Chapter 106: A New Training Regimen

The journey to the airport passed in silence.

At last, Shu Ran couldn’t hold back and spoke, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

Fu Yiqing’s expression was calm. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

Shu Ran’s lips parted in surprise, though it was more because she hadn’t quite understood what he meant.

He slowly met her gaze. “Because I know the Shu Ran I know would never be defeated by hardships so easily.”

“But... if you want to start over, you have to be fully prepared to face even greater challenges,” Fu Yiqing said seriously.

Shu Ran understood perfectly.

Starting again would require even greater courage.

Not just the courage to face the past, but the courage to confront an uncertain future.

Giving up was easy. A wasted year would only make the road ahead harder.

But once she firmly held onto her belief, Shu Ran would never again utter the word “give up.”

She lifted her head. “I understand.” There was no hint of hesitation or fear in her eyes.

“No matter what happens, I’ll be here,” Fu Yiqing’s voice was warm.

Her hand was enveloped in a comforting warmth. She looked down at that long, slender hand—not with any romantic thought, but with a steady stream of warmth reassuring her.

She was not fighting alone.

The first step of her comeback: training.

A whole year without training was unthinkable for an active athlete.

In that year, Shu Ran lost more than just her familiarity with the ice and her routines; she lost stamina and the solid strength in her arms and legs.

Stamina was crucial to completing an entire performance, especially as the difficulty increased, requiring greater endurance. Muscle strength helped resist the impact of landings and protect ankles and knees.

Now, Shu Ran had to start all over again.

They had told no one except the four of them—Fu Yiqing, Qin Liubei, Xu Jingyu, and herself—about her return to training.

On the first day back, Qin Liubei and Xu Jingyu arrived promptly.

The swelling on her right ankle had subsided, leaving a small lump. Her old skates were unusable; the new pair she had bought a year ago was slightly too big. Custom-made skates would take over a month, so for now, she had to wear the slightly larger ones from last year.

To ease the looseness, she stuffed a short sock into her ankle.

The moment she stepped onto the ice, the familiar scent of the rink enveloped Shu Ran.

Suddenly, a special excitement surged through her—a strong impulse to start performing immediately.

Fu Yiqing’s voice broke the silence. “Shu Ran, do you remember the program ‘Secret That Cannot Be Told’ from five years ago?”

Shu Ran asked, “You want me to skate that?”

He nodded.

She didn’t fully understand, but after everything they’d been through, she trusted Fu Yiqing unconditionally. “I remember.”

Fu Yiqing said, “Then skate it. I’ll have Liubei record your current data.”

She nodded, pushed off the ice, and swiftly moved to the center of the rink.

Every skater never forgets their past routines; they’ve practiced them thousands of times. Even if they can’t recall immediately, hearing the music triggers their bodies to move instinctively.

Shu Ran gave her all, though some of her footwork was slightly rusty. She improvised to connect steps, and while the movements weren’t very smooth, the biggest problem was with the jumps. Except for a nearly failed triple toe loop, all other jumps ended in failure.

The harshness of her falls was clear from the pained expression on Xu Jingyu’s face as she watched.

Shu Ran had expected this. She glided off the ice and asked, “How was it?”

Fu Yiqing’s face was grave. “Your artistic expression is still there, but all the problems lie in technique. Your stamina is insufficient; the jump heights in the latter half of the program are far lower than in the beginning. Your rotation count is inadequate, and when you raise your free leg during spins, it doesn’t look as effortless as before...”

Shu Ran hadn’t expected such a sharp critique. He pointed out every flaw, both known and unknown, making her feel as if the strict, iron-willed Fu Yiqing she remembered had returned.

“Alright, alright,” Qin Liubei interrupted, unable to bear it any longer. “Let me show you mine.”

The other three turned their eyes to the screen, revealing rows of data, complex formulas, and charts—very few words.

Shu Ran was certain only Qin Liubei truly understood these numbers.

Pointing at one graph, Qin Liubei explained, “First, stamina. Even if Fu and I didn’t mention it, you must have felt how exhausting it was to skate, right?”

Shu Ran nodded honestly.

Qin Liubei continued, “Second, when you land, you always fall in the direction you’re skating. You haven’t found your balance point. Previously, your balance point was at a 45-degree angle during landings—the angle between your right leg and the ice was also 45 degrees. But today, you started landing at 15 degrees in the air, and the angle after landing was only 18 degrees. This means your jump height is insufficient. Also, your rotation speed is slow.”

