Chapter 101: Advancing into Freestyle Skiing

The rest of the group alongside Shu Ran were also in the final segment of the short program, but Miyagawa Miharu, originally slated for the last group, had dropped out of the top six and was reassigned to the third group.

The fourth group for the free skate was arranged as follows: Kristina, Samantha, Chen Yuqi, Shu Ran, Chihara Yuka, and Nadirova.

According to past patterns, the women’s singles champion at this Winter Olympics would likely be decided among these six skaters unless an unexpected event occurred—such as the entire last group faltering—giving the third group a chance. Of course, this was not an absolute rule, but the odds favored the skaters in the final group to take the title.

Shu Ran, as usual, paced back and forth wearing her headphones. Since the anesthetic injection hadn’t yet taken full effect, she swallowed a painkiller and used a resistance band to stretch, working on arm strength and the sensation of rotation.

Judging by the time, the first group had likely finished skating, and gradually, Shu Ran began to feel the anesthetic’s relief, allowing the lingering anxiety in her heart to slowly dissipate.

As the six-minute warm-up for the third group began, the fourth group emerged from backstage to wait.

The atmosphere in the arena was quite lively. Aifitinia of the third group drew number 13, so she warmed up and took the ice first. She wore a striking red costume by Kostin, notable for revealing a large expanse of snow-white skin on her back. Naturally pale and sweetly charming, her serious expression created an intriguing contrast that endeared her to fans. Despite her lackluster results since moving to the senior level, her performances were consistently solid, and her likable appearance won her many supporters. As she stepped onto the ice, many fans cheered her name.

Next onto the ice was Jennifer, who had made a few small mistakes in the short program two days prior but had executed her jumps well.

Third was Maggie, a former European champion, who had struggled with injuries over recent seasons and delivered average performances. Rumors had circulated before the Games that she might retire afterward, though no confirmation emerged.

As Miyagawa Miharu stepped onto the ice, a roar of applause erupted from the stands. There had been speculation that she might be the sole domestic successor to Chihara Yuka, whose brilliance was unmatched. Yet, Miyagawa’s consistent results, though steady, hinted she might have reached her peak. Still, her elegant appearance and graceful dancing style earned her the support of many fans.

Following her were veteran Chelsea and newcomer Zhang Ziqing.

Since her injury and advancing age, Chelsea’s results had plateaued, and with rising newcomers, maintaining her current position was no small feat.

Zhang Ziqing was Chelsea’s teammate, both hailing from Canada. Just as many thought Chelsea’s time had passed, Zhang emerged as a fresh face. Having just entered the senior ranks last year, Zhang was still in the adaptation phase typical for young women’s singles skaters transitioning to seniors, as physiological development often demands a period of adjustment. Few had managed to maintain their junior-level form immediately upon entering the senior ranks.

After a year of adaptation, Zhang’s performance had matured noticeably.

The six-minute warm-up concluded, and the third group instantly shifted into competition mode.

“From Belgium, Aifitinia, 18 years old…”

Listening to the announcer’s voice, Shu Ran couldn’t help but reflect. When she first encountered Aifitinia, the latter had just moved up to the senior level—two years had flown by in a blink.

Shu Ran also felt a twinge of envy.

Aifitinia was 18 this year and eligible for the Olympics; four years from now, at 22, she would still have a chance to compete again.

But Shu Ran no longer had that opportunity. At 17, four years ago, she lacked the strength to qualify for the Olympics during her prime. Now that she finally had the ability, injury had struck—truly a cruel twist of fate.

Shu Ran’s gaze settled on Aifitinia on the ice.

Aifitinia’s free skate music was from “La La Land,” light and lively yet tinged with a subtle melancholy. Her steps tapped lightly, her movements graceful.

She launched into her program with a clean triple Axel.

The connecting steps that followed should have been rated level three, but she made several jump errors afterward—twice falling and underrotating in her combination jumps.

These mistakes shook Aifitinia’s mindset, and her performance noticeably weakened in the latter half.

Her combined short and free skate total was 188.35.

In contrast, Jennifer, who usually scored lower than Aifitinia, performed well with only minor mistakes, earning a final score of 201.26.

Before Miyagawa Miharu’s turn, Jennifer’s 201.26 remained the highest on the scoreboard.

Yet Miyagawa seemed determined to break free from Chihara Yuka’s shadow. With a program set to “The Maiden’s Prayer,” she delivered the cleanest skate in the group, scoring 220.56 points—a result nobody had anticipated.

