Chapter Forty-Four: Chinese Martial Arts

The next day, Fu Yiqing took Shu Ran to the opera again. Although she still didn’t find inspiration for a new program, her mood was much improved.

Six days passed in a blink, and Shu Ran still had no new ideas. After changing into her training clothes in the locker room, she sat on the bench, lacing up her skates.

Fu Yiqing and Qin Liubei stood nearby, discussing her recent performance.

“If you put it this way,” Qin Liubei turned his laptop to Fu Yiqing, “you see, the data indicators have already been met, but the skating technique is still lacking…”

Fu Yiqing picked up the thread, “Not smooth enough.”

“Exactly, not smooth enough.” Qin Liubei snapped his fingers.

“Clap—clap—” Two crisp claps sounded.

Shu Ran looked up toward the entrance and saw Lin Jiahui glance at them. “Everyone, guess who’s here!”

Standing just behind Lin Jiahui was a tall, slender young man, with long lashes, pale lips and even whiter teeth, strikingly handsome and quiet. His lean figure and the chill in his expression were not born of coldness, but of years spent on the ice, giving him a detached, ethereal air untouched by the world.

Shu Ran’s hands, which had been quickly tying her laces, suddenly slowed, unable to tear her gaze away.

Yuan Cangyu!

Fu Yiqing caught sight of her dazed look and frowned slightly, absently rubbing his fingertips, his eyes unreadable.

Lin Jiahui hooked her arm around Yuan Cangyu’s shoulders and stopped before the three of them. “This is my former student, Yuan Cangyu.”

Once the coach had finished the introductions, Yuan Cangyu looked at Shu Ran and, in halting Mandarin, said, “Hello, I’m Yuan Cangyu.”

He extended his right hand, slender and boneless, so pale that the blue veins beneath the skin were visible—his skin was even fairer than hers.

Shu Ran swallowed, discreetly wiped the sweat from her palm behind her back, and nervously shook his hand. “Hello, I’m Shu Ran.”

Yuan Cangyu smiled shyly—a faint, gentle smile that warmed those who saw it.

Lin Jiahui gave his shoulder a light pat, a subtle signal. Yuan Cangyu sat down nearby and began changing into his skates.

Lin Jiahui’s gaze slid over to the silent Fu Yiqing, a smile flickering in her eyes. She cleared her throat, “Yuan Cangyu happened to be passing by, so I told him my current student is his fan and asked him to help guide his little junior. What do you think, Barrow?”

Fu Yiqing nodded lightly. “Yuan Cangyu’s technique and artistry are both top-tier. I have no objections to him coaching Shu Ran.”

With that, Fu Yiqing signaled Shu Ran to get on the ice and skate for Yuan Cangyu.

Since she hadn’t started rehearsing a new program, Shu Ran performed last season’s short program, “Resurrection.”

Yuan Cangyu leaned on the barrier, watching her performance with intense focus.

When Shu Ran finished her final backbend, she caught sight of Yuan Cangyu approaching—inverted in her view. She quickly stood up.

“I’ll be blunt—don’t mind,” he said.

Shu Ran nodded.

“Your skating quality is lacking. Good technique not only saves stamina but also helps transition between movements smoothly.” Yuan Cangyu’s expression was earnest. “Take a look at the shapes you carve on the ice.”

Shu Ran glanced back. The patterns she’d traced were far from regular, especially the circular edge before the spin, which was obviously distorted.

She understood his point—her speed was so fast she couldn’t control it herself. Skaters with top-quality skating can expertly control their speed and edges; Yuan Cangyu was one of them.

Yuan Cangyu’s English was passable, his Mandarin even less so.

Their communication became a blend of three languages, accompanied by gestures. At a loss for words, Yuan Cangyu simply demonstrated on the ice.

From afar, they were a striking pair: a graceful beauty and a refined young man, their features subtly similar, a ten-centimeter difference in height making them look well-matched.

Qin Liubei grinned to himself, occasionally glancing at Fu Yiqing. Surprisingly, Fu Yiqing’s expression remained calm, apparently unbothered by the harmonious scene on the ice.

Something felt off to Qin Liubei. He coughed lightly and asked Lin Jiahui, “How old is Yuan Cangyu this year?”

“Twenty-one,” Lin Jiahui replied.

“Perfect—only two years older than her. Once they retire, they’d make a good match, solving both love and career.”

Lin Jiahui shot a quick glance at Fu Yiqing, then hid her smile and feigned thoughtfulness. “Now that you mention it, Yuan Cangyu is single too. That’s a sound suggestion.”

Then Qin Liubei sidled up to Lin Jiahui, prying into Yuan Cangyu’s situation. After a quiet exchange, the two turned to observe Fu Yiqing’s reaction—only to find he had vanished.

Looking around, Qin Liubei spotted Fu Yiqing walking over to where Shu Ran rested against a wall, handing her a tissue, which she accepted without hesitation to wipe her sweat.

