Chapter 122: Return to Weibo

The summer after the 2022 Winter Olympics, the International Skating Union (ISU) released new rules for the upcoming season. All previous results were archived, becoming history, as were the world records. Consequently, the best scores achieved this season under the new regulations would establish new world records.

Under these new rules, the world record for the women’s short program was 81.78 points, set by Soskova a year prior. Shu Ran’s own previous world record for the short program had been 82.91 points. With the new rules only in their third year of implementation, many skaters were still in a phase of exploration, and achieving the scores seen in the era of the old rules was incredibly difficult.

While programs with high-difficulty technical elements offered the best chance at high scores, Shu Ran’s performance that day did not rely on an overwhelming technical layout compared to the top skaters. Yet, she still broke Soskova’s world record, finishing with a short program score of 82.86.

Beyond shattering Soskova’s record, she had also surpassed her own historical world record—a fact everyone acknowledged, even if unspoken. This was enough to send a tremor through the figure skating world. Shu Ran was, in every sense, constantly transcending herself.

Meanwhile, news of Shu Ran breaking the world record for the second time reached home, quickly climbing the trending charts. Netizens engaged in heated discussions under sports news posts on Weibo.

"Shu Ran has finally come out the other side of her hardships. All those haters who claimed she withdrew previously because she wasn't good enough should take a look—don't mistake a tiger for a sick cat just because it hasn't bared its claws!"

"I watched the live stream. It’s rare to see Shu Ran perform in this style. I hope she does more fast-paced programs like this in the future. While her slow-paced performances are moving, it’s clear she scores higher with upbeat rhythms!"

"Oh my god! So proud of our girl! I suddenly want to cry. The journey she’s been on hasn't been easy at all. Please take care of yourself, girl."

"Winning is winning, and finishing is finishing. She must have had her reasons for withdrawing mid-competition. Do you all really understand her situation better than she did at the time? Keyboard warriors standing on a moral high ground to criticize an athlete—little do you know, she was fighting for the country’s glory. And what about you? Are you here to extinguish the light of figure skating?"

This sparked another round of online debate regarding Shu Ran's choice to withdraw from the previous Winter Olympics.

Far away in Finland, Shu Ran and her team remained unaware of the commotion. The competition was not yet over. The top four for the short program had been decided: Shu Ran, Kristina, Soskova, and Evelyn. Observers remarked that witnessing pure talent pitted against the explosive power of younger skaters was the definition of a "killing field."

The next day, the free skate began again with the men’s singles. Zhu Hongzhe, skating to the music of *The Godfather*, landed his opening 4T cleanly. His subsequent combination jump received an execution score of 1.45, and his step sequence was leveled at three. However, he landed on his free foot on the first jump of his later combination, and fell on the follow-up 3A, ultimately losing to the American skater Wells by ten points, and trailing Yuan Cangyu by a full twenty points. Zhu Hongzhe took home the bronze medal once again, while Chen Lecheng made errors and dropped to tenth place.

In the following pairs free skate, Wu Xincheng and Shen Yu leveraged their absolute strength to maintain their first-place position from the short program. With a flawless performance, they secured another World Championship gold medal. Their junior training partners, competing in their first World Championships, also performed exceptionally well, showing promise as successors and finishing in ninth place.

By contrast, the national team’s women’s singles were left with only Shu Ran as their sole representative by the time the free skate arrived. Even so, she carried the hopes of many. The skating association officials could finally breathe a sigh of relief; by reaching the free skate, regardless of her final placement, the Chinese team was guaranteed at least one spot in the Winter Olympics. Whether they would secure one or two spots depended on Shu Ran’s final performance.

All the skaters flagged by Qin Liubei as ones to watch had successfully advanced to the free skate. Based on the short program rankings, Shu Ran was in the final group. During the draw for the skating order the following morning, she drew number 19, placing her first in the fourth group.

Upon hearing the order, Fu Yiqing nodded, saying, "Not bad. Going first means there won't be too much pressure."

Because the final group was highly competitive, those skating later often had to wait anxiously, and if their rivals performed exceptionally well, it could create significant psychological pressure. In past competitions, it had often happened that skaters were so overwhelmed by the stellar performances of those before them that they made major errors.

Fortunately, Shu Ran’s greatest strength now was her mindset, so she wasn't particularly concerned about the skating order. "If it's not last, it's first. Unbelievable," she couldn't help but remark. Fu Yiqing smiled thinly.

The women’s free skate was fiercely competitive. Shu Ran missed one jump in the middle but added a replacement jump afterward. She finished with a score of 156.23, which, combined with her 82.86 from the short program, gave her a total of 239.09, placing her in first for the moment.

This was an excellent result and a personal best for Shu Ran. Although it was 1.32 points shy of Soskova’s world record total of 240.41, it was the best score of the 2024-2025 season. Shu Ran’s superb performance put immense pressure on the skaters who followed. Aifitinia made small mistakes, Kristina fell on her second jump, and even the world record holder, Soskova, struggled with errors. Surprisingly, it was the Japanese skater Sayaka, who had just moved up to the senior level this season, who provided the only "clean" skate in the group, though her free skate score still did not surpass Shu Ran’s.

