Chapter Seventy-Seven: A Bedtime Story

Everyone was worried about Shuran.

Even those who hadn’t watched the World Championships live had seen the video of Shuran collapsing after her performance. Everyone wanted to know how she was doing, and searches about her quickly shot to the top of trending topics, marked as “explosive.”

With the X-ray in hand, the team doctor examined it for a while. “As of now, it looks like there’s a fracture of the fifth metatarsal in the right foot. It can either be treated conservatively or with surgery. Conservative treatment leads to faster recovery, but there might be lingering issues. Surgery takes longer for recovery.”

He looked to Fu Yiqing, awaiting his decision.

Qin Liubei was anxious but forced himself to calm down and asked, “How long until she can resume training with conservative treatment? And with surgery?”

The doctor replied, “With conservative treatment, she should be able to walk normally in about two months. With surgery, it’ll take around three months.”

Seeing that Qin Liubei was about to make a decision, the doctor added, “But what I’m talking about is just the time to walk normally. After that, there needs to be at least another month where she can’t do any strenuous activity. Only after adequate rest can she gradually return to basic training, and then slowly ramp up the intensity.”

Qin Liubei’s gaze darkened. “So, with conservative treatment, it’ll be at least four months before she can resume training, and with surgery, at least five months?”

The doctor nodded. “That’s about right. If you’re going to opt for surgery, it’s best to do it back home. I’m not familiar with the medical standards here.”

When Fu Yiqing remained silent, Qin Liubei couldn’t help but call out, “Old Fu?”

Fu Yiqing glanced at Shuran, who lay on the hospital bed, her face twisted in pain, then said, “We’re going home.”

Going home meant that Fu Yiqing had chosen for Shuran to have surgery.

Qin Liubei said, “The recovery from surgery is so long. Will Shuran agree? Her overall score is 25th. The women’s singles team is wiped out.”

Shuran’s free skate performance had been disastrous. The news from those who stayed at the arena was that her placement was near the bottom. If not for her second-place finish in the short program yesterday, this would likely be her greatest stain in the past two years.

Not only had they failed to secure two quota spots for the national team, but they had also lost the Winter Olympics entry that was almost guaranteed.

This meant Shuran would have to compete in the Olympic qualifying tournament to regain her spot.

There were only six months left until the qualifiers.

If she had surgery, she’d have less than a month to train. At that point, she’d be coming off an injury and five months without training. No one could say for sure if she’d be able to win one of the six coveted tickets in the far more intense qualifying round.

Everyone fell silent.

“Home,” Fu Yiqing insisted. “Surgery.”

Qin Liubei said, “What if Shuran blames you?”

He paused mid-step as he approached Shuran, not turning back. “Let her blame me.”

Back home, a panel of experts was assembled almost immediately, and someone was dispatched to the airport, ready to take Shuran straight to surgery as soon as she landed.

The fastest flight would still take seven hours.

Night had already fallen. Fu Yiqing waited until just before takeoff to wheel Shuran onto the plane, hoping to avoid being disturbed by other passengers.

He lifted her into the window seat. With the flight attendant’s help, the wheelchair was stored away.

Shuran was awake, though her mind was not entirely clear. The pain, however, was sharp and distinct, etching a look of agony onto her pale face, which made Fu Yiqing’s heart ache just to look at her.

From the moment of the accident until now, Shuran hadn’t spoken a word.

At last, the plane took off.

Shuran leaned against the seat, unmoving, beads of cold sweat dotting her forehead from the pain.

He wiped the sweat from her brow, and she turned her eyes to him.

He clasped her hand, his own palm icy. “Try to sleep. If you fall asleep, it won’t hurt. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

Shuran obediently closed her eyes.

But the worse the pain, the harder it was to sleep. In the end, she wasn’t sure if she had passed out from the pain or truly fallen asleep, only that her breathing finally steadied, though her brow was tightly furrowed.

Fu Yiqing’s gaze grew tense. He stared at her without blinking, afraid she might slip into some danger.

She didn’t sleep long; the pain woke her again after two hours.

Her movements were small, but Fu Yiqing still noticed at once.

“How much longer?” Shuran asked softly.

Her voice was so faint that Fu Yiqing had to lean in and pause for a second to decipher her question. “Almost there. Try to get some more rest. I’ll wake you.”

“I can’t sleep,” Shuran said.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

Despite her answer, Fu Yiqing knew she must be in great pain; otherwise, she wouldn’t have woken or said she couldn’t sleep.

He breathed on her hands to warm them, then tucked both their hands under the blanket. “Just one more nap, and we’ll be there.”

Her dark eyes shimmered with a deer's gentle vulnerability. “I really can’t sleep.”

“Just try,” he said, his expression uncharacteristically gentle and full of pity.

Shuran tried to nod through the pain.

In truth, she still couldn’t sleep, but the hand holding hers was so warm. Rather than worry him further by staying awake, she decided to feign sleep.

Her brow knitted tighter with every wave of pain.

“Once upon a time, Mother Duck laid nine eggs,” Fu Yiqing began. “She suddenly discovered an extra egg in the nest, one that looked different from the others...”

