Struggles to capture the soul of snowboarding
Lately, Ski into Love (嘘，国王在冬眠) has been circulating in the snowboarding community, so I decided to give it a shot. Snowboarding is my life, and no matter how flawed the content, I will consume it because action sports are so rarely depicted in media - and when they are, it’s often with a misunderstanding that borders on mischaracterization.
My approach to this drama was twofold: to assess it both as a story and from a technical and cultural perspective, offering insight into the culture and history of the sport. Initially, I came in with a lot of skepticism, worried about its authenticity. However, as the series progressed, I found myself praying it wouldn’t completely fuck up its depiction of snowboarding. Whether it succeeded or not, I’m still on the fence. While I didn’t learn anything new - and I have plenty of factual errors to nitpick - I had fun identifying the snowboard models, shooting locations, and analyzing tricks.
The Spirit of Snowboarding
Snowboarding, like its action sports counterparts, is more than just a sport; it’s a way of life. It’s a culture deeply rooted in music, fashion, and community - a group bonded by their passion for riding. Fun comes first; talent is secondary. The irony of this drama is that the entire plot feels like it was written by Wei Zhi herself - someone with little understanding of snowboarding but trying her best.
I can overlook the title mistranslation ("Ski into Love", even though the show is about snowboarding). The issue of calling them “ski slopes” and “ski resorts” when snowboarders share the terrain hasn’t been resolved in real life either. In Chinese, both skiing and snowboarding fall under 滑雪 (huáxuě), with the only differentiator being 单板 (single board, snowboarding) and 双板 (dual boards, skiing). Riding into Love might’ve been a more fitting title, but I digress.
Where the drama falls short is in its portrayal of snowboarding’s essence. It offers a mainstream, sanitized version that feels disconnected from the sport’s rebellious roots. Snowboarding emerged from counter-culture, a space for outcasts carving their own path. Every rider, no matter how successful, shares this spirit. But in Ski into Love, the characters feel too clean-cut, too polished. Shan Chong’s personal style, for example, is far removed from how freestyle snowboarders actually dress. Sure, designer clothing at his wealth level makes sense, but not in the way it’s presented here. Snowboarders have a distinct style - baggy hip-hop-inspired outfits, a chill, laid-back demeanor. The characters here feel stiff, missing that effortless cool.
Technical and Cultural Inaccuracies
A major oversight is how the series lumps all snowboarding disciplines together. Shan Chong, a Big Air/Slopestyle specialist, is challenged to a slalom race by his teammate Dai Duo. There is little to no crossover between alpine racing and freestyle; they require vastly different skills and equipment. No elite freestyle snowboarder would suddenly be competent on a racing board. It makes as much sense as a figure skater excelling at speed skating.
Another glaring issue is the depiction of the snowboarding community. This sport thrives on camaraderie - it was built by outcasts creating their own space. Even in professional competition, snowboarders form one of the most close-knit communities in all of sports. Yet by episode 5, factions have formed, going against the sport’s very ethos. While rivalries exist, true snowboarders know the real enemy is always the skiers. (Kidding - kind of.)
China’s snow sports scene is rapidly developing, but its cultural etiquette hasn’t fully caught up with global standards. If this drama wanted to be idealistic, it could have done better research into this aspect.
Duelling it out over a game of In Your Face but with completely made up rules was disappointing. The actual rules are: rock-paper-scissors for first caller. First caller calls a trick for the opponent. If opponent lands, they move on, if they fall, loser gets sprayed in the face. Calling the tricks for the opponent would have been a great opportunity to help casual viewers understand what’s happening, which they missed the mark on.
Shan Chong’s friend Beici insists that you can’t let fate decide in competitive sports. While Beici isn’t wrong, Shan Chong’s agreement to his statement feels out of place. Snowboarding has never been about pure competition - it’s about fun. But as commercialization grows, this ethos is being overshadowed. More athletes now prioritize rigorous training over joy. If the series valued snowboarding’s integrity, it should have acknowledged that while progression matters, fun and camaraderie matter more.
Although the series captures the amateur snowboarders quite accurately, elite athletes are depicted more like athletes of other sports. It’s disconcerting to see traditional, sterile bootcamp-style training gyms that strip away the essence of snowboarding. China has Woodward facilities designed for action sports, yet they’re absent from the drama. Instead of advocating for snowboarding, the series uses it as a plot device.
But one of the best parts? The absolute chaos of the national team. As they should be. These are the elite, yet they all act like overgrown kids - just like real-life snowboarders. Their coach, at least, gives sound advice: Shan Chong shouldn’t expect to return to form immediately. His frustration watching younger riders outperform him is understandable. The new generation has better facilities, training, and role models. The older generation had to figure things out through trial and error; the younger ones have the blueprint handed to them.