As Sayaka finished, the entire audience rose to their feet in cheers. Fu Yiqing gripped Shu Ran’s shoulder firmly; his smile was subtle, but Shu Ran could see his excitement. She heard a few people in the stands behind her calling her name. She froze for a few seconds, her eyes reddened, and she offered a faint smile. "I did it."

Fu Yiqing looked at her, his expression a mix of heartache and gratification. Shu Ran turned, looked up, waved at the audience, and walked toward the backstage area with Fu Yiqing. She was small in stature, yet her posture was perfectly straight.

This examination paper, which she had been writing for sixteen years, finally had a result worth speaking of. In a season without Winter Olympics, a World Championship title meant being a world champion. In a sense, Shu Ran could now call herself a world champion.

The champion and runner-up of the World Championships in the season preceding the Winter Olympics could earn three entry spots for their respective countries. However, because Shu Ran’s points, combined with Chen Jiahe’s, had exceeded the 13-point threshold and dropped into the second tier, the Chinese women’s singles team only secured two tickets to the Winter Olympics, despite Shu Ran’s brilliant performance. Huo Guang deeply regretted letting Chen Jiahe compete; had only Shu Ran participated, her championship win would have secured three "tickets" for the Chinese team.

But there is no medicine for regret in this world, and besides, this was the best performance the women’s singles had ever achieved.

After the World Championships, Shu Ran’s name remained on the trending list, her popularity high, with no signs of the online discussions waning. Many even went to Shu Ran’s Weibo to apologize for having jumped on the bandwagon to hate her. Since Shu Ran did not post on Weibo, netizens assumed she was still wary of her past experiences with cyberbullying and bombarded her with private messages. When she didn't reply, they messaged her friends, asking them to tell Shu Ran that "she doesn't need to worry about the haters anymore; if anything similar happens, they will definitely believe her and stand together against the enemies."

Although April was the off-season, 2025-2026 was an Olympic season. Shu Ran returned to school for only a month before heading back to the team for training. In her spare time, she opened her social media feed and saw several posts lined up in a row.

Wu Xincheng: "Please, someone get Shu Ran to return to Weibo!"
Zhu Hongzhe: "Same here @Shu Ran."
Chen Lecheng: "If you don't return soon, I'm hacking your account."

Other teammates had posted similar messages, leaving Shu Ran bewildered. Just then, she saw Fu Yiqing post: "I think it’s about time, too."

Shu Ran commented on his post: "Did the netizens find you, too?"
Fu Yiqing replied: "Yes. During the off-season, I allow you to browse Weibo."
Qin Liubei replied to Shu Ran: "What’s that supposed to mean? So many people posted, and you only replied to your coach? Are the words you speak in person not enough? Why the favoritism in your comments?"
Shu Ran replied to Qin Liubei: "@Xu Jingyu."

Ten minutes later, after editing and deleting repeatedly, Shu Ran finally posted on Weibo after an absence of over three years.

@ShuRanice: "A bit confused [Screenshot of social media feed]"

This post, consisting of three words and a screenshot, sent Shu Ran to the top of the trending list again. But the focus of the netizens was clearly different from hers.

"Qin Liubei has a point. So, could Shu Ran and her coach really be...?"
"Her coach looks much older than her, and he is genuinely handsome. But the 'young girl and older man' trope applied to a coach and student... I don't think I can face my driving instructor this summer."

Fortunately, Shu Ran noticed in time and immediately swapped out the screenshot that included Qin Liubei’s reply, which prevented the topic from spiraling into a new wave of frenzy.

The Olympic season schedule was packed. Without taking many days off, Shu Ran and Fu Yiqing traveled to Canada to choreograph the new season’s programs. Shu Ran had performed well in *Libertango*, so the free skate program remained unchanged, while the exhibition program was set to the music from the film *La La Land*.

"As for the short program..." Berus began.
"Actually," Shu Ran couldn't help but interrupt. As everyone turned their attention to her, she continued, "I have an idea for the short program."
Berus raised his eyebrows in surprise, a hint of delight in his expression. "Let's hear it."
She spoke slowly, sounding them out. "How about Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major?"

Berus turned to look at Fu Yiqing, who simply shrugged. "I have no objections."
Berus rubbed his chin, looked up, and laughed aloud. "I have no objections either."
"I want to use Yo-Yo Ma’s version," Shu Ran emphasized.
Fu Yiqing and Berus exchanged a glance and nodded with a smile.
Berus remarked, "It seems if I had disagreed just now, you would have been very disappointed?"
Shu Ran gave a shy smile, rubbed the back of her head, and nodded. "Probably."

This would likely be her final Winter Olympics, so being able to perform a piece she loved was naturally better.

On the way back, Fu Yiqing asked, "Why did you choose Yo-Yo Ma’s version?"
Shu Ran looked down at the road. "I once saw an interview with him. He said something, and I think I remember it like this..."
Fu Yiqing gave a soft sound of acknowledgment.
"He said: 'Everything in the world is in constant change, and music is the same. It sounds like the same piece of music, but it’s actually not. When your state of mind changes, the music changes with it.'" Shu Ran’s smile held a touch of satisfaction and transcendence. She glanced at him and continued, "I think figure skating is the same."

To hide one’s own story within the music, to give the music a unique soul, and to make it a performance that belonged solely to oneself.