Gu Zhaoping had no interest in this person, but she was quite intrigued by skiing.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
If she had understood earlier that this conversation was initiated by him for the sake of his brother, Valentine, then now she was somewhat puzzled about the intention behind his request.
She asked, "Will Valentine be joining us?"
Theodore stared at her, then glanced away with what seemed like a faint smile. "No, he won't."
Now, Gu Zhaoping simply observed him quietly, trying to discern his motives from his expression.
"Purely in my personal capacity, I’d like to invite Miss Gu to go skiing. Would you be interested?"
"That depends on your answer first. I’ll still be attending the forum in a few days, so will you be there to listen and agree to my wager?"
His tone remained composed, completely unfazed by her deflection.
This was the first time since coming of age that Theodore had lost control of a conversation.
He had met many strong-willed people, and even more who were both strong-willed and intelligent. But someone like Gu Zhaoping was a first—unyielding, sharp, and utterly dismissive of social conventions.
There was something oddly unsettling about her presence. Her demeanor didn’t align with her background; it felt as though it had been forged on a higher plane.
Because of Valentine, Theodore had taken the time to look into Gu Zhaoping’s background—her education, upbringing, and even some media coverage and public opinion in her home country.
By all accounts, the information painted her as a spoiled heiress, someone raised on wealth and privilege.
People like that were usually expected to do nothing more than spend money and enjoy life. No one demanded much from them. Perhaps such a life was enviable—born with everything, needing no effort.
Theodore had relatives like that. In fact, he had once hoped Valentine would turn out the same way.
Unfortunately, as Valentine grew up, he didn’t become the carefree playboy Theodore had envisioned. Instead, he developed an extraordinary drive, forcing Theodore to divert attention just to keep an eye on him.
Unable to resist, he asked, "Miss Gu, your life has already been smooth sailing. Why be so aggressive?"
Why insist on this bet? There were plenty of easier paths she could take.
He had thought the same about Valentine.
Gu Zhaoping leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, one leg casually crossed over the other, watching Theodore in silence.
After a moment, she smiled.
"Have you ever considered stepping back?" That was all she asked him.
Her voice was measured as she continued, "Your life is already perfect—far smoother than mine. At least you don’t have to deal with the obligations of an arranged marriage, do you?"
"You also don’t have a foolish younger sister who was handed inheritance rights from birth, making her the priority in everyone’s eyes. No matter what grand ambitions you have, you’re expected to sacrifice them for her ‘greater good.’"
"No matter how important the family affairs, they never involve you. You’re left to enjoy blissful ignorance, free of responsibility, content with your share of the wealth, waiting only to marry out of the family. Your future hinges on whether your marriage is happy, whether your wife is reliable enough to safeguard the fortune you bring with you. If you’re lucky, you’ll live a life of indulgence, blissfully unaware, never needing to worry about a thing."
Gu Zhaoping delivered this calmly, and Theodore’s polite smile had faded slightly by the end.
He knew exactly what she meant. He had never wanted such a life—power was only secure when held in one’s own hands.
Moreover, he had never considered submitting to anyone, let alone a foolish peer.
Not even the exceptionally talented Valentine. He couldn’t tolerate losing to him by even an inch—he had to stay ahead of him and everyone else in their generation.
He studied Gu Zhaoping deeply, at a loss for words.
He realized now—she didn’t care about being doted on. Affection was the gaze of those beneath, trading their agency for favors and convenience.
For a wealthy heiress, familial affection was more like a gilded cage.
Those who gained everything without relying on their own abilities would one day lose it all for reasons beyond their control.
But once you’ve tasted what it’s like to rise to the top by your own strength, to look down upon others, there’s no going back.
She also didn’t care whether the people around her were good or bad. Someone like her placed all her faith in herself. Others’ opinions were just noise; their actions, mere gusts of wind.
"Power must remain in your own hands," Gu Zhaoping said matter-of-factly. She leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the table. "In Chinese, ‘power’ is two words—‘quan’ and ‘li.’ Do you know what ‘quan’ means?"
Theodore watched her silently before finally shaking his head, his expression somber.
"A counterweight," Gu Zhaoping said. "It sways to measure weight—its mass defines the value of others."
She smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "Forgive me, but I prefer to be the one defining others’ worth."
