Chapter Twenty-Four Three Hours

Because Shu Ran performed well in yesterday's free skate, she was radiant with smiles, and quite a few competitors mustered the courage to approach her and express their admiration for her program.

Jennifer, the American skater, was among them. Due to health issues, she hadn’t performed to her usual standard; although she placed third here in France, her overall score was nearly twenty points behind Shu Ran’s second place.

Shu Ran’s English was never particularly strong, so their entire conversation relied on gestures and mutual understanding.

Jennifer said, “I didn’t do well this time. What competition are you entering next?”

Her directness left Shu Ran embarrassed, but fortunately, by the time Shu Ran understood Jennifer’s question, Jennifer had already thoughtfully shifted topics.

Jennifer tugged at the edge of Shu Ran’s jacket pocket, her expression oddly shy. “Those two standing over there—are they both your coaches?”

Jennifer was referring to Fu Yiqing and Qin Liubei.

Shu Ran followed her gaze and saw Fu Yiqing’s expression had softened, the corners of his lips lifted in a smile—not exactly gentle, as if he’d just been angry and hadn’t quite managed to shake it off.

But Shu Ran didn’t dwell on Fu Yiqing’s smile. “They’re both my coaches, more or less.” Both had always accompanied her through training, so calling them her coaches wasn’t off the mark.

Jennifer nodded, “Both of them are so handsome. You’re lucky. It’s not the same for me.”

She turned dejectedly in another direction, her eyes landing on a portly middle-aged man, who, upon noticing Jennifer’s gaze, gave her a slight smile.

Jennifer had just smiled at her own coach, but the next moment she turned and made a face. “My coach is an old grouch.”

Shu Ran was amused, and at the same time, felt a pang of sympathy for Jennifer’s coach.

The following rehearsal was more play than practice, as all the athletes approached it like a game.

When rehearsal ended, everyone was cheerful, and there was even a touch of sadness at its conclusion.

Shu Ran was sweating from the fun, took a tissue from Qin Liubei to wipe her brow, and headed out for a meal, paying no attention to Fu Yiqing, who seemed to want to say something.

Qin Liubei said, “Looks like you’ve made plenty of friends.”

Shu Ran’s brows had been arched in a smile ever since she stepped onto the ice. “Yes, someone told me they were in the same group as me at last year’s Grand Prix, but since I didn’t speak, they didn’t dare to approach me.”

“That’s normal. People like to stick together, but you should be careful—some only greet you because you’re doing well. Old Fu, what do you say—”

Qin Liubei turned to see Fu Yiqing, who was following close behind, quicken his pace with a dark expression to overtake them.

Shu Ran didn’t notice.

Fu Yiqing reached the cafeteria first and had already chosen a meal for Shu Ran.

As soon as Shu Ran entered, she gave him a dazzling smile—bright and radiant—waving at him energetically, genuinely happy.

Fu Yiqing’s expression finally eased a little, watching her wave incessantly, as if she wouldn’t stop until he responded.

Despite some hesitation, Fu Yiqing slowly lifted his hand from under the table.

Shu Ran whispered something to Qin Liubei, then walked toward Fu Yiqing.

“Coach, is this for me?” she asked, looking at the extra plate in front of Fu Yiqing.

“Yes.”

“Thank you!”

“Since you performed well these past two days, I—” Fu Yiqing hadn’t finished speaking when an excited shout came from behind, “Come over here!”

He turned to see Zhu Hongzhe waving energetically in their direction, clearly calling Shu Ran over.

Fu Yiqing was about to speak, but Shu Ran picked up her tray. “Coach, I’m going over there.”

Fu Yiqing: “...”

“Coach?”

“Mm,” he replied dully.

Shu Ran’s attention was fixed elsewhere, so she didn’t notice Fu Yiqing’s unhappy expression. Having received a reply, she walked away without hesitation.

Fu Yiqing sat in silence, eating, and heard someone sit down across from him. He looked up to see Qin Liubei, the hint of joy in his eyes quickly concealed.

“Such a sour expression.” Qin Liubei smiled, casting his gaze toward Shu Ran, who was now surrounded by people. “Your little apprentice has run off with the crowd—heartbroken?”

Fu Yiqing glared at him.

Qin Liubei suddenly furrowed his brow, closing his eyes in mock agony. “According to my database, I suspect your... possessiveness has reached terrifying levels.”

“What time is it?”

“What?” Qin Liubei was stunned by Fu Yiqing’s abrupt topic shift, took a moment to catch up, checked the time. “Half past eleven.”

Fu Yiqing said, “Three more hours.”

Qin Liubei: “Why do I find your words harder and harder to understand? Can’t you get closer to your friends?”

The exhibition skate began at three in the afternoon, featuring the top four skaters in men’s singles, women’s singles, pairs, and ice dance.

Shu Ran had finished fifth at the China event, and her exhibition costume hadn’t been ready, so she’d used last season’s costume and performed last season’s program.

She was grateful to have received the costume before they left; otherwise, the exhibition program she’d trained for this season would have been wasted.

