Chapter Ten: This Is the Truth

After lunch, Qin Liubei offered to drive Shuyutian and his wife to the airport. Shu Ran did not go with them—she didn’t even see them out the villa’s main gate.

Every few steps, the couple looked back at the second-floor window of the villa, where the curtains were tightly drawn.

Behind the narrow gap in the drapes, someone peeked out, watching their departing figures with tears brimming in her eyes and biting her lip to hold them back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see your parents off?”

The voice in the room belonged to Fu Yiqing—the last person Shu Ran wished to see at that moment.

She didn’t move, maintaining her posture by the window, still spying. When she realized her parents were nearly out of view, a taut string in her mind snapped. Her actions took over her thoughts, and she bolted from the room.

Fu Yiqing stepped forward and drew the curtains open.

Outside, mottled fallen leaves carpeted the courtyard in golden hues, and warm autumn sunlight spilled through the window, painting a cozy scene. In the middle of the path, a slender figure dashed forward, calling out—a sound that made the three up ahead pause and turn.

Shuyutian and Li Zhiqing shared a gratified expression, and after Shu Ran said something to them, they ruffled her hair. Then, the four of them left the harmonious tableau behind.

All this unfolded within Fu Yiqing’s view, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. Shaking his head, he muttered, “Still a child, after all.”

*

Shu Ran watched as her parents passed through security, and her tears finally fell.

Qin Liubei had faced all kinds of tough problems and data sets in his life. Proud as he was, he regarded everyone except himself and Fu Yiqing as ordinary people. When faced with setbacks, he and Fu Yiqing would only become more determined to overcome them. But when he saw Shu Ran crying, he was caught off guard.

“Little Shu Ran, why are you crying?” Qin Liubei reached out to wipe her tears, but ended up asking a passerby for a pack of tissues and handed them to Shu Ran, flustered and uneasy. “Don’t cry, or people will think I bullied you. How about this: next time, I’ll take you to City D to visit your parents, and I won’t let Fu Yiqing know. How’s that?”

But the mere mention of “Fu Yiqing” was like an incantation sealing her tear ducts—the moment he said the name, Shu Ran felt even more wronged, and her tears fell like scattered pearls, one after another.

On the way home, Shu Ran remained silent, leaning back in her seat and gazing out the window.

Qin Liubei glanced over at her from time to time, not daring to speak, for fear of making her cry again.

To Qin Liubei, comforting a girl was far harder than solving any problem. Thinking this, he almost wished to go back and compile a few more sets of databases, perhaps even prioritize building a “Why Girls Cry” database.

As soon as they entered the house, Shu Ran seemed to transform. She’d looked drained before, but the moment she crossed the threshold, she strode in with fierce energy. She stalked around downstairs, seething, and after learning from Aunt Zhang that Fu Yiqing hadn’t left, she marched upstairs to confront him.

The study door was half open, but Shu Ran still knocked before entering.

Fu Yiqing looked up to meet Shu Ran’s furious gaze, as if she wished to devour him in anger, but he wasn’t surprised.

“Why?” Shu Ran pressed her lips together. “Why won’t you let me go home for the New Year? Why did you lie to them and say it was my idea to stay for extra training?”

“Your performance is still unstable. Though I believe figure skating should primarily showcase artistic beauty, without technical mastery, you can’t display the full range of artistry. According to my plan, you must stabilize all your technical elements before the end of the year. Shu Ran, you don’t have much time left.”

“Is it my time that’s running out, or yours? Joining your team was never my choice. Championships, techniques, artistry—I only ever follow your plans passively. I’m just a puppet.”

Fu Yiqing looked up at her tearful, trembling voice, but her expression struck him mute.

Her emotions ran wild, chest heaving, her eyes full of angry, aggrieved tears.

Yet he quickly regained his composure. “That’s exactly what I said before. If you want to continue on this path, you need a firm goal and a reason to fight.”

Shu Ran suddenly recalled the day when Fu Yiqing had told her to think hard about why she persisted.

Perhaps, even then, he’d decided not to let her go home.

“This road is harder than you imagine. Every smile atop the podium is built on years of loneliness and pain from injuries. You’ve been skating for eleven years. You’ll never know if the rest you insist on now will become the regret that haunts your future failures. Truly, we don’t have much time.”

Fu Yiqing gave Shu Ran no chance to interject and added, “Of course, you can quit now. Your family is well-off—you could study abroad or go back to school and quickly return to a normal life. But you could do these things easily after you retire. This is a one-way process. Returning to a normal life is simple, but you’ll never be able to put on skates and perform on the ice again. Your parents finally started supporting your career—are you sure you want to throw away eleven years of effort and turn their hopes into disappointment, just for one New Year’s celebration?”

Every word was true, but each one cut to the heart.

Shu Ran wanted to retort, to shout out her frustration, but Fu Yiqing’s reasoning calmed her down, restoring her composure.

