Chapter 87: Eligible to Fight?

Basic training was merely a preparation for resuming formal practice.

During the first week, Fu Yiqing only had Shu Ran stand on the ice again to practice gliding, while gradually adding some leg lifts and transitions in footwork. The second week was devoted solely to simple spins. Then, they began to reintroduce jump training.

However, the results were far from ideal.

Although Shu Ran’s foot had almost completely healed, this injury had taken a heavy toll on her training. Because she had been injured, she couldn’t attempt high-difficulty moves for an entire month. Yet if she lowered the difficulty to practice double or even single jumps in isolation, it would do her no good at this stage. The key to jumping lies in remembering the balance point. If she were to repeatedly train with simple jumps, her body would forget the sense of balance required for a triple jump, which could even have side effects.

So after just a single day of jump practice, Fu Yiqing decisively ended it, having Shu Ran immediately resume full training, accompanied by some basic physical conditioning and off-ice drills.

Given Shu Ran’s current state, August’s training was cautious and measured.

September arrived under a cloud of urgency and tension.

At first, she was exceedingly careful; only after several successful triple jumps without any issues did she finally resume formal training.

On her first day back, Qin Liubei even brought Xu Jingyu along.

Knowing that their daughter didn’t want them to witness her falls and hardships, the Shu couple thoughtfully refrained from watching her train.

Fu Yiqing and Qin Liubei continued with their usual roles during training. Shu Ran ran through her short program.

After a five-month hiatus, her abilities had indeed declined. Watching from the sidelines, Xu Jingyu’s brow furrowed with concern. She glanced anxiously at Fu Yiqing, only to see him wearing a relaxed, confident expression, as if everything was under control.

She found it strange. “Shu Ran has regressed so much. Aren’t you worried?”

Fu Yiqing withdrew his gaze from the ice. “I’m not. Even a world champion would regress after five months without training. Shu Ran is actually performing much better than I expected.”

Xu Jingyu pressed, “But the Olympic qualifier is in just twenty days.”

Fu Yiqing’s eyes grew thoughtful. “It’s always been a gamble,” he replied. Only now, the odds had shifted further against them.

He added, “Even world champions might not recover as quickly as she has.”

This was likely the effect of the mental simulation training Shu Ran had once described.

Xu Jingyu didn’t know this. Hearing his words, her gaze toward Shu Ran now carried a trace of admiration.

With Shu Ran’s condition improving, Xu Jingyu and the others finally felt at ease. They no longer hovered around her as they had during those five months, instead returning to their own work, while the Shu couple went back to D City.

As the Olympic qualifier approached, news of Shu Ran’s injury suddenly began circulating online.

The rumors claimed that her injury was severe, and that it would be very difficult for her to secure a Winter Olympics berth at this qualifying event.

Netizens immediately lashed out at the whistleblower for spreading baseless rumors.

Yet a few days later, an official statement confirmed that Shu Ran would do her utmost to perform at the Olympic qualifier.

Only then did the public begin to believe there was truth to the initial report.

A week before the competition, people were still worrying about whether Shu Ran could participate, even creating trending topics—“#No matter what, we don’t blame you#”.

Some netizens wondered who would represent the women’s singles if Shu Ran couldn’t compete.

It was clear: without Shu Ran, there might be no women’s singles competitor at next February’s Winter Olympics.

Thus, whether Shu Ran could take the ice became the burning question for countless skating fans.

Many people were directly affected by this uncertainty—Huo Guang among them.

His phone was ringing off the hook.

“Hello? Please stop asking me if I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on. Shu Ran’s coach refuses to tell me anything about her condition, and I can’t reach anyone on their team.”

After hanging up, Huo Guang rubbed his temples, then dialed another number.

A lazy, relaxed voice came through the receiver. “Is there something you need, Coach Huo?”

Is there something I need? He was so inundated with calls that he was hearing phantom rings, dreaming at night that people were asking him about Shu Ran’s condition.

Naturally, Huo Guang couldn’t use that tone with this person. “I’ve been getting nonstop calls about her situation these past few days.”

“Mm.”

“So, how is she doing right now?”

“In a week’s time, you’ll know.”

After hanging up, Huo Guang still felt uneasy.

It sounded as if Shu Ran was fine, but if that were truly the case, why was Fu Yiqing keeping even him in the dark?

It seemed there was nothing to do but wait another week.

This year’s Olympic qualifier was, once again, the Challenger Series’ Fog Horn Cup.

In the past, when people spoke of the Olympics, they only thought of the Summer Games, oblivious to the existence of the Winter Olympics, which led to a period of neglect for winter sports.

In recent years, thanks to the flourishing talents in pairs and men’s singles, the public finally turned their attention toward figure skating.

But the women’s singles and ice dance remained stagnant.

Shu Ran’s emergence finally gave fans hope for women’s singles, and her injury at last year’s World Championships brought her fame through adversity, fueling a surge of interest in figure skating.

This year’s Olympic qualifier was more closely watched than ever before.

