CHAPTER 119: CHAPTER 119: MEMORIES (19)

"Ethan Harper!"

Florence Fuller almost jumped up with excitement, "What are you doing here?"

The girl’s exuberance was evident to him, and Ethan couldn’t help but smile, "Is it bad that I’m here?"

"It’s wonderful."

This was quite unexpected for Florence Fuller.

"Weren’t you back in France? And now you’re here again..."

"There’s nothing much going on over there," he noticed Florence was carrying a travel bag, "Going skiing?"

"Yeah," Florence said, "I didn’t come all this way for nothing, Aunt Monrose has already found me a coach."

Ethan reached out and took the bag from her hand, "I’ll join you."

Florence let out a sound of surprise, "When did you arrive? Don’t you need some rest?"

"No need, I slept on the plane."

Florence walked beside him, noticeably much happier.

This was truly a surprise to him.

At the ski lodge, Ethan didn’t have any ski gear, so he intended to buy a set here.

Florence changed and came out, while the staff brought in the ski gear Ethan selected, one piece at a time.

Florence walked over, "You’re going to ski too?"

Ethan nodded.

"But," she was a bit worried about Ethan’s legs, even though he had been recovering for quite a while and had been working out to strengthen his body, she was still concerned about skiing, which was such an intense sport.

The staff left the room.

Florence put on her gloves.

Ethan approached her, helping her put on gloves, a hat, and some protective gear.

"I haven’t skied in years either," he squeezed Florence’s hand, "I’d like to give it a try."

Florence looked at him, "Then be careful, I’m not very good at this either, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you."

Ethan smiled, his gaze resting on her fair cheeks.

Florence met his gaze.

Their straight and intense gazes met, their eyes seemed to hold the same feelings for each other, Ethan restrained himself as he adjusted Florence’s helmet, "You should go first, the coach is waiting for you."

Florence lowered her gaze and walked out.

From another door in the lodge leading directly to the ski slopes, Florence’s coach was a handsome, tall guy about six foot two, who probably received instructions from above to be exceptionally gentle and patient in his teaching approach with her.

When Ethan stood ready on the snowy slope, taking in the view of white snow, he paused for a moment.

Born into the Harper Family as the legitimate sole son and heir, the family had placed immense expectations on him.

Every aspect of his upbringing had been geared towards becoming the family successor, whether in academics or interests, he had to excel.

Since the age of ten, he had been accompanying Mr. Harper to be involved with the Polaris Consortium, all while balancing his studies, because of the high standards his father set for him.

At fifteen, he graduated with a double degree and began to engage with the Polaris Consortium’s inner workings when a car accident threatened to end this prodigy.

He barely survived, but lost sensation in his legs, with doctors saying he would never recover.

Mr. Harper abandoned this rightful heir and began to gather his illegitimate children from outside.

Abigail Monrose, for the first time with utmost defiance, stood up to her extremely selfish and dark-hearted husband, leaving a divorce agreement and taking her son away from the troubles of France.

After the car accident at fifteen, he hadn’t skied again. After seven years, not only did he stand up again, but he also stepped onto this once familiar snowy path.

As well as having Florence.

His gaze softened, what could be a better resurgence than this?

On another ski path.

Florence felt she had some talent, but not much.

Without mastering skis, she went straight for the snowboard out of novelty, and ended up falling countless times, luckily the ski path was reserved for her, otherwise, her repeated falls would have been quite embarrassing.

She had fallen to the ground countless times, exhausted, the coach helped her up, asking if she wanted to go back to skis.

When Ethan arrived, he saw this scene.

The girl in a bright red ski suit was being held up by the coach in a black ski suit, even through the thick ski gear, those arms wrapped around Florence’s waist made his heart tense, and he instinctively strode over.

Florence felt she needed some self-awareness, she nodded, stabilized herself with the coach’s help, and planned to take off the snowboard.

"Florence."

The gentle and warm voice made Florence turn around in a second, seeing him approaching in a dark purple ski suit that accentuated his tall and strong figure, her voice sweetened involuntarily, "You’re here～"

Ethan came over and naturally stretched out his hand, Florence grabbed it, "How are you?"

"Pretty good, getting the hang of it."

"Did you fall?"

"No."

"Then you’re amazing," Florence sighed, with a hint of grievance in her tone, "I fell so many times it hurts."

Ethan noticed the snowboard at her feet, "Weren’t you using skis?"

"I just wanted to try something new." Feeling unsteady on her feet, she wrapped her arms around Ethan’s waist, leaning closer to him, and Ethan wrapped his arm around her to steady her.

Then he nodded to the coach in black, signaling him he could leave.

He’s here now.

The coach quickly understood the ambiguous atmosphere between the two and nodded, leaving immediately.

But since he was on salary, and this particular job was specified not to slack off, with time not yet up, he’d just keep an eye from the side.

"Will you teach me?" Florence watched the coach’s departing figure.

"Yeah."

Florence looked up at him, unable to see his facial expressions through the goggles, but she could sense the tender gaze, "Be careful, okay?"

Ethan chuckled, slightly lowering his head, their helmets bumping into each other, and Florence laughed out loud.

"What’s so funny?"

"Guess?" Her voice was playful and teasing, rubbing her hand away from Ethan’s waist and then grabbing his hand.

Her strength was on him, yet Ethan remained stable.

The coach from a distance observed the two moving, then noticed that the girl he taught earlier, was falling into the man’s arms.

Either falling into his arms, or pouncing into them.

Occasionally, the man was tackled down by her, the girl lying on top of him, laughing heartily.

From so far away, the coach could hear Florence’s crisp, joyful laughter.

When he taught her earlier, Florence wasn’t falling like that, either she tumbled or wobbled backward, or just sat on the ground.

Anyone could tell these falls were intentional, deliberately aiming at the man.

Yet the man didn’t seem angry at all, rather he seemed to enjoy it, and he’d hold onto her without rushing her up, or sit with her in his arms, the two crowded together with their helmets, who knows what they were talking about.

They seemed incredibly close, full of tenderness and affection.