Chapter Twelve: A Child’s Innocence

With a loud bang, a burst of colorful fireworks blossomed above their heads, lighting up the entire mountaintop. Shu Ran, startled, gave a sudden shiver. Though the moment was solemn, she was so frightened that Fu Yiqing found it amusing and let out a quiet laugh. Shu Ran, hearing his laughter, looked at him as if she’d seen a ghost, completely baffled as to why he was laughing.

Outside, the fireworks showed no sign of ending, charging skyward as if driven by their very destiny. The instant they reached their zenith, they burst into splendid and intricate shapes. With each flare’s retreat, its mission ended, yet countless others waited in eager anticipation. Their sky remained ablaze, radiant as daylight, shimmering with fantastical hues.

Around them, the world was lively and bright. Not far off, couples on the adjacent summit hugged one another, excitedly discussing the romantic spectacle of the fireworks festival. Shu Ran leaned against the window, gazing outside in wonder. “I never thought B City really held a fireworks festival, and it’s so grand,” she marveled.

Fu Yiqing looked at her in surprise. “You didn’t know?”

“I only came to B City when I was thirteen. I go home every year for the New Year, so it’s normal I didn’t know.” She paused, turning to Fu Yiqing. “How did you know about it?”

“I lived in B City until I went abroad.”

Shu Ran nodded and continued admiring the fireworks, though the view from within the car was limited. Unable to see the full display, she simply opened the car door. “Can I get out and watch?”

“You’ve already opened the door—why ask me?” His words meant he had no objection.

With a bright smile, Shu Ran closed the door behind her and, with a spring in her step, ran up to the mountaintop. Even her silhouette radiated joy.

On the mountaintop stood a viewing platform, spacious enough that the crowd didn’t seem overwhelming. Shu Ran slipped into a gap among the spectators and looked up. The view of the fireworks here was perfect. She waved to Fu Yiqing, who had fallen a few steps behind.

The fireworks flickered, illuminating the girl’s face in flashes of light and shadow. Her smile was unguarded and genuine. It was the first time Fu Yiqing saw Shu Ran laugh so freely in his presence, her obedient mask discarded, her gaze clear and pure—as if nothing unpleasant had ever transpired between them.

A child’s heart, he thought. The phrase echoed in his mind, and he realized she probably wouldn’t take his words tonight to heart.

The brilliance above lasted unbroken. Gradually, Shu Ran’s sense of wonder faded; she hunched her shoulders and blew into her cupped hands for warmth.

“Put this on,” Fu Yiqing said, holding out a down jacket—judging by its size and style, clearly his own. The temperature on the mountaintop was frigid, and Shu Ran didn’t want to deprive him of his warmth. “Coach Fu, I think I’m not that cold,” she protested.

But Fu Yiqing, without a word, draped the jacket over her. It nearly reached her calves due to her height. He crouched down to zip it up for her. “Even if you’re not cold, you’re not allowed to take it off.”

Shu Ran stared at him in a daze until he noticed her gaze and cleared his throat. “If you’re not going to watch the fireworks, go back to the car,” he said.

She shook her head vigorously and tilted her head back to watch the sky.

As she quieted, Shu Ran became acutely aware of her wildly beating heart. She swallowed, blaming it on her earlier dash uphill.

The fireworks lasted about half an hour before fading away. The viewing platform, once enveloped in the roar and brilliance, now felt somewhat desolate. A cold wind swept through, heightening the sense of emptiness. The earlier gaiety seemed nothing more than an illusion.

As the fireworks faded, so did Shu Ran’s exuberance. She slipped her obedient mask back on and walked back in silence. Just as they neared the car, she suddenly said, “I really love figure skating.”

Her sudden words made them both stop.

“I love it so very much. I’ve kept at it all this time, even without any achievements, always striving just so I could keep skating.”

Fu Yiqing gazed at her, momentarily stunned.

“I’m so grateful I didn’t quit that time,” Shu Ran went on. “That’s my answer.”

Suddenly, Fu Yiqing recalled how, half a month ago, he’d asked her to reflect on what kept her going in figure skating. So her answer was: she was glad she could still skate.

But that wasn’t the answer Fu Yiqing wanted. Liking something is a powerful motivation, but no one knows how long such passion can last.

He wanted to say more, but saw the clarity in her eyes—a glint of light from the streetlamp reflected in her pupils. It was a love for figure skating that shone from her very core.

“Mm,” he murmured.

Once back in the car, Shu Ran fastened her seatbelt and asked, “Do you know why I started figure skating in the first place?”

Without thinking, Fu Yiqing replied, “You saw a skater perform and thought it was amazing?”

“How did you know?”

He smiled softly and shook his head. “Children.”

