The Cold Queen is My Exclusive Little Snack - Chapter 37

Chu Shiyin’s childhood environment was far worse than that of the children at Pingxia Elementary School. She only came to understand many things later in life.

She first encountered rollerblading a few years ago while filming a movie.

Blessed with excellent athletic instincts, she picked up new skills quickly. Recalling her muscle memory proved easy; after just two practice runs, she was gliding forward and backward with ease.

Zuo Xingning, however, struggled.

Her last time rollerblading was… well, the last time.

She couldn’t even remember which grade it was in elementary school. All she recalled was that one year, a sudden rollerblading craze swept through her class.

How intense was the craze? They’d skate a couple of laps across any patch of open ground they could find.

Initially, rollerblading was just another strange competition among the children, with invitations to skate at the park after school.

But then someone boldly brought their rollerblades to school, and the students suddenly realized: We can do this here too?!

In an instant, jump-roping and hopscotch during recess were replaced by figures on rollerblades. After two “collisions,” the school strictly banned rollerblading on campus.

But that didn’t matter. Elementary schoolers are full of ideas.

If they couldn’t skate at school, they’d skate to and from school instead!

Imagine: while other students are being picked up by their parents, you glide past them on roller skates, a blur of motion, leaving them staring after you with envy. How cool is that?!

A child who hasn’t even earned their elementary school diploma couldn’t possibly resist such a temptation!

Zuo Xingning certainly couldn’t, but she was a bit of a show-off as a child, so she kept her desire to herself.

She resolved to secretly work hard, master the most difficult tricks, and then dazzle everyone!

And then…

There was no “then.”

The weather turned cold, and the roller skating craze froze solid after a sudden temperature drop. It never thawed even when spring arrived the following year.

Zuo Xingning’s meticulously prepared new roller skates, meant for a grand debut, never saw the light of day. They joined her battle-worn training skates in eternal slumber.

After countless winters, her skating skills had long since become like Sleeping Beauty, trapped in a thorny castle, impossible to awaken.

Chu Shiyin dragged her along like a small weight.

“Stand up straight,” Chu Shiyin whispered in her ear. “Look at that little girl over there—she’s learning much faster than you.”

Before Zuo Xingning could reply, a whoosh filled her ears as a mushroom-haired girl zipped past her.

The little girl hadn’t yet learned to mask her expressions. Her eyes darted between Zuo Xingning’s face and her hands clutching Chu Shiyin’s, before she shook her head.

Zuo Xingning: “……”

Though the girl hadn’t said a word, Zuo Xingning was certain she’d been mocked.

“Jiejie,” she straightened her back, her legs slightly bowed inward, “let go. I can do it myself.”

“You’re the one holding onto me,” Chu Shiyin reminded her.

Though Chu Shiyin had initially taken Zuo Xingning’s hand, after only two meters, Zuo Xingning had seized both of Chu Shiyin’s hands, gripping them so tightly that Chu Shiyin couldn’t even bend her fingers.

Zuo Xingning’s face flushed crimson as she hastily released her grip. Like a baby penguin learning to walk, she shuffled forward one step at a time.

Chu Shiyin’s lips curved into a gentle smile, her gaze softening.

Once Zuo Xingning overcame her fear of losing balance, she quickly picked up the technique. Her tall frame and long legs allowed her to effortlessly close the distance between herself and the mushroom-haired girl.

Catching up, Zuo Xingning asked, “What’s your name?”

The girl blinked her dark, ink-black eyes and replied sweetly, “Tang Xinran. Xinran means ‘joyful.'”

“I’m Zuo Xingning. Xing means ‘star,’ and Ning means ‘solidify.'”

“I know you,” Tang Xinran slowed down, carefully turning around in place to glide back the way she came. “Teacher Lin said you and Jiejie Shuyun are both big stars.”

Shuyun was a character Chu Shiyin played in a television drama early in her career. It was this role that catapulted her to national fame. Even those unfamiliar with the entertainment industry would immediately call out “Shuyun!” upon seeing Chu Shiyin.

“Shuyun…” Zuo Xingning chuckled, following Tang Xinran as she turned a corner. “She definitely is a superstar, but I’m just a small-time actress.”

“Aren’t actors celebrities too?”

“…Well, yes.”

Tang Xinran glanced around. “There are so many people with cameras here today, Jiejie. Are you filming a movie at our school? Will I be on TV too?”

“Probably. But we’re not filming a movie, it’s a micro-variety show and some public service announcements.”

“What’s a micro-variety show?”

“It’s… uh, a miniature variety show?”