Shuran opened her eyes, puzzled. “Coach?”

He glanced down at her. “It’s a bedtime story.”

She wanted to laugh, but the pain made it impossible. “But I’ve heard that one. Is it The Ugly Duckling?”

“It’s the only one I know.” He had to take out his phone. “What would you like to hear?”

She closed her eyes again. “The Ugly Duckling is fine.”

He continued, “All the other ducklings looked the same, but the ugly duckling was different, and everyone thought it was the ugliest...”

There was something almost endearing in him at that moment.

It was obviously his first time telling a story; his retelling was oddly blunt, the descriptions sharp. Normally, Shuran would have burst out laughing, but it was this earnestness that made her feel even warmer inside.

As she listened, her nose began to sting.

“Eventually, all the animals that once mocked the ugly duckling learned it was actually a swan, and they were ashamed of their laughter and scorn,” Fu Yiqing finished.

Shuran’s breathing was calm, as though she had fallen asleep.

But then, in the faintest whisper, she asked, “Do ugly ducklings really turn into swans?”

Her voice was tinged with doubt and self-questioning.

He immediately understood what she meant.

He squeezed her hand tighter, his voice gentle. “They do.”

A small smile tugged at her lips beneath the fringe of her hair, and she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

When the plane finally landed, Shuran was taken straight to the hospital.

Fu Yiqing kept vigil outside the operating room, glancing up every so often to see if the light had turned green.

The surgery had barely begun when Xu Jingyu rushed in, hurrying over and grabbing Qin Liubei’s arm. “What’s happening now?”

Qin Liubei shook his head. “It’s not looking good. Surgery recovery will take five months. Shuran might go crazy when she finds out.”

Xu Jingyu could only sigh again and again.

The waiting felt endless, but at last, the surgical light changed color.

Shuran was transferred to a regular ward.

Her world was a haze of gray. They had arrived in B City that morning, and she had gone straight into surgery. Only her foot was anesthetized.

She had been conscious throughout the entire procedure.

Now it was eight-thirty. The sky outside was overcast, and with the curtains drawn, the hospital room was even dimmer.

Staring at the white ceiling, she felt her mind drift away with the dazzling whiteness.

Everything from the night before was still vivid in her memory, and Shuran already knew the outcome.

Her free skate had nearly placed last.

The women’s singles team had been wiped out—a fact that could be seen as both good and bad.

Either way, there was no escaping the Olympic qualifiers in six months.

She heard the soft click of the door opening, orange-yellow light spilling in from the corridor.

Even from just an outline, Shuran recognized the figure. “Coach Fu?”

He paused, surprised she wasn’t asleep.

Fu Yiqing didn’t turn on the light, just walked to her bedside by the faint glow from the hallway, pulled over a chair, and sat down. Only after a few seconds did he speak. “Conservatively, it’ll be five months before you can train again.”

Shuran suddenly realized perhaps he kept the lights off so she wouldn’t see how heavy his heart was.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He was taken aback, not understanding why she apologized. “Getting hurt wasn’t your fault.”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled, “If I hadn’t insisted on competing, I wouldn’t be back in the hospital.”

“If you had another chance,” Fu Yiqing said, “would you still compete at the World Championships?”

The two sat in silence for a long while.

If given another chance, Shuran thought, she would probably still choose to compete.

Fu Yiqing seemed to understand, sighing helplessly. “It was just an accident. It’s already happened. Don’t worry; there’s still time to fix things.”

“Mm.”

Since things had come to this, Shuran didn’t want to waste any more time on sorrow.

“Is it really five months of rest?”

He nodded.

She let out a long sigh, gripping the edge of her blanket, feeling lost.

Seeing she was much stronger than he had expected, Fu Yiqing relaxed a bit, but a phone call interrupted his thoughts.

He glanced at Shuran as he answered. “Yes, you don’t need to worry. She’s fine. I understand how you feel.”

Although she couldn’t see his expression, Shuran could tell from the change in his tone that his mood had shifted ever so slightly.

Perhaps the person on the other end was angry with him; his voice sounded conciliatory.

Just as she was wondering who could make Fu Yiqing lower himself to offer comfort, he hung up.

Then he dropped a bombshell. “It was your parents. They’re very worried and on their way to B City.”

Shuran’s heart skipped a beat. “My parents… How did they know?”

He didn’t answer, but she remembered.

The World Championships had been broadcast live, and her parents knew how much this competition meant to her—they would never have missed it.

At that moment, true panic set in. “What should I do?”

Fu Yiqing almost wanted to laugh. “Finally scared?”

She pulled a long face and didn’t answer. She could already picture the commotion when her parents saw her foot in a cast, the way they’d beg her to quit. And if she refused, they might even try to force her to give up skating altogether.

He said, “We’ll deal with it when they get here. For now, you should sleep.”

She called him back. “Where are they now?”

“They’re still in D City. They’ll arrive in the afternoon.”

Hearing this, her anxiety only increased.

“No matter what they decide, it’s because they love you,” Fu Yiqing said. “Talk to them calmly. They’ll respect your choice.”

“I know,” she replied.

“Get some rest.”

“Mm. Good night, Coach.”