Chapter Three: No Turning Back

After Shu Ran left the ice rink, she was even surrounded by bystanders who were still caught up in the excitement.

“Miss, could I get your autograph?”

“What’s your Weibo? I want to follow you!”

“Miss, you’re amazing at skating! Are you an ice dance competitor?”

Shu Ran was taken aback. Most summer Olympic events were more popular than winter ones, and those who truly understood figure skating as amateurs were genuine enthusiasts.

Figure skating, as a Winter Olympic event, was rather niche—so niche that when major competitions were held domestically, almost no one outside the circle of fans would watch. Figure skating wasn’t just about artistry; it was highly technical, too. To outsiders, it might seem odd that Skater A made no mistakes, while Skater B fell several times, yet B’s score was higher. The reason lay in the base value of technical difficulty for each element.

Because it was difficult to appreciate and hard to get into, even interested audiences gradually lost enthusiasm when they couldn’t understand the competition. Moreover, most people only cared about results. In recent years, the national team’s talent pool for ice sports was thin, and few had won gold medals. If everyone knew the home competitors weren’t as strong, there was even less incentive to watch.

Such a vicious cycle only made figure skating more obscure.

Suddenly, Shu Ran understood that their praise—and their adoration—stemmed mostly from their lack of understanding. It was only those dizzying maneuvers that made them overestimate her skill.

Back in the car, Shu Ran silently buckled her seatbelt.

Fu Yiqing suddenly spoke. “I’ll take you back to the dorm later. I’ll let the head coach know about your resignation.”

“Uh…”

“If you have something to say, spit it out. If not, don’t bother. I can’t stand people who hem and haw.” Fu Yiqing’s words were ruthlessly blunt.

Shu Ran’s cheeks reddened; her voice dropped and her words tumbled out much faster. “I won’t quit the team.”

“I also dislike hearing things twice. Speak up.”

Shu Ran didn’t know why, but it felt as though a current of heat surged through her body, her mind, her heart. Suddenly, she was filled with countless impulses. If she didn’t speak now, there might never be another chance.

“Coach Fu, I’m not quitting the team.”

She turned to face him directly, her voice ringing out loud and resolute.

Fu Yiqing raised his brows slightly, his expression inscrutable. “Didn’t you say I was forcing you to stay? Why have you changed your mind?”

“I…”

She was torn. When she’d made up her mind to leave, a little voice inside listed all the benefits of quitting. But the applause and cheers from the bystanders just now seemed to water a seed in her heart—a seed that had never sprouted before.

“I want to stay. I’ve practiced figure skating for eleven years and I haven’t achieved any of my dreams yet. But now… I want more applause.”

Fu Yiqing said nothing, his hands resting on the steering wheel, eyes fixed ahead.

He glanced at her briefly, and when he saw the anxiety on her face, a glimmer flashed in his eyes. “You said it yourself, not me. I’m not forcing you.”

Shu Ran felt something was off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, so she nodded.

“If you join my team, there’s only one rule: unless you win, quitting is not an option.”

Looking at his determined profile, Shu Ran realized he wasn’t joking—he’d always been this serious.

She still doubted herself, but that didn’t stop a faint spark of hope for victory from igniting inside her.

“All right.”

Fu Yiqing took Shu Ran back to the team.

She had only one request: that Fu Yiqing not go around telling everyone he was grooming her to be a world champion.

His reply was, “You’re not in a position to negotiate with me.”

But Fu Yiqing did refrain from mentioning it to outsiders. However, just because he didn’t say anything didn’t mean others wouldn’t, and just because others didn’t, didn’t mean Liang Yue would miss a chance to mock her.

Soon, not only the women’s singles team, but also pairs, men’s singles, and ice dance—all the national figure skating team members knew Shu Ran had landed a handsome new coach, and that she’d declared her intention to win the women’s singles world championship.

It was quite the sensation.

In recent years, the best result in women’s singles had been Liang Yue’s 10th place and Jiang Wanru’s 13th at last year’s world championships. Shu Ran hadn’t even qualified to compete, so no one believed she could win a championship. But aside from Liang Yue, no one laughed at her; not only were they busy with their own training, but they all shared the same dream and wouldn’t mock a fellow dreamer.

Training under a new coach, Shu Ran’s routine was much the same as before.

Fu Yiqing hardly ever instructed her on technical moves. He merely reminded her at the appointed time, “Time’s up. Now you have off-ice training. Do ten sets of cardio, then ten minutes of stretching.”

But his silence in front of outsiders didn’t mean he promised not to mention it to Shu Ran herself.

Shu Ran couldn’t help but wonder about his methods. Could this really shape a world champion?

Half a month later, Fu Yiqing had Shu Ran move out of the dorm and into his house.

She didn’t know how Fu Yiqing explained it to her parents, but they stopped calling to persuade her to give up skating—in fact, they even called to encourage her.

Shu Ran found herself faintly impressed.

His home was a small villa. To own such a place in City B spoke to considerable means, and he’d even rented a nearby rink.

This made Shu Ran inexplicably nervous.

Over dinner, she couldn’t help but voice her concern. “Coach Fu, is this really all right?”

