Chapter 88: The Advance on Orolok (Part One)

This time, China was represented only in the women’s singles at the qualifying tournament.

Therefore, every Chinese spectator watching the event was undoubtedly there for Shu Ran. Jiang Wanru also competed, but her poor performance at the World Championships made her an unlikely contender in the even fiercer Olympic qualifiers.

The men’s singles and ice dance awarded the remaining six Olympic spots two hours later. Now, all eyes turned to the women’s singles.

There were thirty-three competitors in the women’s singles event. Although most of the top skaters had already secured Olympic berths at the World Championships and thus were absent from this tournament, the competition remained fierce.

According to the rules, the six skaters who ultimately claimed Olympic spots must come from countries that did not win Olympic qualification at the World Championships. So, even if skaters from countries already qualified for the Olympics participated and placed in the top six, they would not threaten the chances of others.

Thus, the entrants this time fell into four categories:

1. Young talents from figure skating powerhouses, on the verge of moving up to the senior ranks, sent to gain experience by countries that had already secured Olympic spots.
2. Once-renowned skaters whose positions at home had been overtaken by newcomers.
3. Some established skaters who had already qualified for the Olympics.
4. Skaters eliminated at the World Championships.

Shu Ran scanned the list of women’s singles competitors; almost all the names were unfamiliar. For this reason, Fu Yiqing hadn’t asked Qin Liubei to compile any statistics on the opposition—there simply wasn’t any data available.

Nevertheless, the situation wasn’t too dire for Shu Ran. Thanks to her points, she was seeded into the final group.

When the group’s skating order was drawn, Shu Ran received number 32, making her the penultimate skater of the entire event.

In her group were Canadian skater Chen Xiaolu and Japanese skater Nakayama Sachiko. Both veterans, neither had participated in the last World Championships. They were here to compete for their national Olympic spots.

The gold, silver, and bronze medalists at this year’s World Championships were Samantha, Kihara Yoko, and Nadilova—representing Russia, Japan, and Russia respectively. Although Canada’s two skaters did not make it into the top three, their combined points didn’t exceed thirteen, meaning Russia, Japan, and Canada each secured three Olympic spots; the rest of the top ten countries received two spots apiece.

Russia’s women’s singles team, already brimming with talent, would certainly send Samantha and Nadilova; that left only one Olympic spot open for the rest of their team—a spot to be fought for by proving oneself in competition.

Japan’s internal competition was even fiercer. Kihara Yoko, Miyake Miharu, and rising star Jo Shin Reina all performed impressively at the World Championships. Nakayama Sachiko would need to finish in the top three here to prove herself worthy of shining at the Olympics.

Shu Ran was exceptionally nervous.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. Your injury has healed. As long as you believe in yourself, making the Olympic team won’t be too difficult for you.”

The sudden voice startled Shu Ran, making her look up. She gazed at Fu Yiqing for a long moment. At last, the tight line of her lips softened into a faint smile, and she nodded.

The short program began at last—a battle without gunfire, about to erupt.

Shu Ran was still backstage, performing her final preparations, unaware of how the earlier skaters had fared. The only other Chinese competitor was Wu Huihui.

Wu Huihui drew the fourth spot in the second group.

Time ticked by. Shu Ran listened to her music as she trained on land, arms forming circles, repeatedly practicing her jumps on solid ground.

As long as she didn’t get hurt!

Above all, she prayed—let her stay uninjured.

As her group’s turn approached, Shu Ran finally allowed herself a glance at the live rankings on the big screen. Yet she kept her head down, chest heaving with deep breaths, forcing herself to appear calm.

Now it was the six-minute warm-up before the fifth group. The minutes passed quickly, and soon the group’s competition began.

Though mostly comprised of new faces, the fifth group was not to be underestimated. The first skater, Australia’s Emily, performed her short program to music from the French film “Forbidden Games.” Her opening triple loop landed unsteadily, her free leg touching down early to maintain balance. Next came a triple toe loop–triple toe loop combination, but the second jump was under-rotated. Fortunately, all three spins received level four, and her step sequence was rated level three.

Next up was Lucchesse from the United States. She gave a fine performance; her opening double Axel earned a positive GOE of 2.08, followed by a level-four flying camel spin and a level-three circular step. Her skating was fluid, with impressive speed and knee control through transitions.

By now, Shu Ran recognized Lucchesse’s technical prowess. In the second half of her program, Lucchesse seemed almost superhuman, placing three solo jumps and a combination in the back end to capitalize on the 10% bonus.