Zuo Xingning faltered, struggling to explain it simply enough for Tang Xinran, who looked no older than nine. Before she could come up with a better explanation, an unexpected danger struck.

“Watch out!”

The warning came too late. Zuo Xingning had already spotted the dark shadow hurtling toward them.

It was a large, black German Shepherd, moving with terrifying speed.

Tang Xinran screamed in terror and fell to the ground with a thud. Zuo Xingning gritted her teeth, spun her rollerblades, and charged toward the black dog before she had even regained her balance.

It might have been a member of the “Woof Woof Squad” from outside the school gates, come to beg for food. Or perhaps it just wanted to play… or it could be a rabid dog.

A tiny child stood nearby, too young to understand the danger. With no time to assess the dog’s intentions, Zuo Xingning had no choice but to confront it, stripping off her trench coat as she skated.

The stiff, structured trench coat crackled loudly when she swung it forcefully, startling the black dog and making it hesitate to approach.

Glancing back, Zuo Xingning saw a teacher had already scooped up Tang Xinran. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to leave, only to realize her rollerblades were accelerating uncontrollably.

This is a downhill slope!

“Get out of the way! Aaaaaah!”

Panicked, she had no time to adjust her stance. She screamed at the dumbfounded dog to move, then could only stare wide-eyed as the freshly painted white wall loomed closer.

She instinctively closed her eyes, crossed her arms to shield her face, and braced for impact. Her mind went blank, her last thought being:

Mom’s genes… a little bump shouldn’t break anything.

“Xingning!”

A sharp shout cut through the chaos. Before Zuo Xingning could open her eyes, a sudden weight pressed against her waist.

Chu Shiyin gripped Zuo Xingning’s waist, pulling her into a sharp turn that barely avoided the wall.

To catch up with Zuo Xingning, Chu Shiyin had been skating at high speed. The momentum made it difficult to slow down after the turn.

Zuo Xingning, still a beginner, couldn’t keep up. Just as she was about to fall, Chu Shiyin swiftly turned to face her.

“Relax,” Chu Shiyin instructed. “Keep your toes pointed down.”

Zuo Xingning paused, then followed her instructions.

Chu Shiyin gripped her waist and, with a fluid motion, guided her into a spin to dissipate the momentum.

Zuo Xingning wore a low ponytail, while Chu Shiyin’s hair flowed freely.

Even the wind seemed to favor her, lifting strands into the air that only enhanced her beauty, adding a touch of wild abandon to her usual composure.

It was a completely different aura from her usual demeanor.

Zuo Xingning stared, mesmerized, not even noticing when they stopped.

Chu Shiyin was amused by her dazed expression. Her dark eyes curved into a warm smile.

“Want to try again?”

Zuo Xingning nodded, then shook her head.

She probably didn’t even understand the question, simply gazing at Chu Shiyin and murmuring, “Jiejie…”

“Jiejie.”

A child’s innocent voice broke the silence. “Are you going to kiss?”

Chu Shiyin & Zuo Xingning: “…”

During the filming period, Zuo Xingning and her group were staying in villagers’ homes.

By coincidence, the four of them were lodging at Tang Xinran’s house. After the school bell rang, they packed up their roller skates and walked home with Tang Xinran.

Lin Fei, walking ahead, explained to Tang Xinran that not everyone kisses after hugging and spinning around—that’s just something you see in dramas.

Zuo Xingning swore Lin Fei was doing it on purpose, since Tang Xinran hadn’t even asked.

Her ears burned all night, and Zuo Xingning didn’t dare look at Chu Shiyin in front of the others.

Winter on Pingxia Mountain wasn’t as cold as in Ancheng. Only at night did the chill creep in with the wind, its icy tendrils curling upward.

After washing up, Zuo Xingning rubbed her fingertips together and peeked around the courtyard, searching for Chu Shiyin.

She couldn’t find her.

A strange fragrance mingled with the cold wind, adding a sharp, icy note to the air. She could smell it, but the source remained hidden.

Just as Zuo Xingning was growing puzzled, a tapping sound came from above.

She looked up and met Chu Shiyin’s smiling face bathed in moonlight.

“The sky is beautiful tonight,” Chu Shiyin said. “Want to come up and stargaze?”

The mountain village was quiet at night, even the moon seemed to hold its breath.

The moon on the eleventh day of the lunar month, known as the “waxing gibbous,” was more than half illuminated by the sun. Its light wasn’t too bright nor too dim, making it perfect for stargazing.

A mat had been spread on the ground. Chu Shiyin, having unearthed a heavy military coat from somewhere, draped it over her shoulders. As Zuo Xingning climbed the stairs, she saw Chu Shiyin pat the spot beside her with one hand.