Though she said "forgive me," there wasn’t a trace of apology in her expression. On the contrary, she looked arrogantly self-assured, as though it were only natural.
Theodore stared at her in silence for a long moment before finally saying, "I don’t understand Chinese."
"But your explanation is impressive. I like the meaning."
He extended his hand, this time with far more gravity, as if sealing an unspoken pact. "I look forward to witnessing your speech at the upcoming forum—and how you seize power within your family."
Theodore had once thought himself rather aimless. But everything he had worked for, the position he had secured, was precisely so he could afford to indulge in such "aimless" pursuits.
"Fine." Gu Zhaoping was unflappable. "Skiing is an interesting activity. I used to enjoy it, and this backcountry slope is excellent."
Then she added, "Oh, should we draft an agreement?"
Theodore was momentarily taken aback before laughing in disbelief.
Gu Zhaoping had a habit of leaving a paper trail for everything.
...
After driving for two days and two nights, Gu Zhaosi finally arrived at the foot of this snow-capped mountain.
The moment he stepped out of the car, he saw several messages pop up in his inbox. Thinking it was from his advisor, he hurriedly opened them to read carefully.
Turns out, some idiot had leaked his contact information to Gu Kaichang, who was now inexplicably losing his mind, berating him in the emails, calling him scheming and accusing him of secretly buttering up Grandpa behind his back.
What the hell? He hadn’t contacted Grandpa in months—half a year, to be precise. The last time was during Qingming Festival.
Grandpa had called to ask if he wasn’t coming back to gather with the family for ancestral worship.
Gu Zhaosi thought about it honestly and replied, "No direct relatives of mine have passed away."
Even his never-before-seen grandmother wasn’t deceased—she had divorced at a young age and cut all ties with the Gu family. She hadn’t lived in the country for years and had no contact with them.
Besides, the ancestors they were supposed to worship were people he’d never even met. Kneeling and kowtowing to beg for their blessings? As if that would work. And let’s be real—the Gu family only ever prayed for business deals worth hundreds of millions. Maybe the ancestors up there groaned every time they saw the Gu clan burning paper offerings, knowing these guys were just trying to hustle their way into another windfall.
When they were alive, their relationships were a mess—fighting over inheritance, lawsuits, corporate wars. But once they died, suddenly it was all about face and rituals? He truly didn’t get this tradition.
Grandpa fell silent, thoroughly pissed off by his words.
After all, wasn’t Gu Zhaosi’s only elderly direct relative… him?
For a long time, Grandpa hadn’t reached out to Gu Zhaosi, which suited him just fine.
If even Grandpa wasn’t thinking about him, who else would? That meant he could live even more freely.
Well, except now there was Gu Kaichang, apparently still hung up on him. Thanks a lot—he’d been gone for ages, yet someone was still obsessively fixated on him.
Gu Zhaosi held his snowboard under one arm, pulled off a glove with his teeth, and swiftly typed into his email with his freed hand:
"Failed again? Instead of reflecting on yourself, you’re blaming the world? You’ve gone through everyone around you, and now it’s my turn?"
"Ha, no worries. Strong people don’t complain about their circumstances. But you’re not strong, so go ahead and whine all you want."
Gu Kaichang’s furious replies were practically getting him banned, but Gu Zhaosi didn’t bother reading further. He shoved his phone into his pocket and continued up the mountain.
Wait.
Had he just seen some news notification pop up?
Gu Zhaosi froze, then frantically pulled his phone back out, unlocking it with numb fingers.
What the hell? An article about Gu Zhaoping?
He’d assumed it was some gossip about Gu Zhaoping and Chu Yanze, but the moment he clicked, his jaw dropped. It was a report about Gu Zhaoping winning first place in a business simulation game on some variety show!
What kind of alternate universe was this? Even Gu Zhaoye had lost over 30,000 in the game, yet Gu Zhaoping came out on top?
Stunned, he clutched his snowboard to his chest and scrolled through the articles with his other hand, reading and rereading, as if the name "Gu Zhaoping" belonged to a stranger.
Was this really his sister?
The same Gu Zhaoping who spent her days flitting between high-end clubs, drowning in the attention of male models—someone who knew more about abs than business opportunities?
Gu Zhaosi checked his emails again. Ah, so this was why Gu Kaichang was losing it. Did he think Gu Zhaoping had been hiding her skills all along, and now he was dragging Gu Zhaosi into the blame game?
