Chapter Fifty-three: Breaking the Record

There was a month between the Grand Prix events in the United States and Russia this season. With her teammates by her side, Shu Ran finally adjusted her mindset and began her penultimate period of intense training for the season.

Kristina had signed up for the Japan event, which took place just two days before Shu Ran’s competition in Russia.

Aware of her own shaky state of mind and determined to train with greater focus, Shu Ran voluntarily handed over her phone, isolating herself from outside information.

Even so, the effect was not what Shu Ran had hoped for.

It was impossible to avoid hearing new updates in daily contact with her teammates—after all, they were all in the same field, and the topics of conversation naturally revolved around figure skating.

Half a month after moving back to the team, Shu Ran requested to return home from Fu Yiqing.

“Move back home?”

Shu Ran nodded and voiced her concerns.

Fu Yiqing’s eyes darkened as he considered her words. “You’ll find out Kristina’s results in Japan sooner or later. Even if you avoid it this time, you’ll meet her at the Grand Prix Final. If luck isn’t on your side and you have to skate after her, what will you do then?”

Shu Ran pressed her lips together, silent.

“Will you blindfold yourself to avoid seeing her scores? Cover your ears to block out the cheers for Kristina? Besides, the Grand Prix isn’t the main goal—the World Championships are.”

Fu Yiqing looked at Shu Ran, wanting to say more harsh but realistic things, but in the end his words softened.

She was still so young.

“I think it’s better for you to train with your teammates,” he said. “But if you really want to move back, that’s okay too. It’s all up to you. I’m just giving you my best advice from my perspective.”

“Then… I won’t move back after all.”

Just as Fu Yiqing said, pressure was unavoidable, but even though training with her teammates didn’t make things less exhausting, talking to others who understood the hardships did help relieve stress in its own way.

Still, Kristina remained a thorn in Shu Ran’s heart.

Another ten days passed.

After training, Shu Ran saw Qin Liubei and Fu Yiqing with furrowed brows, looking as though something serious had happened.

Her instincts told her it must have something to do with her.

Qin Liubei glanced at Shu Ran and said with a sigh, “There are only four days left until the competition.”

Shu Ran had been so focused on training that she’d lost track of the dates. Hearing this, she immediately understood.

Kristina’s results from the Japan event must be out.

What Fu Yiqing had said was true—if she continued to avoid facing Kristina, the only result waiting for her would be failure.

With this thought, Shu Ran took a deep breath. “So, what place did she get in Japan?”

“If you mean Kristina…” Fu Yiqing paused for a second. “She didn’t make it.”

“Huh—what?!”

Shu Ran’s head shot up as she looked at them.

Neither of their expressions changed—one nodded, the other sighed and began to explain.

Fu Yiqing said, “Kristina made significant mistakes in both of her events. Her total score in Japan placed her eighth, and with her second place in Canada, she earned 13 points there. That’s a combined total of 14 points, so she’s likely to miss out on the Grand Prix Final.”

Shu Ran realized their serious expressions earlier had actually been ones of confusion.

Kristina had always performed well—how could she suddenly make consecutive mistakes?

Shu Ran was just as puzzled.

Fu Yiqing continued, “Whatever the reason, it’s good news for us. Shu Ran, keep training and don’t stress. The Grand Prix Final doesn’t prove anything.”

Shu Ran nodded.

It might not be very humane to hope for someone else’s mistakes, but truthfully, the pressure in Shu Ran’s heart eased considerably.

This incident made Shu Ran realize that Kristina was just an ordinary figure skater too—she could make mistakes, she wasn’t an insurmountable mountain.

Over the next three days, Shu Ran’s training reached an unprecedented high.

Watching Shu Ran glide across the ice, Fu Yiqing’s lips curved in a smile.

Seeing his good mood, Qin Liubei laughed, “Are you finally feeling relieved? The way she’s doing now, if she went to the Winter Olympics, she could probably crack the top ten.”

Fu Yiqing kept his eyes fixed on Shu Ran’s every move, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Actually, this just proves her state of mind isn’t stable—otherwise, she wouldn’t be performing so well just because she heard Kristina made mistakes.”

Qin Liubei’s smile faded as he followed Fu Yiqing’s gaze onto the ice. “The day Shu Ran truly steadies her mindset, her chances of beating Kristina will be much higher.”

Three of the six Grand Prix events had already concluded.

Among them, the Chinese team’s women’s singles skaters had mostly entered the China and France stages. The French event hadn’t started yet; in the Chinese event, only Liang Yue’s result stood out—she finished fourth.

For Liang Yue to qualify for the Grand Prix Final:

First, she’d have to win first place in France.

Second, the skaters ahead of her would all need to make major mistakes.

Only if both happened would Liang Yue have a chance.

But even one of these is highly unlikely, let alone both.