Qin Liubei was baffled.

Lin Jiahui folded her arms. “They say a woman’s heart is a needle at the bottom of the sea, but I’ve never been able to read his.”

Qin Liubei, used to it, patted her shoulder with a deep breath. “Maybe Fu Yiqing’s heart is twenty thousand leagues under the sea.”

Lin Jiahui burst out laughing.

They joined Fu Yiqing, who had relocated, to inquire about Shu Ran’s training.

Fu Yiqing’s expression was indifferent. “Weren’t you two present?”

The question stumped them—they had been so busy teasing Fu Yiqing, they’d forgotten their duties.

No longer daring to joke, they cleared their throats and returned to proper training.

Every good athlete is an excellent coach.

Though her skating speed couldn’t change overnight, Shu Ran noticed progress—most notably, her stamina improved.

Yuan Cangyu skated to the barrier for a drink, sweat dampening his tousled hair as he tilted his head back to gulp water.

Shu Ran was momentarily dazed. Yuan Cangyu, thinking she was tired, said, “Rest a bit.”

They leaned on the barrier together.

Shu Ran glanced at him repeatedly, her hesitant demeanor catching his attention.

“What is it?” His voice was cool and clear.

After a moment’s hesitation, Shu Ran confessed that Bellus had asked her to come up with a new program for the season.

“So you still haven’t thought of anything?” Yuan Cangyu’s directness made Shu Ran embarrassed, and she nodded honestly.

He furrowed his elegant brows, his voice soft and drawn out, “Being asked to improvise like this does add pressure, making it even harder to find inspiration. I usually jot down ideas whenever they come to me, saving them for gala performances, and sometimes I even choreograph or change programs on the fly.”

Hearing this, Shu Ran’s heart sank again. Her results weren’t stable as it was; a last-minute program change would surely hurt her performance. This season’s World Championships were crucial—she couldn’t take the risk.

She couldn’t help but wish she had another four years.

Yuan Cangyu suggested, “Actually, the simplest way is to draw inspiration from your country’s heritage or history, or from famous literary classics. For example, my program last season was inspired by our country’s classic, ‘The Tale of Genji.’ You could try something like that.”

At the sudden suggestion, Shu Ran’s mind went blank.

“Tell you what,” Yuan Cangyu said, seeing her troubled, “show me your skating videos, and I’ll help you look for inspiration.”

That sounded feasible.

They left the rink and sat on a bench to watch videos together.

Fu Yiqing stood in place, watching them for a moment before walking over.

Qin Liubei thought he was upset and raised his hand to stop Fu Yiqing, but Lin Jiahui stopped him instead, signaling him to wait and see.

Fu Yiqing softened his steps and quickly joined their group, watching the videos with them. The three of them discussed the performances intently, leaving Qin Liubei dumbfounded.

“He’s no longer twenty thousand leagues deep; I think his heart’s a bottomless pit. Or does he really not care if those two are together?”

Lin Jiahui’s gaze was sharp as she watched the harmonious trio. “You could say he cares, or you could say he doesn’t.”

Qin Liubei looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that he cares more about her dreams.” He could respect anyone who could help Shu Ran, even if that person made him feel threatened.

Shu Ran sat between Yuan Cangyu and Fu Yiqing, both of whom explained things to her with utmost seriousness.

A gentle smile gradually appeared in Lin Jiahui’s eyes—a blend of admiration and satisfaction.

“Cultural heritage…” Shu Ran tasted the words, racking her brains.

Suddenly, she shouted with joy, “I’ve got it!”

Fu Yiqing’s face lit up with her delight, his gaze soft as he waited for her answer.

“Martial arts!” How could she have forgotten? Aside from history, the whole world assumed every Chinese person knew kung fu.

Confusion flickered in Yuan Cangyu’s clear eyes.

Shu Ran’s eyes curved in a smile. “Chinese kung fu!” she said in English, imitating a movie star’s punch.

Yuan Cangyu finally understood, though his smile was still faint. “Not bad, but your choreographer is Bellus, and I doubt he knows martial arts.”

Shu Ran’s smile immediately drooped. “Ah—happy for nothing.”

“Not necessarily,” Fu Yiqing said softly.

Hope returned to Shu Ran’s face. She looked up at him, careful, “Really?”

Fu Yiqing replied, “Did you forget you have a dance teacher?”

Shu Ran stared blankly, and Fu Yiqing chuckled. “Pure martial arts would be difficult, especially on ice. But we can transform martial arts movements into dance.”

Shu Ran’s smile returned, and she bounced with excitement. “Coach, you’re a genius!”

The dance teacher was obviously Xu Jingyu.

Fu Yiqing’s smile deepened, his eyes fixed only on Shu Ran, the hint of indulgence evident beneath his gentle expression.

Nearby, Yuan Cangyu watched the expressive pair in silence, his eyes moving as if something had dawned on him, though his gaze remained cool and aloof.