Lucchesse’s technical score was 34.58, program components 31.23, for a total short program score of 65.81—outpacing second-place Emily by ten points.

Shu Ran stopped focusing on others, striving to calm her mind.

Soon, it was time for skater number 31.

Chen Xiaolu chose Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake.” Since her marriage and pregnancy, her place on the Canadian team had been usurped by teammates. After a hard-won comeback this year, she had made frequent mistakes at the World Championships. Clearly, today her form was excellent; every gesture exuded elegance tinged with sorrow.

Suddenly, Shu Ran realized Chen Xiaolu possessed extraordinary artistry.

Sure enough, Chen Xiaolu ended up with 28.10 technical points and 33.68 in program components, for a total of 61.78—third place overall, with the highest component score so far.

It was easy to imagine that, had Chen Xiaolu regained her former technical level, Lucchesse’s first place would be in jeopardy.

The announcer called, “Next on the ice is Shu Ran, representing China.”

Upon hearing this, Shu Ran glanced at Fu Yiqing one last time. His gaze was gentle, just as it had been when she first broke the short program world record: warm, devoid of sternness, as if this competition were merely practice.

Their eye contact lasted only half a second before Shu Ran turned away, skating resolutely to the center of the rink.

The announcer continued, “Her program is drawn from the film ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.’”

At that, everyone realized Shu Ran hadn’t choreographed a new program during her off-season—an implicit admission that she’d spent her break recovering from injury, unable to train new routines.

Yet as her arms moved in harmony with the music, the audience sensed change.

At the World Championships, Shu Ran had softened all martial arts moves into dance due to her injury. Today, her movements were neither pure dance nor pure martial arts, but a seamless fusion of both.

Dance steps showcased the flexibility of a women’s singles skater, while Shu Ran’s piercing gaze and sword-like hand gestures highlighted her cool, heroic aura.

But the transformation in this short program went beyond the blend of strength and grace—the choreography had grown far more complex.

Sword-dance movements flowed into deep laybacks and intricate circular steps interwoven with spins, each element executed flawlessly.

Amid the audience’s awe, Shu Ran transitioned into a Mohawk, preparing for a Bauer.

She leaped.

Shu Ran raised her arm high—the sword unsheathed, the archer’s bow drawn.

Her triple loop landed cleanly!

A collective sigh of relief swept the arena, bursting into wild applause and cheers.

The crowd’s passion was contagious, and Shu Ran felt it.

She skated with growing joy, spinning with revolutions far beyond the required minimum.

Suddenly, she recalled the first time she met Fu Yiqing. Back then, she’d wanted to quit the team, but he had taken her to a shopping mall rink, where she first felt the love of an audience—blood boiling in exhilaration.

That moment had anchored her resolve to keep skating.

During the sit spin, Shu Ran slowly rose, changing positions as the music’s rhythm accelerated, until the final note faded and her performance ended.

She held her finishing pose, hand slashing across her neck, arm raised, chest heaving with deep breaths.

At last, as the waves of applause washed over her, she lowered her arm, the icy determination melting from her face, replaced by a brilliant smile.

She opened her arms, as if embracing the entire arena.

She bowed deeply to the audience on all sides.

Skating off the ice, she met the eyes of the one who gave her endless strength.

Fu Yiqing’s expression was gentle. He said nothing, just opened his arms and embraced her.

For Shu Ran, her short program score was all but certain, so she finally had the courage to check the current rankings.

The announcer read out her results: “Shu Ran’s technical score: 34.20. Program components: 34.40. Final short program score: 68.61.”

She was in provisional second place, behind the American Lucchesse.

By Shu Ran’s previous standards, this was not a stellar score—perhaps even low—but after more than half a year of fear and uncertainty, it was an anchor for her heart.

Emotion welled up inside her; she nearly broke down, but forced back the urge to cry.

She threw her arms around Fu Yiqing in an exuberant hug, then turned to the camera: “Thank you, everyone!”

The final skater was Japan’s Nakayama Sachiko, who chose Chopin’s “Nocturne.” The gentle melody gradually calmed the audience, still stirred by the rapid-fire rhythms of “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.”

Nakayama Sachiko was graceful and delicate—this style played to all her strengths. Her movements and expressions were flawless, her depth of edge in step sequences impressive, her jump and free leg heights excellent. Her flexibility in layback spins earned her a level four, and her step sequence was rated level three.

The first day of women’s singles short programs concluded with the “Nocturne.”

In the end, Nakayama Sachiko claimed first place in the short program with her signature style, Lucchesse of the United States was second, and Shu Ran, representing China, was third.