So once again, all the team’s hopes were pinned on Shu Ran.

Russia had unparalleled skating conditions; Moscow alone boasted more than a hundred ice rinks.

If Canada and Japan were traditional figure skating powerhouses, then Russia was truly blessed by nature. The women’s skaters were petite yet possessed the robust physiques of Europeans, excelling at jumps, and had rinks right at their doorstep. Last Olympics, Kaoru Motoharu won only bronze—the champion was Russian, and the previous Olympics’ silver medalist was also Russian.

This alone showed the formidable strength of Russian skaters.

With top athletes from various countries competing, the Russian event became even more unpredictable.

In the short program, based on her points, Shu Ran was placed in the penultimate group, drawing to skate third in that group.

The order wasn’t bad.

Shu Ran let out a quiet sigh of relief, lay down on her yoga mat, and seized the moment for a final sprint of training.

During the six-minute pre-competition warm-up on the ice, Shu Ran mentally reviewed the key points of her routine.

After Maggie, who skated ahead of Shu Ran, finished, the ice attendants hurried to collect the gifts thrown by fans.

Shu Ran gripped the advertising board at the rink’s edge; at that moment, time seemed to slow.

Voices from the stands mingled, echoing throughout the arena.

“You’ve competed so many times—if you’re still nervous, you really have no excuse,” Fu Yiqing said.

Shu Ran raised her face and gave him a smile.

At that moment, the arena was cleared, and the announcer called her name.

Shu Ran puffed out her cheeks and let out a deep breath, gliding to center ice.

“Shu Ran, representing China. Her program is ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.’”

Yu Jiaolong was proud, yet lonely—her martial prowess unmatched, yet unknown to the world, her theft of the sword a mere act of willfulness.

Such a character might be called headstrong, but in truth, people act willfully because they are sheltered, have never seen the world’s darkness, and do not need to change themselves to adapt to reality.

This mirrored Shu Ran’s own life.

She was a blank slate, but under Fu Yiqing’s guidance, her interpretation of Yu Jiaolong, if not perfect, was at least seven-tenths accurate.

Fu Yiqing believed that Shu Ran’s program component score would not be low in this short program.

Suddenly, applause erupted throughout the arena as Shu Ran stabilized a jump that seemed impossible to land without falling.

The crowd gasped, and even Qin Liubei was astonished by Shu Ran’s reflexes. “This girl…”

Fu Yiqing’s gaze on Shu Ran was intense, his hands unconsciously clenched from tension.

Shu Ran herself was just as surprised, but she had no time for pride. Wielding her hand like a sword, she performed dance-like sword movements. Under her interpretation, every rotation resembled the lightness of martial arts, as if she had truly entered the film’s world, offering the audience a feast for the senses.

She was wholly immersed in the cinematic world, transformed into the innocent yet highly skilled Yu Jiaolong. The dance-infused martial arts moves were even more captivating. Perhaps the audience had not come for Shu Ran, but her performance captivated them all—their bodies leaned forward, not wanting to miss a single frame.

Just as in the movie’s final scene, where Yu Jiaolong leaps off the cliff to end her life, Shu Ran’s eyes brimmed with despair and revelation.

The music accelerated, her spins growing ever faster, until the routine ended in a blur of motion. Her bamboo-green costume made it seem as if the audience had been transported back to that endless sea of green bamboo.

As the performance ended, applause crashed like waves.

Some Chinese fans in the stands unfurled the Chinese flag, and the arena resounded with a single name—Shu Ran.

Some were so excited their voices were hoarse.

Shu Ran smiled up at the source of the cheers, waving, which only made them shout louder.

Breathless, she bowed to the stands, her face bright with joy but overwhelmed with exhaustion.

Even she hadn’t expected to skate a clean program.

She gathered up the plush toys thrown onto the ice by her fans and skated off.

Fu Yiqing’s expression softened as he opened his arms to her.

They embraced.

He patted her back gently, saying, “You did wonderfully.”

“Mm.”

The hug lasted only three seconds before Qin Liubei opened his arms. “Your sister-in-law asked me to give you a hug on her behalf.”

Shu Ran’s smile widened as she hugged him in return.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Shu Ran walked with them to the results area.

She knew her score wouldn’t be bad, but when she saw the numbers, she was stunned.

A half-second of silence, then the arena exploded with exclamations.

Short program: 81.41 points.

The skaters who had already performed were shocked but relieved—they were glad to have skated before Shu Ran. If they’d had to follow her, the pressure would have been immense.

Among those skating after Shu Ran were her familiar American rival Jennifer, Japan’s Miye Miyagi, and the reigning Olympic champion, Samantha.

Samantha stared at the scoreboard, momentarily forgetting to move her feet.

Her thoughts scattered.

This Chinese girl had just shattered the short program world record.