Chapter Seventy-Six: The Group of Death

The icy wind brushed her face as Shu Ran shifted seamlessly from an inside Bauer step to an outside spread eagle, her movements flowing as effortlessly as drifting clouds. Her expression was always attuned to the mood of the music—at times sorrowful, at others serene and aloof. Even her sword dance seemed imbued with the music’s subtle sadness, softening each line of her choreography. Every stroke of her blade was infused with her entire being. Especially that final slash—swift and precise, yet laden with profound despair.

The audience watched, utterly entranced.

Only when the music faded did they return from this dazzling performance to themselves. Though the technical difficulty had been lowered, Shu Ran’s extraordinary artistic presence delivered a flawless, clean short program. The applause surged like a tidal wave.

Soon, the ice was blanketed with stuffed toys from her fans. Shu Ran glided off the rink, accepted blade guards from a staff member, and met Fu Yiqing’s searching gaze.

Amid the congratulatory embrace, Fu Yiqing asked quietly, “Are you all right?”

Understanding his concern, Shu Ran replied softly, “I’m fine.”

Together, they walked toward the Kiss and Cry. The reduced technical elements meant that, despite her error-free performance, the crucial factor would be the program component score—PCS. Shu Ran was unsure how her performance would be evaluated and uncertain whether she could seize the lead in the short program.

The announcer’s voice soon echoed through every corner of the rink, reporting her score.

“Shu Ran’s short program score is...”

Everyone looked up at the central screen.

TES: 37.21.
PCS: 40.68.
Final score for the short program: 77.89—nearly nine points clear of second-placed Kristina!

Even more significant, Shu Ran now held the highest PCS of the event so far.

Screams and cheers erupted.

Shu Ran stared wide-eyed in astonishment, covering her mouth, though she could not hide her joy. Her result far exceeded her expectations.

But it was too soon to celebrate; everyone in the final group was formidable.

Fu Yiqing seemed deeply concerned for Shu Ran’s foot. He kept asking, “Is your foot okay?” and even suggested seeing the doctor after the competition, to which Shu Ran readily agreed.

Of the next five skaters, only Chelsea’s performance was lackluster; the other four were in excellent form. Kiyohara Yeka concluded her program with “The Tale of Princess Kaguya.” Though she made few mistakes, her jumps—her usual strength—lacked quality this time, so she barely claimed third in the short program, only 0.81 points ahead of fourth-placed Chen Yuqi.

Maggie took fifth, while Samantha moved the judges with her “You Don’t Belong Here,” clinching first in the short program with 80.14 points.

Though she only finished second, Shu Ran was thoroughly satisfied with her performance today. Due to her injury, she hadn’t set high expectations for herself this time. It also meant that as long as her free skate wasn’t disastrous, a top-twelve finish should be well within reach.

Afterward, Fu Yiqing had the team doctor examine Shu Ran’s foot. Once assured there was no problem, he finally let her return to her room to rest.

Leaving Shu Ran’s room, Fu Yiqing fell into a daze.

Qin Liubei came out and found him like this. He clapped Fu Yiqing on the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Fu Yiqing glanced back at the tightly closed door. Qin Liubei understood and followed him into the room.

It was stuffy inside, so they slid open the balcony door and stepped outside.

“Still worried about the competition?” Qin Liubei guessed, seeing the silence, “I don’t get it—she did really well today, her foot’s fine, so what are you worried about?”

Fu Yiqing didn’t answer for a long time. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and finally said, “I have a bad feeling.”

Qin Liubei arched his brow, looking at him in surprise for a long while before laughing. “Are you still the cool, aloof ISU vice president I used to know?”

His laughter wasn’t loud, but in the still, cold night, it sounded especially clear.

“Mmm.”

Qin Liubei leaned casually against the railing. “Do you know what this means?”

Fu Yiqing looked at him.

Qin Liubei continued, “It means you care too much. When you care, you lose your head. You’re overthinking because you’re too invested.”

Fu Yiqing knew Qin Liubei often joked, but this time his words rang true.

It was precisely because he cared that he feared failure all the more.

Fu Yiqing nodded. “I understand.”

“If there’s nothing else, I’m going to bed.” Qin Liubei was about to open the door when Fu Yiqing’s voice called from behind, “Prepare medical supplies for tomorrow, and bring the team doctor.”

Qin Liubei laughed again. “Brother, do you really not know, or did you forget? There’s medical staff on site.”

Fu Yiqing didn’t act as if he’d just realized this. Instead, his expression grew solemn. “I don’t trust anyone else.”

Qin Liubei walked away, raising his arm to make an “OK” gesture.

Fu Yiqing stood in the room for a while, then went into the bathroom.

If possible, he hoped there would be no need for those preparations tomorrow.

*

After morning practice and a short rest, only three hours remained until the free skate.