Seriously? What "hidden skills" did he even have?
Said Gu Zhaosi, who had debuted under a pseudonym and won awards. Grumbling, he carried his snowboard up the mountain, still glued to his phone even as the ski lift ascended.
He rewatched the clip of Gu Zhaoping analyzing bids over and over, but it still felt surreal. Everything about her—her style, tone, mannerisms, even how she treated others—was unfamiliar, as if he’d never met her before.
This was bizarre. Had he really been that out of touch with his family?
Dark clouds drifted over the mountain, casting shadows across the slopes. Lost in the video, Gu Zhaosi barely noticed.
When the lift reached the summit, he hopped off, his phone-clutching hand now stiff from the cold. He shook it out, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen to adjust his gear.
Dressed in bold-colored ski wear, Gu Zhaosi stood against the stark white slope, the wind whipping at his jacket.
So Gu Zhaoping was suddenly a genius? Whatever, not his problem.
Fine, maybe it made sense. Business was her major, after all. It wasn’t completely absurd that she knew this stuff.
As for Gu Zhaoye? The guy was a lovestruck idiot—no surprise there. Even if the two of them fought to the death, he wouldn’t spare them a glance.
Who inherited the family business meant nothing to him. He disliked both of them equally—if there was a vote, he’d rather kick the ballot box than participate.
Though, technically, he did own some shares in the family company, so his vote would carry weight…
Not that he cared.
This backcountry slope was brutal. Peering down, Gu Zhaosi shivered. The wind sliced through him like a blade, and only now, standing at the edge, did his legs feel slightly weak.
The drop was nearly vertical—one wrong move, and he’d go sliding uncontrollably. The snow was uneven, too: thick in some spots (risk of sinking), perilously thin in others (hidden rocks).
The slope was jagged with crevices, flanked by towering cliffs that seemed primed for an avalanche. His mind flashed with images of those extreme sports commercials.
Here, every move had to be precise. One misstep, and death felt uncomfortably close.
Staring down, Gu Zhaosi broke a sweat.
Sure, he loved skiing and had tackled plenty of slopes, but this one was next-level dangerous. Even professional athletes had wiped out here.
Though he was skilled among amateurs, there were no guarantees.
He’d sneaked off to ski without telling his manager. If the guy found out he’d risked this right before returning to China, he’d kill him.
Only when standing at the top of the ski slope did Gu Zhaosi begin to feel a twinge of regret—this looked far more dangerous than he had imagined.
"Does this difficulty scare you?"
The voice came from the man beside him, a guy who had ridden the cable car up with what appeared to be his girlfriend. Gu Zhaosi couldn’t help but glance over.
Both were bundled tightly in ski gear and goggles, making it impossible to see their faces. But judging by the tone, the man sounded completely unfazed. Seriously, not even a hint of fear?
Gu Zhaosi’s eyes locked onto the man’s high-end ski equipment. Damn it, his gear was even better than mine. What gives?
Another rich kid out here to show off?
Or maybe trying to impress his girlfriend?
The woman next to him spoke up. "Are you scared?"
The man chuckled. "Not at all."
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, I won’t ask again. I believe you can handle anything."
"That’s a given. Saying it out loud doesn’t earn you any extra points."
The woman turned back toward the steep descent ahead. "This slope’s manageable. I’ve tackled worse before."
The man seemed momentarily speechless before offering a more sincere apology.
Gu Zhaosi was even more dumbfounded.
What the hell? Are you two seriously showing off at my expense?
Though the woman’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, he didn’t have time to dwell on it. The starting point of the slope was narrow, and with only a few people ahead, it was soon Gu Zhaosi’s turn. Just then, the woman behind him suddenly asked,
"You going?"
Gu Zhaosi stiffened. The sheer drop before him made his back prickle with sweat. But after coming this far, how could he back out now?
Clenching his teeth, he muttered, "Yeah, of course I’m going."
No problem. It’s fine.
Mustering every ounce of courage, he inched forward.
And then—disaster.
As the young man ahead of them finally took off, distant screams echoed through the mountains.
ᶜʰᵘⁿʳⁱ
Theodore turned to Gu Zhaoping. "You want to go first—"
Before he could finish, Gu Zhaoping was already gone.
Like a gust of wind, she shot forward without hesitation.