The exhibition was divided into two halves. Shu Ran was in the first half, and as she waited to go on, she grew inexplicably nervous.

A male voice sounded beside her, “Wow, are you cosplaying?”

It was Chen Lecheng from the men’s singles. After the morning rehearsal, they were no longer strangers.

Shu Ran gave him a sidelong glance; her costume and makeup today resembled those from the film “Green Snake.” Those unfamiliar with the movie only saw a traditional outfit, but those who had watched it could sense its unique charm.

Shu Ran spent a minute explaining the film to Chen Lecheng. Because her outfit was so striking, several foreign skaters who understood Chinese joined the conversation, nearly causing a pair of ice dancers to miss their performance time.

Chen Lecheng looked at Shu Ran gravely. “I finally understand why you’re always alone.”

“Why?”

He replied solemnly, “Because whenever you’re near a crowd, you become the center of attention.”

Qin Liubei, not far away, sighed, “Our Shu Ran is truly impossible to ignore. After today, I wonder how many boys will lose their hearts to her.”

Most of the venue was unlit—only a single spotlight shone on the skater performing, and Fu Yiqing’s expression was hidden in the darkness, his mood unreadable.

Exhibition skates often feature costumes or props to attract the audience’s attention, a tried and true method.

For example, Shu Ran.

As soon as she took to the ice, the audience collectively gasped.

The girl on the ice had long hair draped over her shoulders, the front swept back, with a simple butterfly ornament pinned to her chignon. Strands of hair fell around her neck, her appearance gentle and lovely, eyes so expressive they stole one’s breath. Her slender hand held a round fan.

Her costume matched the ancient style—a long robe with flowing sleeves, in shades of blue, white, and black, reminiscent of an ink painting.

The audience hadn’t yet recovered from the sensation of time travel when the lively, slightly seductive music transported them to the water towns of Jiangnan.

She hid her face behind the fan, and with a lift of her eyes, her smiling gaze seemed to speak of coyness and allure.

In the middle, the rhythm paused—the fairy on the ice suddenly transformed, tossing aside the fan, shedding her outer robe to reveal a thin blouse, short skirt, and flowing sleeves. The tempo shifted, footwork quickened, and she launched into a grand back jump, landing a flawless triple flip.

This dynamic change swept the audience’s emotions along; everyone watched unblinking, afraid to miss a single move.

Shu Ran’s emotional transitions perfectly reflected the story, prompting Qin Liubei to join the audience in applause. “Shu Ran always performs best when she’s relaxed, don’t you think?”

He received no answer for a while, so Qin Liubei looked toward Fu Yiqing and discovered he wasn’t absent-minded, but was gazing intently, his dark eyes touched by the spotlight’s holy white, in the darkness like a yearning from the abyss.

Qin Liubei was startled by his own speculation.

Shu Ran’s costume and the distinctive Jiangnan melody made the exhibition skate a resounding success; even after it ended, some called out her name, though their pronunciation was unclear.

All the skaters’ exhibition skates finally concluded.

This marked the official end of the French leg of the Grand Prix—the last of six events. Although Shu Ran took second in France, her fifth-place finish in China dragged her down, so among the seventy-two skaters, she ranked fourteenth, missing the Grand Prix Final.

Yet this exhibition made Shu Ran the center of attention once more as soon as she stepped off the ice.

She’d barely reached backstage when several young ice volunteers approached for photos, and other skaters quickly joined in.

“Take one for me, too!”

The voice was oddly familiar. Shu Ran turned and saw it was Zhu Hongzhe. “What are you doing? The world champion wants a photo with me?”

“What, world champions can’t take pictures with people they like?”

He accepted the title of “world champion” so readily?

Wait, what did he say?

People they like?

Shu Ran blushed belatedly, lowering her head. Zhu Hongzhe realized he’d spoken too quickly and was about to say something, when the hand resting on Shu Ran’s shoulder was abruptly brushed away. He looked up, startled by the low pressure emanating from the newcomer.

“Sorry, she has something to do. We’ll be going now.”

Fu Yiqing gave Zhu Hongzhe no chance to speak, hooking Shu Ran by the shoulder and whisking her away.

Zhu Hongzhe: “?” The exhibition skate was over—what could possibly be left to do?

Shu Ran was curious too. Fu Yiqing’s strides were so swift she could barely keep up, so she asked outright, “What else do I have to do?”

“Had fun, did you?”

Fu Yiqing’s expression was inscrutable, and Shu Ran genuinely didn’t know whether to answer truthfully or not. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

That clearly meant she’d had fun.

They arrived at the entrance just then, where Qin Liubei waited by the roadside. The biting wind carried Shu Ran’s question to his ears, and he laughed, “I’d advise you to lie—your Coach Fu isn’t in a good mood today.”

Shu Ran glanced at Fu Yiqing in surprise. “Why is he in a bad mood?”

Qin Liubei suddenly flashed a sly smile. “Because...”

Shu Ran waited for the answer, her face full of confusion.

Qin Liubei’s gaze made Fu Yiqing uncomfortable, and he abruptly interrupted, “Kristina made it in.”