Several well-known skating commentators went live online, ready to provide three days of figure skating coverage.

On the broadcast, the hosts were still explaining the rules for newcomers.

“First, the opening ceremony... Figure skating comprises four events, each held over three days. Day one is the short program, day two is the free skate—technically, the official competition ends on day two. The third day is a gala for the audience, not scored... For this Olympic qualifier, the order is: ice dance, men’s singles, women’s singles, then pairs...”

But the only question on viewers’ minds was—would Shu Ran compete?

Meanwhile, in the northeast corner of the arena, a man donned a wool hat, his face almost entirely hidden by his hat, scarf, and other accessories, eyes darting about.

Someone beside him tapped his arm. “Alright, stop looking. Soon enough we’ll know if Shu Ran is here. But if you keep drawing attention to yourself and someone recognizes you, you won’t get to enjoy her performance.”

The man scanning the crowd was Zhu Hongzhe.

Chen Lecheng’s words subdued his anxiety, and he settled onto his seat to await the athletes’ entrance.

The announcer finally began listing the competitors for each event.

Countries were called in alphabetical order. “C” was third in line.

Once the athletes from “B” countries had entered, everyone—both in the arena and watching the livestream—held their breath, eyes fixed on the entrance.

But the next delegation to enter was from Canada.

Anticipation stretched thin, patience nearly spent, when the announcer finally declared, “China!”

Fans from other countries were also scanning the entrance for Shu Ran.

After breaking the short program world record at the Grand Prix Series, Shu Ran had become a household name among skating fans worldwide.

A girl stood at the entrance. But as everyone focused their gaze, they realized the women’s singles representative for China was not the familiar figure they expected.

Shu Ran was not competing!

The arena was instantly abuzz.

Viewers online cried out in regret.

“Looks like her injury really was serious.”

Yet dark whispers also emerged: “Maybe she knew half a year ago she couldn’t compete, and only posted on social media to ride the wave of publicity and set herself up for a future in entertainment.”

Netizens split into two camps, arguing heatedly.

Zhu Hongzhe lost all desire to keep watching. He pulled a mask from his pocket, put it on, and stood up. “Let’s go.”

“Ah, it’d be nice to watch some of the others, too.”

Zhu Hongzhe paid no heed, frowning. “We should head back and train. The Winter Olympics are less than three months away. Stay if you want.”

With that, Chen Lecheng also lost interest and quickly followed.

They had just reached the aisle when a wave of cheers rolled over them like a tide.

It was a roar of celebration.

The arena, already vibrant and lively, was now filled with unbridled joy.

They could even faintly hear someone shouting a name in Chinese: Shu Ran.

Startled, the two turned around and finally saw the person they’d been waiting for.

Shu Ran let out a long sigh. Earlier, she’d been led by staff into the wrong team’s lineup, so the newcomer who was supposed to enter after her mistakenly thought it was her turn and took her place at the entrance.

By the time she realized “China” didn’t refer to her own country, the mix-up had already occurred.

Shu Ran switched places with the other skater and finally entered the arena.

Thunderous cheers erupted, and the familiar sound of her mother tongue filled Shu Ran with warmth.

She glided across the ice, weaving left and right, relishing the audience’s calls.

The cold wind brushed her cheeks, chilling her skin, but her blood ran hot.

Only on the ice did she feel her life had not been lived in vain.

Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes. Her smile widened as she skated to center ice and offered a deep bow to the crowd, whispering, “Thank you.”

Off the rink, Qin Liubei wore a faint, knowing smile. “After half a month of suspense, the secret is finally out. I imagine this news will stir up quite the storm back home.”

Fu Yiqing’s expression was unreadable.

Qin Liubei glanced sideways at him and continued, “Since Shu Ran can compete, people will assume her injury has healed. You kept up this suspense for so long—if she fails, public outrage will be fierce.”

“She will qualify for the Winter Olympics,” he replied calmly.

“So confident?”

He shook his head, smiling. “You’re mistaken. It’s not my confidence, but my faith in her. As long as nothing unforeseeable happens, she will make it to the Olympics.”

When Fu Yiqing spoke these words, his composure exuded not arrogance, but the quiet certainty of stating a fact.

Such was Fu Yiqing’s demeanor at the ISU.

Seeing him once again in control, the vice president of ISU, Qin Liubei couldn’t help but smile as well, his gaze settling serenely on the girl on the ice.

Bathed in a sea of applause, her eyes shone with brilliance.

After all she’d endured, she had grown so much—now she inspired even greater anticipation.

Qin Liubei casually asked, “By the way, how did the final week of training go?”

During that last week of recovery, Fu Yiqing had given Qin Liubei a new task.

So, apart from Shu Ran herself, only Fu Yiqing knew the final outcome of her training.

Fu Yiqing arched an eyebrow and glanced at his watch. “There are still two hours and fifty minutes until the women’s short program begins. You’ll see for yourself then.” His expression was enigmatic.