The drama focuses heavily on Big Air but omits Slopestyle, even though Olympic-level athletes compete in both. Worse, it downplays the technical difficulty of tricks. When Dai Duo lands a backside 1440 triple cork, his teammates claim no one else on the national team can do it. This is absurd - Su Yiming, China’s big air gold medalist pulled off a 1980 in 2022 at the age of just 17. A full 3 years before the events of this series. Every year, the bar gets raised higher, and since events took place during the 2025-2026 season, every olympic calibre athlete should be able to pull off at least 1800s. At the 2022 Olympics, seven riders landed it cleanly in the finals. At the 2025 X Games, 2160s and 2340s have started to make an appearance.
Characters
Wei Zhi is endearing but utterly hopeless at snowboarding. Even under professional guidance, she makes no progress. She gets flustered when Shan Chong teaches others, yet she has no resilience for a sport that demands patience and suffering. Her best friend Nanfeng was right - paying for lessons just to spend time with him isn't the solution to staying in this relationship long-term.
Shan Chong retired after his sister Shan Shan’s skiing accident resulted in a bilateral transtibial amputation. Coupled with his own near-death experience, he couldn’t justify putting his family through more distress. His actions were noble - saving up to fit his sister with prosthetic legs - but the drama falters in depicting her recovery. This part of the story feels rushed - it acutely oversimplifies the complexities of fitting for prosthetics - no casting, no check socket, no rehab... just straight up delivered to their door, ready to put on and get up and walk. But the prostheses themselves are real. Great CGI on Shan Shan too. They missed a big chance to potentially have her aim for the paralympics as well, I thought the story was developing in that direction when she remarked she was on the national junior team during the arcade scene, and later joining the group on their next adventure.
Wei Zhi’s parents’ judgmental attitude toward Shan Chong stems from class prejudice. They see snowboarding as
不务正业 (not a serious profession), even though he’s a nationally recognized athlete. The irony? He’s more responsible for Wei Zhi than they’ll ever be. Rich people sure have the audacity to look down on those more accomplished than them. If anything, they don’t deserve him. For this reason, it felt like forgiveness felt deeply unsatisfying.
Thematic Direction
Episode 8 captures the contrast between snowboarding’s free-spirited nature and the rigidity of high society. At first, I thought the drama was about breaking free - Wei Zhi from her conservative upbringing, Shan Chong from his guilt. This would have been perfect, given how snowboarding is all about freedom - the feeling of flying as you catch air. But in the end, the theme turned out to be about reconciliation. Reconciliation with family, with the past. A solid theme, but a missed opportunity to showcase snowboarding’s true philosophy.
Final Thoughts
Despite its flaws, Ski into Love grew on me. It may not fully understand snowboarding, but it tries. It’s a surface-level depiction of the sport, but for mainstream audiences, it’s a start. And for someone like me, starved for action sports representation, I’ll take what I can get.
My approach to this drama was twofold: to assess it both as a story and from a technical and cultural perspective, offering insight into the culture and history of the sport. Initially, I came in with a lot of skepticism, worried about its authenticity. However, as the series progressed, I found myself praying it wouldn’t completely fuck up its depiction of snowboarding. Whether it succeeded or not, I’m still on the fence. While I didn’t learn anything new - and I have plenty of factual errors to nitpick - I had fun identifying the snowboard models, shooting locations, and analyzing tricks.
The Spirit of Snowboarding
Snowboarding, like its action sports counterparts, is more than just a sport; it’s a way of life. It’s a culture deeply rooted in music, fashion, and community - a group bonded by their passion for riding. Fun comes first; talent is secondary. The irony of this drama is that the entire plot feels like it was written by Wei Zhi herself - someone with little understanding of snowboarding but trying her best.
I can overlook the title mistranslation ("Ski into Love", even though the show is about snowboarding). The issue of calling them “ski slopes” and “ski resorts” when snowboarders share the terrain hasn’t been resolved in real life either. In Chinese, both skiing and snowboarding fall under 滑雪 (huáxuě), with the only differentiator being 单板 (single board, snowboarding) and 双板 (dual boards, skiing). Riding into Love might’ve been a more fitting title, but I digress.
Where the drama falls short is in its portrayal of snowboarding’s essence. It offers a mainstream, sanitized version that feels disconnected from the sport’s rebellious roots. Snowboarding emerged from counter-culture, a space for outcasts carving their own path. Every rider, no matter how successful, shares this spirit. But in Ski into Love, the characters feel too clean-cut, too polished. Shan Chong’s personal style, for example, is far removed from how freestyle snowboarders actually dress. Sure, designer clothing at his wealth level makes sense, but not in the way it’s presented here. Snowboarders have a distinct style - baggy hip-hop-inspired outfits, a chill, laid-back demeanor. The characters here feel stiff, missing that effortless cool.
Technical and Cultural Inaccuracies
A major oversight is how the series lumps all snowboarding disciplines together. Shan Chong, a Big Air/Slopestyle specialist, is challenged to a slalom race by his teammate Dai Duo. There is little to no crossover between alpine racing and freestyle; they require vastly different skills and equipment. No elite freestyle snowboarder would suddenly be competent on a racing board. It makes as much sense as a figure skater excelling at speed skating.
