su Huan said: “Huanteng Sports is willing to sponsor this livestream for three hundred thousand yuan, as long as we display their gear and link their storefront during the stream, with a 5% commission. DJI offered three hundred thousand yuan too—same deal: exposure and storefront link, 5% commission.”

“Good, those two then.” Qin Yun was satisfied; with this, pure sponsorship income totaled six hundred thousand yuan, and if anyone bought products through the storefront, he’d earn commissions—this steady stream wasn’t insignificant.

“Huanteng has a flagship store in Jinhua; the equipment should arrive today.”

“Thanks for your effort.”

After finishing business, Su Huan asked curiously: “How come you know how to ski? Back in college, I remember you were a complete novice—you’d fall half-dead after one run.”

Qin Yun, reminded of his past embarrassment, was speechless: “That’s all ancient history now. A man changes in three days—wait till tomorrow’s livestream and you’ll see.”

“Alright.” Su Huan switched to gossip: “What’s Xiao Zhan really like? Is he handsome? Is Ying Bao really cute?”

Qin Yun satisfied his curiosity, then hung up and drove back to Pan’an Ski Resort with the two snowboards.

He didn’t know when Huanteng’s gear would arrive, so he couldn’t waste today’s time—he’d bought his own equipment.

……

Skiing is a sport with high equipment demands; from beginner to elite level, the professionalism and fit of gear directly determine safety, experience, and upper limits.

Some say skiing gear mainly matters in the snowboard, and the rest isn’t that important.

But check any ski resort’s entry standards—you’ll see basic gear is mandatory: snowboard, bindings, ski boots, helmet, butt pad, knee pads, insulated clothing, goggles, gloves, and more.

Different gear tiers determine technical ceilings.

For example, ski boots: the stiffer they are, the better the control and stability. Ski jackets: professional seam-sealed ones have far superior abrasion resistance and breathability compared to ordinary waterproof gear, plus better cold resistance.

Olympic-level athletes use custom gear—snowboards you can’t even buy in stores, made with aerospace-grade carbon fiber cores; jackets use wind-tunnel-tested aerodynamic fabrics.

After all, it’s competitive sport—any tiny advantage could turn into a medal.

But for Qin Yun, he didn’t need to chase such extremes, so his gear requirements weren’t that strict.

Carrying the snowboards, Qin Yun picked a beginner slope, dressed himself thoroughly, stepped onto the board, and almost instinctively began gliding. Basic skills automatically surfaced in his mind.

Switch stance, flat-ground walking, front-edge braking, back-edge braking, straight-line descent, speed control, turning, edge switching—all basic techniques flowed effortlessly under his feet.

Nearby beginner skiers stared in awe, exclaiming, “Bro, you’re amazing!”

On the beginner slope, almost no one used a snowboard; compared to twin skis, snowboarding was far harder. These beginners couldn’t even glide properly, let alone attempt a snowboard.

Even on intermediate slopes, snowboarders were rare.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to choose snowboards—it was that they were too hard, too costly to learn, and often led to injuries. A snowboarder on the slope was instantly the coolest kid there.

After practicing his skills, Qin Yun started moving. The beginner slope had a vertical drop of twenty meters and a straight-line length of two to three hundred meters, with half the slope completely flat.

He didn’t use the nearby lift track—he just stood on his board, swaying side to side, and jumped straight up. The ski instructor teaching a group of beginners nearby stared in shock.

This wasn’t flat ground—it had a twenty-meter vertical drop and a thirty-degree incline, and he just… wobbled up? How?

Qin Yun ignored them. As he controlled his board, his mastery of the skill deepened; the system’s skills had become pure instinct.

“Hi, are you an instructor? How much per hour?”

Qin Yun reached the summit, took a deep breath, and prepared to start—when a soft voice came from beside him.

He turned and saw two girls. Though bundled up, both had high looks, around twenty years old.

“Sorry, I’m not an instructor,” Qin Yun shook his head; his face mask hid his features.

Zhao Yajun blinked, her eyes wide as if she’d heard something incredible.

Just as Qin Yun was about to move, she grabbed his left arm.

“Master Qin?”

Qin Yun froze. Holy shit—how did she recognize me like this?

Seeing Qin Yun silent, Zhao Yajun added: “You’re Qin Yun, Master Qin?”

Qin Yun pulled his face mask down slightly and whispered: “It’s me. How did you know? Have you watched my livestreams?”

