Chapter Sixty-Three: Liang Yue’s Retirement

Fu Yiqing’s original intention in asking Qin Liubei to bring Xu Jingyu over was to cheer up Shu Ran, hoping she could forget the unpleasantness at the GPF. Yet Shu Ran turned her rest days into training, making Xu Jingyu and Qin Liubei’s presence rather redundant. After all, Fu Yiqing was already Shu Ran’s artistic director; without those two quarrelsome companions, his days would be a little more peaceful.

After dinner, Qin Liubei and Xu Jingyu resumed their daily routine of banter—their survival instinct dialogue. Only when they had ascended the stairs and their noisy voices faded did Fu Yiqing call out to Shu Ran.

Shu Ran responded, “Hm?”

Fu Yiqing said, “You don’t need to train these days. Would you like to… go home and see your parents?”

Shu Ran lowered her eyes, then raised her brows and shook her head, “No need.”

“Are you sure?” Fu Yiqing reminded her, “The World Championships are in March next year. If you don’t go now, you might not be able to return home until after the Winter Olympics next year.”

Shu Ran pondered for a few seconds before shaking her head again, “It’s fine, I can call or video chat with them. They’ll understand.” They always had.

Seeing her determination, Fu Yiqing didn’t try to persuade her further.

That evening, Lin Jiahui video-called Fu Yiqing.

After a brief conversation, Fu Yiqing handed the phone to Shu Ran.

Lin Jiahui greeted Shu Ran warmly, “Hey, little Shu Ran, how are you feeling?”

Shu Ran glanced sideways, “Jiahui, if you’re here to comfort me, there’s no need. Berus already called this morning to console me.”

Lin Jiahui laughed and looked at Fu Yiqing, who was engrossed in his tablet. “Barro, you told me to comfort her and give her confidence, but clearly you don’t know your student at all. She’s not nearly as fragile as you think.”

Shu Ran turned a surprised gaze toward Fu Yiqing.

Fu Yiqing’s face flickered with embarrassment as Lin Jiahui exposed his words. “Ahem—I wasn’t underestimating her.”

“Alright, I won’t tease you. Actually, Shu Ran, there’s something important I wanted to ask.” Lin Jiahui’s smile faded, her expression serious. “Most people might not notice, but your performance that day was truly unusual. What happened?”

Shu Ran hesitated for a few seconds, searching for the right words.

Fu Yiqing interjected first, “She had an upset stomach the day before.”

Lin Jiahui visibly relaxed, patting her chest. “That’s good. I thought you were injured.”

“Oh, and actually, I didn’t watch your competition live. I was abroad. Your senior messaged me, asking if you were injured, so I went to watch the broadcast.”

“Yuan Cangyu?”

Shu Ran’s mind conjured the image of Yuan Cangyu’s aloof, ascetic face—she felt touched, but more surprised.

To her, the bond with Yuan Cangyu was little more than a connection through Lin Jiahui, and they’d only met once, with no contact since. She could hardly imagine this seemingly distant senior cared about her competition.

Lin Jiahui nodded vigorously, “Yes. Now that I know you’re alright, I can tell him the good news.”

Before ending the video call, Lin Jiahui added, “Shu Ran, for figure skaters, as long as you’re not injured, everything is unknown. Even if you are, it doesn’t mean it’s the end.”

Shu Ran’s fingers paused.

She remembered the end of the GPF free skate—Luolin left the rink on crutches, but once on the ice, she acted as though nothing had happened.

Reflecting on Lin Jiahui’s words, Shu Ran suddenly felt grateful.

At least she wasn’t injured—her journey in figure skating could still continue.

With the start of the GP series, it was rare to see Shu Ran using her phone during the day. So when Fu Yiqing noticed her chatting on her tablet, he was curious about who could be so captivating.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you chatting with?”

Shu Ran didn’t look up, her tone cheerful, “With my senior.”

Fu Yiqing: “…”

The living room fell silent.

Shu Ran’s fingers danced nimbly across the screen.

Fu Yiqing clenched his right fist and coughed lightly, “Do you chat often?”

“Not really, this is probably our first time…” Before she could finish, Shu Ran suddenly exclaimed in delight, “Wow! He’s actually online! He replied to me, what a coincidence.”

She sat cross-legged on the sofa, leaning closer to the screen, her happiness visibly growing.

Fu Yiqing’s expression darkened. He asked, “Is he very concerned about you?”

Shu Ran finally looked up—not at him, but with her arm folded, her right hand supporting her chin thoughtfully, “Maybe… he does care. Otherwise, why would he watch my competition and ask Jiahui about my health? Don’t you think so, coach?”

Fu Yiqing lifted his gaze, then looked away, “I don’t know.”

A while later, Fu Yiqing couldn’t resist glancing at Shu Ran again. For the first time, he realized he possessed such intense curiosity.

He asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Just thanking him for his concern.”

Fu Yiqing began to doubt his own understanding, “You’ve been chatting for five minutes.”

Words of thanks shouldn’t take even a minute.

Shu Ran was generous, moving closer with her tablet, “Here, just this.”