Fu Yiqing crossed his arms. “Insufficient jump height and slower rotation caused two of your jumps to fall short on rotation counts, leading to your repeated falls.”

Qin Liubei snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”

Shu Ran furrowed her brow.

“There’s one more thing Fu just mentioned. When you raise your free leg during the Biellmann spin, your knee bends too much. You need to train your ligaments more. This causes the rotation count issue. So, the problems all come down to stamina and leg muscle groups.”

After hearing all this, Shu Ran realized one thing: she had many problems.

She immediately regretted having taken a whole year off training, now facing the toughest challenge she had ever encountered.

“But for us, this might actually be good news,” Fu Yiqing said.

At his words, everyone looked at him. Shu Ran and Xu Jingyu were puzzled, while Qin Liubei wore a horrified expression, as if thinking, “Let’s see how you’re going to talk nonsense now.”

Fu Yiqing continued, “Because you’ve forgotten some things, it’s easier for us to correct some of your previous small errors. For example, the edge errors you used to have didn’t appear today.”

Shu Ran couldn’t help but laugh. “Coach Fu, please don’t try to comfort me.”

Qin Liubei nodded, suddenly enlightened. “He’s right. I thought he was just trying to comfort you, but you really didn’t have any edge errors today.”

It’s like learning to read. A child who doesn’t recognize many characters will mispronounce them, and that mispronunciation sticks unless consciously corrected. Skating is the same.

Most athletes start training at four or five years old, when they are naive. If coaches don’t correct their mistakes early, those errors become ingrained and very difficult to fix later. That’s why many world-class skaters repeatedly struggle with edge errors—they can’t undo long-standing training habits.

It’s like someone who grew up using chopsticks with their left hand being told to switch to the right as an adult. Even with hard training, the right hand will never feel as natural as the left.

According to Fu Yiqing, this was actually good news.

On the first day, Fu Yiqing didn’t impose a strict regimen.

In the following days, he adopted a hands-off approach, letting Shu Ran train as she wished.

Seeing her struggle alone, Qin Liubei couldn’t stand it.

He pushed open the study door and found Fu Yiqing wearing glasses, looking exhausted as he stared at his notebook, pen moving relentlessly.

Qin Liubei said, “Fu, what have you been doing these days? You’ve been waiting for Shu Ran to start training, but now that she’s committed, you don’t check on her or guide her. You even had me cover for you. I don’t get it. Are you her coach, or am I?”

Fu Yiqing looked up. “You’re also her coach, aren’t you?”

Qin Liubei was speechless. “Uh...”

Fu Yiqing looked back down at his notes.

“I want to see what you’ve been doing these days while ignoring Shu Ran.”

Qin Liubei hurried over, his eyes widening at the screen filled with lines of text interspersed with charts.

“Is this... a thesis?!”

Fu Yiqing’s brow furrowed slightly, annoyed at the interruption.

Qin Liubei finally understood. “So you’ve been letting Shu Ran train freely because you’ve been researching how to arrange her training?”

“You could say that,” Fu Yiqing replied. “So I’m not really neglecting her. Now, can I get back to my research?”

Qin Liubei paused, then gestured for him to continue, though his gaze remained fixed on the screen.

After a moment, Qin Liubei asked, “Why don’t you let me, the data analysis expert, help you? Don’t you think I’m better at this kind of work?”

Fu Yiqing said, “Shu Ran needs someone watching over her on the ice, but the work here can be done without you—only with me.”

“...” Qin Liubei licked his lips. “Could you not insult me while praising yourself?”

Shu Ran had a feeling Fu Yiqing was preparing something.

The day after Qin Liubei declared he would stand up for her, Fu Yiqing finally came downstairs.

There was a bluish stubble on his chin, and through his glasses, Shu Ran could see the redness in his eyes. Though disheveled, this was the first time she saw him wearing glasses—his scholarly look carried a unique, noble restraint.

Fu Yiqing seemed in good spirits, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve arranged a new training plan for you. Starting today, you’ll follow this new schedule.”

The rough training days had weighed heavily on Shu Ran’s mood, but Fu Yiqing’s words swept away her gloom.

If Fu Yiqing said it, there truly was nothing to worry about.

All she had to do was train in his way.

She smiled, her eyes curved in happiness. “Okay.”