Fu Yiqing didn’t answer. He simply looked up at her, his piercing gaze asking—What is it?

“All this, just for me—renting an entire rink. Isn’t it a bit much?”

“If I can produce a world champion, none of this matters. Besides…” His voice grew cold. “It’s not something you should be worrying about. You just follow my instructions and train hard.”

Shu Ran lowered her head again. “Okay.”

With “world champion” constantly on Fu Yiqing’s lips, Shu Ran had expected his training to be the stuff of nightmares.

But reality was nothing like she’d imagined.

After moving in, her training regimen relaxed instead of intensifying. On-ice hours decreased, as did off-ice training.

Instead, her rest time increased. When not training, Fu Yiqing would have her watch films, read books, or listen to music.

Shu Ran’s workload was lighter than before, not heavier.

After three days, she began to feel uneasy.

One day, after a movie, Shu Ran stopped Fu Yiqing.

“Coach Fu.”

“Yes?”

“Um… I know you’re the coach and you must have your reasons, but my training hours are much less than before. Is that really okay?”

“If you know I have my reasons, don’t ask.”

“Uh—” Shu Ran was left speechless, biting her lower lip. “All right. I just feel that training like this is too haphazard. With less time, how can I improve?”

Fu Yiqing swept his gaze up and down her. “You think you’re not training enough?”

She nodded.

She even wondered if Fu Yiqing was a saboteur sent by Liang Yue.

The next day, her rest time was cut, but it didn’t go into more on-ice or off-ice training. The extra hour was for writing a film reflection.

Shu Ran was stunned. She’d done so much in one day—she was exhausted, yet before bed she still went to find Fu Yiqing.

With a look that said, “Coach, have you misunderstood something?” she was about to speak when he cut her off: “I know what you want to ask. I’ll tell you now—until you win a medal, your training will be based on this model.”

“Film appreciation and performance are the core of your training plan.”

Shu Ran’s lips parted. She clearly wanted to ask more, but what came out was, “May I ask why?”

He responded with a question. “What do you think figure skating is?”

“?”

“I mean, what do you think figure skating is really about?”

Technical skill, Shu Ran thought, growing nervous. Fu Yiqing wouldn’t ask for no reason, so that couldn’t be the answer.

Reflecting on his mention of “training,” an idea dawned on her.

With this thought, she looked up instinctively and ventured, “Artistry?”

“You’re not as slow as I thought.”

“…”

“Some programs use music from classic films, others are just songs, or operas, stage plays, symphonies—whatever the form, what the music expresses can’t be understood superficially. If it’s a film score, you must have seen the film, grasped its deeper meaning and the protagonist’s inner world, to truly convey the nuances of the music.”

At last, Shu Ran understood the care behind his approach. Still, to grasp a character’s psychological journey surely didn’t have to be this complicated. Once the program was chosen, she could study the story during choreography—wouldn’t that suffice? Wasn’t the time spent on unrelated films better used for more practice?

Seeing her frowning and lost in thought, Fu Yiqing knew she still had doubts. “If you want to know the real reason, write a good reflection today and show me tomorrow, through your performance, what you’ve learned.”

Shu Ran returned to her room and turned on the desk lamp.

Thinking about the plot of “Lolita,” she began to work.

Night had fallen completely, the sky a dark curtain with only a trace of blue seeping through—no stars, and the moon had chosen to grace someone else’s view.

She rested her chin on her hand, chewing her pen. Her phone buzzed repeatedly on the desk until she finally picked it up.

It was her best friend, Xu Jingyu: “Heard from your parents you’re being groomed as a world champion? What’s going on?”

Xu Jingyu was the daughter of Zhu Xinhui, Shu Ran’s coach from the local team, and a dance teacher herself. Back when Shu Ran was training locally, Xu often helped her with dance.

Later, Shu Ran was selected for the national team, and contact between them waned. When Shu Ran’s results dipped, she was sent back to the local team for a time, only returning to the national team last year. With all these comings and goings, the two only recently reconnected.

Although Xu Jingyu was five years her senior, she was always lively and funny, making the younger, quieter Shu Ran seem mature. The age gap slipped their minds, and they became close friends without barriers.

Looking at her half-finished reflection and blank mind, Shu Ran began typing: “I don’t really know either. They just switched my coach, and he keeps telling me I’ll be world champion. I used to think it was a distant dream, but now, the way he says it, it almost feels within reach.”

“At least he’s got an eye for talent.”

Having known Fu Yiqing for just over a month, Shu Ran finally had someone to confide in and told Xu Jingyu all about the odd training methods.

“To be honest, I’m not sure this is reliable.”

“It’s already eleven. You still have to write your reflection and perform for him tomorrow?”

“The moves aren’t important. He just wants to see how I’ve understood the film.”

“I’ve seen that movie. Let me help you.”

Shu Ran hesitated, but it was late and she had to be up for conditioning at six. She really wanted to know the reason behind Fu Yiqing’s plan.

“All right.”

Xu Jingyu, drawing on her dance teacher’s perspective, coached Shu Ran on what emotions to use for each scene and how to accentuate certain movements with arm gestures.

They talked until midnight, yawning, before finally drifting off to sleep.