She dropped her head, tears streaming down.

“Fu Yiqing, you’re just too much!”

Outside the door, Qin Liubei had heard the entire exchange. Unable to hold back, he stepped in, pulling Shu Ran into his arms and comforting her with a pat on the back while glaring angrily at Fu Yiqing. “That’s a threat—a threat!”

“It’s not a threat. It’s the truth.”

“You could at least... soften your words a little. She’s just a child.”

“Most women’s singles skaters are still kids,” Fu Yiqing replied, unwilling to argue further. He continued, “Shu Ran, you’re not in the right state. Spend the afternoon watching the film I assigned you yesterday.”

Qin Liubei looked up in alarm. “At a time like this, you still want her to watch? Fu Yiqing, can’t you show some humanitarian spirit?”

Fu Yiqing frowned slightly. “The original plan was for on-ice training this afternoon.”

In other words, he was already being humane.

Qin Liubei could feel the girl in his arms shaking with sobs. Their time together had erased his earlier prejudices, and today’s events made him feel genuinely protective of Shu Ran.

“Don’t be afraid. Today, I’ll decide—you won’t have to train. Whatever you want to do, I’ll take you.”

Shu Ran slipped from his embrace. “No. I want to train.”

Her face was streaked with tears, but her eyes were clear and determined.

Qin Liubei was stunned. As Shu Ran left the study, he couldn’t help but sigh, “I came to help you, but Shu Ran’s resilience always moves me. She makes me waver in my stance. Tell me, how can you bear to be so harsh with her?”

Left alone in the study, Fu Yiqing’s mind conjured up the image of Shu Ran’s pale, tear-streaked, pitiful little face. Something in his heart felt out of place.

After a long while, he murmured to the empty room, “Be harsh now, and she’ll suffer less in the future.”

*

Shu Ran watched the movie and cried, unsure if it was the music’s melancholy or the story itself that tugged at her heartstrings. Time and again, she wiped away her tears, but her vision kept blurring.

Sometimes, a failed jump on the ice would leave her stunned for a moment, and as she gazed up at the rink’s ceiling, her nose would tingle with the urge to cry.

This went on until New Year’s Eve.

For most people, today was Lunar New Year’s Eve—a day for family reunions and festive dinners. But for Shu Ran, it was just another ordinary day.

Early in the morning, she finished her flexibility training on the yoga ball and then completed ten sets of physical conditioning.

Shu Ran didn’t allow herself a single second of rest.

Qin Liubei sighed from the sidelines. “This child is so stubborn—she reminds me of you in this regard.”

Fu Yiqing watched her performance with increasing concern. He glanced at his phone. “I have to go out for a bit. Keep an eye on her for me.”

“Where are you going?”

Fu Yiqing left nothing but his proud silhouette as an answer.

After finishing her land training, Shu Ran was drenched in sweat. Qin Liubei handed her a towel, preventing her from starting her next set of dance drills. “Take a break.”

Shu Ran took the towel, wiped her sweat, but stubbornly proceeded with the next round of training.

Qin Liubei had no choice but to keep watch.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Shu Ran moved to the music. It was a fast-paced song, so every move had to hit the beat as quickly as possible—otherwise, on the ice, the timing would be even tighter.

She imagined herself in skates, gliding across the ice, light and crisp in rhythm.

Salty sweat stung her eyes, burning.

Suddenly, her foot slipped and she fell.

She quickly sat up, wincing in pain, and looked up to see Qin Liubei’s helpless expression. “Didn’t I tell you? Proper rest is essential for recovery.”

He offered his hand, and Shu Ran placed hers in his palm, letting him help her to the yoga mat to rest.

“Where’s Coach Fu?”

“Why are you always asking about Coach Fu? He wouldn’t let you go home for the New Year—you can’t possibly not be mad at him?”

Shu Ran bit her lip hard and, after a long pause, nodded forcefully. “I’m very angry... but he’s right. I’ve come this far—it would be foolish to give up now.”

She looked up and saw the satisfaction on Qin Liubei’s face, which made her shiver involuntarily.

Then she heard him say, “Even if you don’t get to celebrate the New Year, I’ve prepared a surprise for you.” He leaned in, a mysterious smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, I did this behind Fu Yiqing’s back—he won’t find out.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll know soon enough. But you can’t tell him.”

Shu Ran had no idea what the surprise could be. Just as she was about to nod, someone spoke from behind.

“Unfortunately, I already know.”

Qin Liubei stiffened, turning awkwardly to see that Fu Yiqing had already returned. “Yiqing, you’re back. Shu Ran just fell—I helped her over to rest.”

Fu Yiqing nodded, glanced briefly at Shu Ran, and finally looked at Qin Liubei. “So, what exactly is the surprise? The kind that will get you in trouble now that I know?”