Fu Yiqing replied, “I’m not interested in other people’s privacy.”

“Oh.”

Shu Ran pulled back the tablet she’d been about to show him and continued typing.

Fu Yiqing pressed his lips together, hesitant to speak.

After a while, he said, “I found the live version of the opera you mentioned last time. Want to watch it now?”

“Wait a bit, I’m not done chatting.”

Fu Yiqing set the remote back on the coffee table, sat quietly for a moment, then stood and walked toward the stairs.

He paused, “How much longer will you be chatting?”

Shu Ran looked at him, puzzled, “Why, do you have something else to do?”

Actually… he didn’t.

He’d told Shu Ran to rest these days, so as long as she wasn’t keen on artistic training, she could chat as much as she wanted.

Fu Yiqing threw out a curt “No,” and went upstairs.

From above, he looked down at the living room—Shu Ran was still chatting excitedly with Yuan Cangyu. A sense of frustration welled up in him. He knew exactly what he was feeling, but he withdrew his gaze and returned to his room.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Meanwhile, Shu Ran typed a line on the screen, thanking Yuan Cangyu for sharing his competition insights.

Shu Ran: Thank you. I will sort myself out and return to the ice.

Yuan Cangyu: Mm, good luck.

They discussed a few training tips before ending the conversation.

Shu Ran looked up, only to find Fu Yiqing was gone.

“Where did he go?”

Three days later, Shu Ran’s health finally recovered, and ice training resumed.

After a day of training, Shu Ran heard major news from Wu Huihui.

Wu Huihui’s voice over the phone had a hint of secrecy, “Senior Liang seems to be retiring.”

There was only one female singles skater in the national team with the surname Liang: Liang Yue.

Shu Ran was shocked, “What? Why?” It was so sudden.

“You’re surprised, right? Me too. Not just you—the whole team is stunned. As for the reason, Coach Huo suspended her for three years. No one said exactly why, but everyone thinks your recent incident was her doing, so Coach Huo punished her.”

“Suspended for three years, so she’s retiring?”

“What else can she do? She’s already twenty-two. After three years of suspension, she’ll be twenty-five—what achievements could she hope for then?”

Usually, female singles who persist past twenty-five are already accomplished athletes. Those with lackluster results don’t break through when young, and as they age, their chances only diminish.

So Liang Yue’s decision to retire was the most logical choice.

“Wait.” Wu Huihui raised her voice, interrupting Shu Ran’s thoughts, “Senior, focus! I’m telling you Liang Yue probably switched your food. Aren’t you going to curse her out?”

In truth, the most likely suspect for harming her was Liang Yue. The head coach’s decision almost certainly proved it.

Shu Ran gave a bitter laugh, “The competition is over, what’s the point in cursing her? Besides, she’s received her due punishment.”

She used to think that for an athlete, the worst pain was injury. Now she realized there was something more agonizing—being healthy but unable to compete.

Lying in bed for a long time, Shu Ran couldn’t sleep.

She’d joined the national team at fourteen, spent a year back in her provincial team due to poor results, then returned and became rivals with Liang Yue.

They’d quarreled for years, and now it ended with Liang Yue’s retirement.

Shu Ran couldn’t help but sigh at the twists of fate.

Shu Ran’s dedication to training showed Fu Yiqing her resolve. Since Shu Ran herself was her strictest coach, Fu Yiqing no longer demanded as much as before.

But from Shu Ran’s perspective, something felt off.

She skated for a full hour, feeling no fatigue and still wanting to run through the music once more.

Fu Yiqing said, “Alright, take a twenty-minute break.”

Shu Ran protested, “Another break?”

Fu Yiqing chuckled softly, “It’s already been an hour.”

Shu Ran felt time had flown, doubted Fu Yiqing, checked his phone and confirmed, but still suspected, “Did you change the time on your phone?”

The hour had passed too quickly.

Overhead came Fu Yiqing’s pleasant voice, “Want some water?”

His tone was gentle, his face wore a kind smile—a warm, gentle neighborly boy. Shu Ran was startled.

Her coach had changed.

Recently, not only did Fu Yiqing stop assigning high-intensity training, but he smiled all the time, occasionally flashing her a grin.

It was unsettling, as if he’d become someone else.

Shu Ran took the water, struggling with the cap until her palm burned, unable to open it.

Fu Yiqing wordlessly took it, opened a new bottle for her, “Here, drink.”

Shu Ran took the opened bottle, swallowed with difficulty, then looked up timidly, “Coach Fu?”

Fu Yiqing frowned gently, “Hm?”

In seconds, Shu Ran’s mind was filled with speculation.

“I understand!”

She stood up firmly, “Coach, I won’t let your kindness go to waste.”

She drank the water confidently, removed her skate guards, and headed back to the rink.

Surely, the coach had switched to a gentler method to remind her to train harder, aiming to nurture her independence.

Fu Yiqing frowned, “It’s still break time.”

Shu Ran waved back at him, “I’ll make the most of my ‘break time.’”

Fu Yiqing lowered his gaze, deep in thought—perhaps he should be more explicit in future, specifying twenty minutes of off-ice rest.