Shu Ran was suddenly seized by a sense of detachment from the world. After so much effort, the final moment had finally come.

Xu Jingyu had intended to stay and watch Shu Ran perform, but a last-minute emergency forced her to rush back home. Seeing that Shu Ran’s results would almost certainly qualify her for Worlds, she left early for China.

The men’s singles and ice dance led off.

Zhu Hongzhe skated first in the free skate, ultimately securing three Olympic spots for the men's team by finishing first in the short program, free skate, and overall.

Congratulations flooded the internet.

From the beginning, the last two groups in figure skating were known as the “groups of death.”

The free skate draw was based on the previous day’s short program rankings. Shu Ran was in the final group.

Her group included Samantha, Kiyohara Yeka, Chen Yuqi, and Kristina.

When they drew for skating order, Shu Ran picked number 35—she would skate last.

The competition began.

Shu Ran used her extra time for warm-up.

She still didn’t know how Wu Huihui and Jiang Wanru had performed.

The first skater in the final group was Kiyohara Yeka, whose music was “Castle in the Sky.” Rumor had it she had a background in gymnastics, giving her excellent flexibility—the Biellmann spin was especially beautiful.

But her lead was soon overtaken by Samantha, while Chen Yuqi placed second after her skate.

Kristina would again perform before Shu Ran.

Her free skate program was “Amélie,” and while her technical elements remained superb, her artistry was clearly improved over the previous day.

Her total score: 210.31, placing her just behind Samantha, whose total was 221.32.

Shu Ran had yet to take the ice, but the final standings for Worlds were already taking shape.

Both the live audience and viewers at home were filled with anticipation, curious whether Shu Ran could once again surpass Samantha, as she had at the Russian stop of the Grand Prix.

Standing on the ice, Shu Ran’s heart pounded wildly.

So calmness was only temporary—when the moment arrived, she was just as nervous as ever. Even the air above the rink felt frigid; after so much time on the ice, she could sense the state of the surface with even the faintest whiff.

If it felt too cold, it meant the ice conditions were poor today—too much loose ice.

She instinctively pressed a hand over her heart, feeling its frantic rhythm, and took a deep breath.

She heard the announcer: “Shu Ran, representing China, skating to ‘Air on the G String’ for her free program.”

The audience fell silent.

Graceful, lilting notes spilled from the speakers. Her figure on the ice was poetic, telling the story of herself and this rink through movement.

She lost herself in her own music, savoring every moment.

A slightly flawed triple flip was quickly stabilized by her agile legs.

Shu Ran’s brows knit together as she used a twizzle sequence to transition into her spin.

During her wait to skate, she had already seen the current standings—Wu Huihui and Jiang Wanru had suffered major errors, falling out of the top twenty-four.

She had to achieve a better result to make up for it.

For a moment, her routine faltered, but she held herself together.

The ice conditions were poor, so Shu Ran increased her speed.

She launched into a Bauer step, right blade toe-picking for momentum, left blade taking off from the outside edge, both arms raised above her head as she entered a beautiful lutz.

The next instant, she crashed hard to the ice.

Her heart plummeted—this pain was worse than any physical injury.

Gritting her teeth, she rose quickly, continuing with footwork to set up the next jump.

Yet it felt as if a different skater had taken her place—her once-fluid skating slowed, and her combination spin lost its usual beauty.

But the problems weren’t limited to lost artistry.

First came a fall on the triple Axel.

Then, perhaps shaken in spirit, she struggled with each subsequent jump, falling repeatedly. Still, she never gave up, skating with all her heart.

The audience was abruptly pulled from the artistic reverie her earlier program had woven.

The music remained beautiful, but the poor performance left the viewers unable to appreciate its artistry.

No one could understand what was happening to Shu Ran.

When the music ended, Shu Ran tilted her head back as if all strength had been drained from her body. Her arms hung limp, and after a moment, she gasped for breath. She could no longer hold back—tears streamed down her face as she collapsed onto the ice, wrapping her arms around her knees in anguish.

If, moments before, no one understood what was wrong with Shu Ran, now, seeing her ashen face, everyone finally realized.

Before anyone could react, a man vaulted over the barrier and hurried onto the rink, moving toward her.

“Shu Ran! Are you all right?”

But the girl in his arms was cold to the touch, even the sweat on her brow icy, her pain so intense it brought her to tears.

In a faint, trembling voice, she called, “Coach...”

Fu Yiqing felt his heart stop in that instant, piercing pain stabbing his chest.

Scooping Shu Ran into his arms, he called loudly, “Where is everyone?”—addressing Qin Liubei.

Qin Liubei had already summoned the medics the moment he saw what was happening, and as Fu Yiqing shouted, they arrived with a stretcher.

“Place her on it,” someone instructed.

Fu Yiqing quickly laid her on the stretcher and followed the medical team as they left the ice.