Had this been the previous Winter Olympics, that score would have clinched the gold, as Samantha’s top score then was only 220.31.

But times had changed; scores in competitive figure skating shifted rapidly, rarely remaining static for more than three years.

Miyagawa’s exceptional performance pressured the fourth group’s skaters as they prepared to compete.

Shu Ran lined up at the entrance to the ice for her warm-up. Fu Yiqing glanced her way, and she offered him a reassuring smile.

Others might not have understood its meaning, but Fu Yiqing did—it said the anesthetic was working and there was no need to worry.

Indeed, the effect had begun during the third group’s performances. Nearly fifty minutes had passed since their competition, and the fourth group’s event would last no more than an hour.

This meant Shu Ran’s injury would not interfere with her performance.

Her confidence surged.

Standing on the ice, she waved gracefully to the crowd.

The six-minute warm-up ended, and Kristina was the first to take the ice.

She wore an ice-blue costume by Kostin, her hair styled in a French twist. With her slender figure, she looked every bit a noble princess from the Middle Ages.

The announcer spoke: “From France, Kristina, 20 years old. Her program is set to Tchaikovsky’s ‘The Nutcracker.’”

The music was playful, with an undercurrent of eerie mystery and intrigue.

Kristina moved like a marionette inside a music box, dancing delicately to the melody.

True to form, she opened with a triple Lutz, hooking her hand elegantly to conquer the audience.

Outside the rink, Shu Ran’s heart clenched tightly.

Among the skaters, aside from a few newcomers she was unfamiliar with, Kristina’s technical skills ranked among the very best in the competition. The only other skater matching her technical prowess was Samantha.

Due to the Olympics, all skaters prioritized training over international competitions this season, though they still participated in events.

After Shu Ran persuaded Kristina to return home, she immediately competed in the Challenger Series. Kristina’s program component scores (PCS) had improved considerably this season. While not on par with high-PCS skaters like Shu Ran, at least Kristina’s PCS no longer dragged her down.

In contrast, Shu Ran, hampered by injury, could not attempt difficult jumps or footwork sequences and had to rely on her PCS to boost her score.

Yet the PCS had an upper limit and would never exceed 80 points.

The technical element score (TES) was different—there was no ceiling. With well-constructed, high-difficulty programs executed cleanly, scores could soar. This was why, in recent years, figure skaters had increasingly focused on technical training, sometimes at the expense of artistic expression.

“Don’t be nervous.”

Suddenly, a voice interrupted Shu Ran’s wandering thoughts.

She turned her head, searching for the source. The voice fell silent, but before she could withdraw her gaze—

She saw Samantha.

Surprised at first, she quickly understood. This was Samantha—real, genuine. She didn’t see Shu Ran as a rival but rather as a fellow traveler chasing the same dream.

Just those three words calmed Shu Ran’s heart.

She smiled back at Samantha and refocused, performing small warm-up movements nearby.

Indeed, the competition had not yet begun; there was no need to lose her composure.

Kristina’s free skate score was announced.

147.43 points.

Combined with her short program, her total was 221.01 points.

A remarkably high score, temporarily placing her first.

After the brief interruption, Shu Ran calmly withdrew her gaze from the scoreboard.

Then suddenly, her pupils constricted sharply, her heart jolting.

Instinctively, she glanced down at her right foot, but it was encased in an ice skate, hiding any visible sign of discomfort.

Her newly settled calm rippled with unease.

Just then, Fu Yiqing’s familiar voice whispered in her ear, “What’s wrong?”

His tone was soft and expression composed. Since Samantha, the reigning Olympic champion, was now performing, the crowd’s focus—and the media’s—was entirely on her, so no one noticed their exchange.

Shu Ran replied quietly, “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm.”

Recalling Shu Ran’s resolute words before leaving the car, Fu Yiqing found it hard to believe her assurances now.

She might lie, but her expression and demeanor could not.

As Samantha unleashed her full power on the ice, each musical beat seemed to strike Shu Ran directly, tightening her brow and causing a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead—barely noticeable to others.

Fu Yiqing seized the moment amid the crowd’s enthusiastic response to speak sharply, “Shu Ran, I’m your coach. If there’s anything wrong, you must tell me!”

Shu Ran kept her head lowered, silent.

This time, Fu Yiqing did not relent, and the two remained locked in this standoff.

Finally, Shu Ran’s worsening pain broke her resolve. She clenched her teeth and said, “Coach, could you get me a painkiller? I don’t know if I can hold on.” Her forehead glistened with cold sweat, and her voice was laced with desperate yearning.