Chapter 79: Nothing But Skating

The television in the hospital room was playing the latest variety show, and the father and daughter, after a long time apart, were enjoying breakfast together as they watched.

“This is delicious, Dad, you should try it.” Shu Ran pushed the bowl of tofu pudding toward him.

Shu Yutian sniffed it, frowned, and took a tentative sip, his brow furrowing even deeper.

Ran asked, “Dad, did you come here alone? What about work?”

“Who said I came alone? Your mother’s here too,” he replied offhandedly.

“Where is she then?” she asked.

“She didn’t sleep a wink last night. Your coach took her to get some rest. She’ll come see you when she wakes up.”

Ran’s face grew anxious. She quickly set down her spoon and pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Dad, can I ask you something? If Mom still won’t let me skate, could you please help persuade her?”

Shu Yutian scooped up a spoonful of porridge but didn’t bring it to his mouth for a long time. When he finally looked up, his expression was no longer as relaxed as before. “Ranran, this time your mother and I came together because we want to take you home.”

To take her home—clearly, they wanted her to quit the team.

Ran pretended not to understand. “Dad, you can see my condition. I can hardly move.” She couldn’t go back. Not like this. If she returned to City D now, her parents would do everything in their power to make her give up her dream of figure skating.

“Ranran, your mother and I…,” Shu Yutian hesitated, then continued, “We want you to leave the team. It’s for your own good. You’re still young. You were lucky to recover this time, but if you keep skating, what if something happens again? What will you do then?”

Ran stayed silent. The breakfast still steamed, its fragrance filling the air, but she no longer had any appetite.

Shu Yutian persisted, “At the very least, you should think about your mother and me. Last night, we watched the live broadcast on TV. When we saw you fall, we were so worried. Your mother—” He stopped, a lump in his throat.

Such a strong person, yet for a moment, even his voice quivered.

Ran had never seen her father look like this. At least, not in any memory she could recall.

Shu Yutian took a deep breath and regained his composure. “The World Championships are over. Next year is the Winter Olympics. You’re already twenty. Do you really want to wait another four years for the next Winter Olympics?”

She shook her head, explaining, “No, Dad, there’s still the Olympic qualifying tournament. I have to compete in the Winter Olympics next year.”

He looked surprised—he clearly hadn’t known about the qualifying tournament, but he quickly grasped the critical issue. “When is the qualifying tournament?”

She fell silent.

Six months from now.

She couldn’t say it. Full recovery would take five months, and then she’d have to jump right back into training. Clearly, her father would never agree.

Even without her answer, he could guess. The qualifying tournament had to be before the Olympics, and the Winter Games were only eleven months away. In his eyes, resuming training after recovery was simply hastening the decline of her injured leg.

“Whatever’s happened is in the past. From now on—” Shu Yutian’s tone was resolute. “We don’t want to worry about you every day. I’ll arrange for you to enroll in a high school, and hire tutors to help you catch up. You can take the college entrance exams, go to university. If you don’t like domestic universities, I can send you abroad. Wherever you want to study, just tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

Still, Ran kept her head down and didn’t respond. Shu Yutian leaned closer, searching her face. “Well?”

“I don’t want to study abroad.”

He let out a breath of relief. “Then you don’t have to.”

“I just want to skate.”

His brow, which had just relaxed, knitted again, and his gentle expression turned dark.

He stood up, frustration in his voice. “No matter what you say, we’re not going to let you be so stubborn anymore. Your mother will be here soon. I’m going to get her.”

“Dad—” Ran’s tone was almost pleading, but Shu Yutian only paused for a heartbeat before stepping out the door without another word.

She was alone again in the hospital room. The laughter from the TV show guests now sounded bitterly ironic.

They soon returned, and with them came Fu Yiqing.

Shao Anhong pulled out all kinds of fruit and snacks from shopping bags, and even a few children’s toys. “Ranran, if you get bored lying in bed, you can play with these—puzzles, books…”

There were four people in the room. One lay in bed, turned away from the others. Of the three standing, only Shao Anhong remained enthusiastic, describing the uses of everything she’d bought. She chattered on, as if not wanting to give anyone else a chance to speak, as if she were avoiding something.

Sensing the tension, Fu Yiqing quietly moved to the corner, leaning against the wall, trying to make himself invisible and not get involved in this family matter.

“Figure skating.”

Ran’s voice from the bed was low, but carried clearly.

Shao Anhong smiled. “Painting? Sure, would you like to try traditional Chinese painting, watercolor, or something else? I don’t know much about that, but if you’re interested, your father can find you a teacher.”