Zuo Xingning squeezed over, sharing half the coat and even tucking her head inside. From behind, they looked like a small green tent had been pitched.

“Cold?” Chu Shiyin asked.

Zuo Xingning shook her head, gazing up at the sky. “So many stars,” she marveled.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Chu Shiyin stretched her legs, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in her hands, adopting a relaxed posture. “The stars are even more stunning in summer.”

“When I was little, before we had air conditioning, it was so hot in summer that I’d sleep in the courtyard almost every night. We’d light mosquito coils, leave the gate open, and let the cool breeze blow through. It was so refreshing.”

“The summer stars are especially bright. On clear nights, you can even see the Milky Way with the naked eye. And sometimes, you’ll catch a shooting star…”

Perhaps because she was in familiar surroundings, Chu Shiyin found herself talking more than usual. She plucked pleasant memories from her past and shared them with Zuo Xingning.

Unfortunately, such moments were few.

Before the sticky tendrils of her past could catch up, Chu Shiyin stopped talking. “Is this boring?”

“Not at all,” Zuo Xingning said, her eyes curving into a smile. “Jiejie, you rarely talk about your childhood. I want to hear more.”

“What’s there to tell? I’ve forgotten most of it…” Chu Shiyin sighed, propping herself up with one hand behind her and tilting her head back. “Let’s just look at the stars.”

The two fell silent on the rooftop. After a moment, Zuo Xingning leaned forward and pecked Chu Shiyin on the cheek.

“What was that for?” Chu Shiyin turned her head. As the moon drifted westward, their shadows shifted with it, plunging the upper half of her face into the darkness cast by her military coat, deepening the shadows around her eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought you seemed sad, so I wanted to kiss you.” Zuo Xingning stopped looking at the stars and focused solely on Chu Shiyin. “Jiejie, is your hometown similar to this place?”

“Maybe. It’s been so long since I’ve been back, I don’t even know what it’s like there now.”

“I see…”

Realizing she couldn’t continue the conversation, Zuo Xingning changed the subject. “I never imagined I’d get to participate in this project.”

Chu Shiyin’s involvement in rural education charities was no secret in the industry, but it only came to light due to a premeditated smear campaign.

At the time, Chu Shiyin hadn’t yet achieved her current level of fame. Marketing accounts used veiled language to accuse a “rising starlet” of “charity stunts,” their veiled barbs aimed squarely at Chu Shiyin, who was trending on social media for a recent charity event.

The public, deeply resentful of those who used charity to burnish their image, immediately flooded her comment sections with criticism. The onslaught only subsided when donation certificates began surfacing one after another.

These certificates spanned years, proving that Chu Shiyin had been donating since her university days, when she first began working part-time to support herself.

Faced with irrefutable evidence, casual observers fell silent, while trolls and paid commenters retreated. Without uttering a word, Chu Shiyin had won the public opinion battle.

Her fans, the “Second Hand,” were both heartbroken and deeply moved. They established a special hashtag, and every year on the anniversary of the incident, the hashtag flooded with donation certificates.

Zuo Xingning had once been among those posting certificates, but she never imagined she would one day work alongside Chu Shiyin on a charity project in person.

The media had repeatedly asked Chu Shiyin about her motivation for doing charity work, but she had never given a direct answer.

After visiting Pingxia Mountain, Zuo Xingning began to form some ideas.

“So, Jiejie,” she asked, “you’ve been doing charity work all this time because when you were little, you and Xinran were very similar, right?”

“Hmm, you could say that.”

Chu Shiyin gazed at Zuo Xingning’s luminous eyes under the moonlight, suddenly feeling an urge to tell her everything. “The people who helped me back then…”

“No wonder I kept hearing voices,” Lin Fei said, climbing up the stairs. “Why are you two up here in the middle of the night, catching a cold on the roof?”

“We’re stargazing,” Zuo Xingning replied.

With someone else present, Chu Shiyin’s smile faded as she stood up. “Let’s go. It’s time we got some rest.”

Zuo Xingning nodded, but before falling asleep, she couldn’t stop thinking about the unfinished sentence Chu Shiyin had left hanging.

“Jiejie, you were saying upstairs…”

“Shh, time to sleep,” Chu Shiyin interrupted, knowing exactly what Zuo Xingning wanted to ask.

The impulse to confess had passed. She still preferred to let Zuo Xingning remember it herself.

To remember that summer when Chu Shiyin had descended into her life like a shooting star in broad daylight.

This was Chu Shiyin’s own unique miracle.