The moment she pushed off, she dropped into a flawless stance—knees slightly bent, weight centered, poised for maximum control.
In an instant, she became a human arrow, hurtling down the slope.
Gu Zhaoping had impeccable balance and masterful command of her movements. Her speed only intensified as she descended.
Approaching the first sharp turn, she shifted effortlessly, carving a crisp arc into the snow, powder spraying in her wake.
Ahead, a rocky outcrop emerged—but to her, it was just a natural ramp. Without missing a beat, she accelerated, launching into the air with effortless grace.
For a suspended moment, she seemed to hang mid-flight.
Then, landing with a smooth bend of her knees, she absorbed the impact and continued as if it were nothing, gliding like a surfer on a wave.
The slope grew steeper, the terrain more treacherous, yet Gu Zhaoping navigated it all with ease, weaving through obstacles with precision that left onlookers stunned.
The snowstorm itself seemed like mere scenery for her speed.
Theodore blinked, snapping out of his daze just in time to start his own descent.
Meanwhile, Gu Zhaosi was barely holding on.
A sharp turn loomed ahead—too sharp.
He tried to slow down, but the incline was unforgiving.
Then, the snowfall thickened, obscuring his vision.
Panic set in. His balance faltered, and he nearly collided with a tree. After a frantic scream, he swerved just in time—only to realize the path ahead led straight to a cliff.
What the hell?!
This wasn’t part of the route he’d planned!
What now?!
Terror seized him. He tried to brake, but another skier zipped past, forcing him to veer off course.
Now he was hurtling downhill like a runaway boulder. A cluster of dead trees flashed by—beyond them, the abyss.
Gu Zhaosi shrieked, regret crashing over him. He never should’ve tried to show off!
Was this how he’d die?!
At twenty-something years old?!
Just as he neared the edge, a blur shot past.
A sharp impact jolted his skis—pain exploded through his legs, nearly sending him tumbling.
But then, a hand grabbed him, yanking him sideways.
After a brief, chaotic drag, the grip released near a gentler slope.
Gu Zhaosi collapsed face-first into the snow, gasping.
For a second, his vision whited out.
Am I dead?
Wait—no.
He wiggled his limbs. Everything still attached. His ankle throbbed—probably fractured—but he was alive.
That was all that mattered.
For the first time, death had felt inches away. Extreme sports weren’t just thrilling—they were a gamble with nature itself.
God, I take back calling you "grandpa." You clearly don’t give a damn about me.
Shaking violently, Gu Zhaosi lay there, too overwhelmed to even cry. Each ragged breath fogged the snow beneath him as he fought to steady himself.
Perhaps fearing he might die, the woman who had braked sharply ahead turned back.
Planting her ski poles forward, she slid back to Gu Zhaosi’s side.
Only when he heard the crisp sound of skis landing on snow did Gu Zhaosi pause and lift his head.
"Are you still alive?" the woman asked coolly, looking down at him.
Her voice sounded familiar—likely the same woman from that couple earlier.
Gu Zhaosi slowly peered up through his ski goggles.
At that moment, the woman pushed her own goggles up, revealing a pair of eyes.
Just then, the clouds parted slightly, and a blinding ray of sunlight spilled down, outlining her figure with a golden halo.
Gu Zhaosi’s pupils constricted sharply.
For a moment, he truly felt the so-called "suspension bridge effect" raging wildly within him.
It was as if some deity or ghost had heard his desperate plea and instantly granted it.
This wasn’t just irony.
Nor was it mere shock or surprise.
It was simply that, after the thrill of surviving against all odds, Gu Zhaosi completely lost his composure.
He froze for a long moment, staring into those eyes as if trying to confirm something.
Even Gu Zhaoping grew puzzled by his reaction, wondering if he’d hit his head too hard—if she should call for a medic.
Just as she was about to raise her head and signal for help, Theodore caught up from behind. Slowing his approach, he took in the scene, only to see the man Gu Zhaoping had rescued suddenly lunge forward and wrap his arms around her legs!
Theodore’s pupils shrank.
Gu Zhaoping’s did the same.
Rarely did two people, both ruled by logic above all else, find themselves so utterly stunned.
But the man didn’t stop there. As if possessed, he clung to her thigh and let out an uncouth, wailing cry—
"Big sis!!!"