“I like skating.” Ran turned her head. “Mom, Dad, that’s all I love—just skating.”

“Oh, child. How can you know that’s all you love if you haven’t tried other hobbies?” Shao Anhong scolded gently, though there was love in her tone. “When we go home, you can learn whatever you like.”

“Maybe I’ll find other interests, but skating is different. Mom, I know you and Dad came to make me retire, but I’m really fine. I won’t risk my leg—I’ll only start training when I’m healed, I promise.”

Shao Anhong stopped unpacking, let her arms fall, and sat down.

Both parents grew silent.

“I know you’re worried I’ll end up lame. But if I give up now, I really can’t accept it. Not at all.” Her eyes reddened, emotion thick in her voice.

She’d trained for fourteen years. This was more than a hobby.

Fourteen years—how many times does one get fourteen years in a lifetime?

She’d come so far. How could she just give up now?

“Mom, Dad, please, I’ve never begged you for anything before, but just this once, I hope you can understand how I feel.”

Silence stretched on.

Shu Yutian looked at his wife’s back, then at the tears brimming in his daughter’s eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to say another word of protest.

Either choice, yes or no, was for their daughter’s good. The decision was too hard.

“Then let me beg you for something too,” Shao Anhong’s voice, choked with tears, broke the silence, though she kept her head down. “Give it up, for your father’s and my sake. Can you think of us for once?”

Fu Yiqing slipped quietly from the room. As an outsider, this was not a matter he should interfere with. But whatever Ran decided, he would respect it, and help however he could in his own field.

Shao Anhong could no longer keep her composure. “Do you know what it feels like to see you fall and be carried away on TV, and be utterly powerless? We don’t care about riches or fame, all we want is for you to be healthy and safe. Do anything, just not skating.”

Mother and daughter’s gazes met, and four streams of tears ran down their cheeks.

Hearing her mother’s heartfelt plea for the first time, Ran nearly caved, but she gritted her teeth and turned her face away, refusing to look at them.

“Whatever happens, whether I retire or not is my choice. I’m an adult now, I can take responsibility for myself.” Her tone was unwavering.

Shu Yutian had expected this. “Let’s go. Give her some time to think.” He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and led her out of the room.

When the door closed, Ran could no longer hold back. Hot tears streamed down her face.

Even her dearest family refused to support her dream. It felt like losing her anchor, like a stone pressed on her heart.

The sound of a tissue being pulled from the box startled Ran. She thought her parents had come back, so she hurriedly wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

A tissue was handed to her from the other side, gently wiping her tears away.

Ran took the tissue and tried to stem her tears, but they kept coming, her shoulders shaking despite her efforts to stop.

A hand patted her back, as if soothing not just the pain in her body, but in her heart as well.

She kept her face turned away, afraid her father would see her tear-streaked face, or that she’d see the pain in his eyes.

At last, the sense of grievance faded, and she forced herself to sound firm. “I won’t retire.”

“Alright.”

That voice—

She whirled around and saw Fu Yiqing sitting on the edge of her bed, holding out tissues to her.

She was momentarily dazed.

Perhaps it was because Fu Yiqing said nothing, or perhaps his gaze was simply too gentle.

The grievance that had just subsided surged up again, like a tide washing over the shore.

Her nose stung, her eyes grew misty with tears.

Fu Yiqing stayed silent, stopped handing her tissues, and simply reached out to wipe her tears himself.

He was suddenly reminded of a line from a film: The stronger a person is, the less likely they are to cry; but once they do, it means the person before them is the one who touches their softest heart.

From silent tears to uncontrollable sobbing.

No one knew how long she cried, but eventually the tears stopped.

Ran glanced at Fu Yiqing, as if regretting her loss of composure. “Was I really that ugly when I cried just now?”

He smiled softly and shook his head.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, never mentioning her quarrel with her parents.

She didn’t want to talk about it either, and his tact warmed her. She shook her head, “I’ve already eaten.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s past five. How about a nap?”

“Again?” she asked.

He chuckled at her reaction, the corners of his lips lifting. “Shall I tell you a story?”

She tucked her hands under the covers, ready to sleep. “What story this time?”

“Confucius’ ‘To know it is impossible, yet still strive for it.’”

She raised her brows, her eyes dancing with a hint of a smile. “You’re really getting cryptic these days, aren’t you?”

He smiled faintly, neither admitting nor denying it.

She sighed. “If my parents don’t agree, what should I do?”

“They’ll come around,” he said with quiet confidence, as if he’d already persuaded them.

She exhaled slowly, saying nothing more, then closed her eyes. “Tell me the story now.”