Another glaring issue is the depiction of the snowboarding community. This sport thrives on camaraderie - it was built by outcasts creating their own space. Even in professional competition, snowboarders form one of the most close-knit communities in all of sports. Yet by episode 5, factions have formed, going against the sport’s very ethos. While rivalries exist, true snowboarders know the real enemy is always the skiers. (Kidding - kind of.)
China’s snow sports scene is rapidly developing, but its cultural etiquette hasn’t fully caught up with global standards. If this drama wanted to be idealistic, it could have done better research into this aspect.
Duelling it out over a game of In Your Face but with completely made up rules was disappointing. The actual rules are: rock-paper-scissors for first caller. First caller calls a trick for the opponent. If opponent lands, they move on, if they fall, loser gets sprayed in the face. Calling the tricks for the opponent would have been a great opportunity to help casual viewers understand what’s happening, which they missed the mark on.
Shan Chong’s friend Beici insists that you can’t let fate decide in competitive sports. While Beici isn’t wrong, Shan Chong’s agreement to his statement feels out of place. Snowboarding has never been about pure competition - it’s about fun. But as commercialization grows, this ethos is being overshadowed. More athletes now prioritize rigorous training over joy. If the series valued snowboarding’s integrity, it should have acknowledged that while progression matters, fun and camaraderie matter more.
Although the series captures the amateur snowboarders quite accurately, elite athletes are depicted more like athletes of other sports. It’s disconcerting to see traditional, sterile bootcamp-style training gyms that strip away the essence of snowboarding. China has Woodward facilities designed for action sports, yet they’re absent from the drama. Instead of advocating for snowboarding, the series uses it as a plot device.
But one of the best parts? The absolute chaos of the national team. As they should be. These are the elite, yet they all act like overgrown kids - just like real-life snowboarders. Their coach, at least, gives sound advice: Shan Chong shouldn’t expect to return to form immediately. His frustration watching younger riders outperform him is understandable. The new generation has better facilities, training, and role models. The older generation had to figure things out through trial and error; the younger ones have the blueprint handed to them.
The drama focuses heavily on Big Air but omits Slopestyle, even though Olympic-level athletes compete in both. Worse, it downplays the technical difficulty of tricks. When Dai Duo lands a backside 1440 triple cork, his teammates claim no one else on the national team can do it. This is absurd - Su Yiming, China’s big air gold medalist pulled off a 1980 in 2022 at the age of just 17. A full 3 years before the events of this series. Every year, the bar gets raised higher, and since events took place during the 2025-2026 season, every olympic calibre athlete should be able to pull off at least 1800s. At the 2022 Olympics, seven riders landed it cleanly in the finals. At the 2025 X Games, 2160s and 2340s have started to make an appearance.
Characters
Wei Zhi is endearing but utterly hopeless at snowboarding. Even under professional guidance, she makes no progress. She gets flustered when Shan Chong teaches others, yet she has no resilience for a sport that demands patience and suffering. Her best friend Nanfeng was right - paying for lessons just to spend time with him isn't the solution to staying in this relationship long-term.
Shan Chong retired after his sister Shan Shan’s skiing accident resulted in a bilateral transtibial amputation. Coupled with his own near-death experience, he couldn’t justify putting his family through more distress. His actions were noble - saving up to fit his sister with prosthetic legs - but the drama falters in depicting her recovery. This part of the story feels rushed - it acutely oversimplifies the complexities of fitting for prosthetics - no casting, no check socket, no rehab... just straight up delivered to their door, ready to put on and get up and walk. But the prostheses themselves are real. Great CGI on Shan Shan too. They missed a big chance to potentially have her aim for the paralympics as well, I thought the story was developing in that direction when she remarked she was on the national junior team during the arcade scene, and later joining the group on their next adventure.
Wei Zhi’s parents’ judgmental attitude toward Shan Chong stems from class prejudice. They see snowboarding as
不务正业 (not a serious profession), even though he’s a nationally recognized athlete. The irony? He’s more responsible for Wei Zhi than they’ll ever be. Rich people sure have the audacity to look down on those more accomplished than them. If anything, they don’t deserve him. For this reason, it felt like forgiveness felt deeply unsatisfying.
Thematic Direction
Episode 8 captures the contrast between snowboarding’s free-spirited nature and the rigidity of high society. At first, I thought the drama was about breaking free - Wei Zhi from her conservative upbringing, Shan Chong from his guilt. This would have been perfect, given how snowboarding is all about freedom - the feeling of flying as you catch air. But in the end, the theme turned out to be about reconciliation. Reconciliation with family, with the past. A solid theme, but a missed opportunity to showcase snowboarding’s true philosophy.
Final Thoughts
Despite its flaws, Ski into Love grew on me. It may not fully understand snowboarding, but it tries. It’s a surface-level depiction of the sport, but for mainstream audiences, it’s a start. And for someone like me, starved for action sports representation, I’ll take what I can get.
Was this review helpful to you?