“Wow… it really is you!” Zhao Yajun burst into excitement—but forgot she was standing at the slope’s peak. Her movement made her board slide.

Luckily, her left hand still gripped Qin Yun’s arm; as her board slid, she instinctively yanked his arm.

And Qin Yun was pulled down!

“Aaaah—!”

Zhao Yajun thought she was done for, her face twisted in terror.

But the next instant, a strong arm pressed down—she sank sharply, then heard a voice ahead: “Edge your board inward, hold my hands.”

Qin Yun now stood before Zhao Yajun, sliding backward on his board, both hands gripping hers, posture elegant.

“Aaaah—!” Zhao Yajun kept screaming—but seeing Qin Yun just a meter ahead, her voice suddenly cut off.

She was skiing!

Zhao Yajun’s friend Li Xintian’s mouth hung open, eyes wide as if seeing a ghost, watching Zhao Yajun glide down.

“Master Qin, Master Qin, am I really skiing?”

Zhao Yajun’s heart pounded—since arriving at Pan’an yesterday, she’d been falling constantly, her butt nearly split in four.

Today she’d planned to hire an instructor, but there were too few, and she hadn’t gotten a turn, so she’d gritted her teeth and come again with Li Xintian to “gain experience.” Then she’d casually approached a skilled skier—his voice sounded just like her favorite livestreamer.

She’d dared to ask—and it was him.

“Lower your center of gravity,” Qin Yun glanced back, adjusted his board’s direction, and said, “Stay steady, don’t be afraid—I’m here.”

Those three words—“I’m here”—erased Zhao Yajun’s fear instantly.

Skiing works like this: once you overcome fear, the learning barrier drops sharply. Why do children stand so steadily? Low center of gravity, and no fear.

The two-hundred-meter slope ended quickly. As speed dropped, Qin Yun reversed his grip on her arms, executed a sharp U-turn, then braked hard and stopped.

Qin Yun looked at the excited girl and asked: “How was it? You okay?”

Zhao Yajun looked up, then grabbed his hand eagerly: “That was thrilling! Let’s do it again!”

“…………”

Fine, you’re a beginner—you call the shots.

“Master Qin, why are you in Pan’an?”

Sitting on the lift track, Zhao Yajun asked.

Qin Yun said: “I’m livestreaming here tomorrow, so I came early to scout the terrain.”

“Livestream?” Zhao Yajun gasped. “Master Qin, you’re livestreaming again? Not going back to wilderness survival?”

“Wilderness next time. This time I’m doing it at the ski resort. Don’t forget to watch tomorrow.”

Zhao Yajun’s eyes darted: “Master Qin, where exactly will you livestream tomorrow? Can I come watch in person?”

Qin Yun laughed: “This ski resort isn’t mine—of course you can come.”

He pointed to another direction—the advanced slope. “I’ll livestream there, probably one or two hours.”

Soon, the lift reached the top. They stepped off, and Li Xintian rushed over.

“Yajun, are you okay?”

Zhao Yajun suddenly remembered she hadn’t introduced herself.

“Master Qin, I’m Zhao Yajun. This is my best friend, Li Xintian. Isn’t she pretty and cute? Should I introduce you? Don’t let her clothes fool you—underneath she’s got great curves… uuuuh”

Li Xintian’s face turned bright red. She clamped her hand over Zhao Yajun’s mouth, refusing to even look at Qin Yun.

Qin Yun chuckled: “Hello, I’m Qin Yun—an outdoor livestreamer.”

Zhao Yajun finally broke free from Li Xintian’s grip, pouting: “Master Qin is a ten-million-fan mega-streamer! Xintian, don’t be rude… uuuuh”

Qin Yun shook his head, shifted his board, and glided down.

He smoothly switched edges, left and right, carving a giant “S” into the snow—impossibly cool.

After playing with edge-switching for a while, he began carving. Carving means standing the board on its edge and slicing through the snow.

Ski instructors teaching nearby nearly popped their eyes out.

Ordinary people might not know the difference—they’d think it’s just edge-switching—but they knew: many snowboarders master edge-switching, but carving? Extremely rare.

Even they couldn’t do it!

Too bad this beginner slope didn’t suit advanced moves. After a quick test, Qin Yun found it boring.

Moves like flat 180° turns, carved transitions, or turkey jumps—he tried them and decided it was time to head straight to the advanced slope.

“Master Qin, can you teach us more? We still can’t overcome our fear.”

Zhao Yajun and Li Xintian hurried over as Qin Yun prepared to leave.