“I saw how amazing they were and wanted to try. From grading exams to competitions, I always dreamed of standing on the rink and earning the audience’s applause.” Her eyes held a longing, but there was something else beneath it. “So, Coach, I’m not mad at you. I just feel I have no idea what your plan for me is these next three years. You didn’t sign me up for this season, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have the chance to stand atop the podium. Training blindly like this makes me…” Her eyes darted away as she looked down. “I’m really scared.”

After a long silence, the distant rumble of a car engine broke the stillness.

“All right, I understand,” Fu Yiqing said, glancing at his watch before stepping out. “Wait here.”

He went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. The lid blocked Shu Ran’s view, and he didn’t return for some time. Curious, she undid her seatbelt and walked over, only to find Fu Yiqing struggling to light some candles with a lighter—the wind kept blowing them out as soon as they caught.

“Coach Fu, you—”

At last, the candles shaped as “18” flickered to life. With his usual cold expression, Fu Yiqing presented the cake to her. “Shu Ran, happy birthday.”

Shu Ran stood there, dumbfounded, staring at him and at the cake. “Eh?”

“I know how hard you’ve been training. I’d planned to take you out for a nice meal, but plans changed and there were no free tables. So… but at least, for the next three years, I’ll still have the chance to celebrate your birthday.”

There was a trace of sadness in his voice.

“This is already the most special birthday I’ve ever had… Thank you.”

Fu Yiqing’s gaze remained fixed on the flickering candles, his brow furrowed with worry. “Make a wish,” he urged.

Shu Ran closed her eyes. The wind whispered past her ears as she made her wish silently:

—May we both get what we desire three years from now.

The cake was a little misshapen, the candles sputtered and died, the mountaintop wind was bitterly cold, and yet her heart was warm.

Shu Ran suddenly realized that, despite Fu Yiqing’s usual stern demeanor, he was no different from other coaches she had known. The fears of an uncertain future dissipated like the fireworks in the sky.

*

As they neared the villa, Fu Yiqing asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to know what I’ve planned for you these next three years?”

Shu Ran shook her head, a contented smile blooming on her lips. “I trust you.”

It was a simple, unaffected display of trust, yet Fu Yiqing felt strangely unsettled by it. He suppressed the odd feeling in his chest, telling himself only a child could be won over so easily—a fireworks show and a cake, and she trusted him completely.

Shu Ran’s stomach was empty, her hand pressed lightly against it. “It’s such a pity, though. I didn’t get to eat any of my birthday cake.”

Earlier, she had wanted to eat it, but Fu Yiqing’s glance made her withdraw her hand. He had meant to throw the cake away, but she thought that was a waste, so she gave it to a passerby.

“You did eat cake,” he pointed out.

Shu Ran pouted. “That was the New Year’s cake. The one just now was my birthday cake.”

Fu Yiqing frowned, doubtful. “What’s the difference? Isn’t it all cake?”

“It’s not the same—the meaning is different, so the feeling is different.”

Even after getting out of the car, she was still mulling over this. Fu Yiqing shot her a cold glance. “Shu Ran, did I give you the wrong impression tonight—that I’m easy to talk to?”

She immediately straightened and lowered her head obediently. “Sorry, Coach. I was wrong.”

Satisfied, Fu Yiqing strode toward the villa. Shu Ran watched his back and shook her head helplessly.

He was obviously a good person, so why did he always pretend to be stern and unapproachable? Since he insisted on wearing his mask, she would wear hers as well.

It was nearly midnight. Though it was New Year’s Eve, it felt no different from any other night. Shu Ran’s sense of smell was especially keen—she caught the rich aroma of barbecue as soon as she entered the house.

Fu Yiqing watched Shu Ran sniff the air like a hound and follow the scent into the kitchen. There, the countertop was littered with scales, measuring cylinders, and beakers—it looked more like a laboratory than a kitchen.

Only then did he realize, in the rush to find a restaurant earlier, he had forgotten about Shu Ran’s dinner. Assuming the amateur cooking was her doing, he asked, “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“I just grabbed something. After a whole night of training, I’m starving now.”

He couldn’t say no to her. She was already at the table with her bowl, and since he was hungry too, he brought over the last bowl of noodles.

Perhaps because she was famished, Shu Ran ate quickly.

“Weigh yourself tomorrow morning. If you’ve gained half a kilo, that’s an extra hour of training,” Fu Yiqing warned.

Wiping her mouth, Shu Ran looked as if she’d been struck by lightning. Swallowing hard, she ventured, “Is it too late to go and throw up now?”

He replied with a cold, indifferent look.

Shu Ran had no choice but to accept her fate.

Not long after they returned to their rooms, a sudden, sharp scream echoed from downstairs—it was a man’s voice.

Shu Ran was so startled she didn’t dare open her door. Then came a knock.

Fu Yiqing’s voice sounded from outside: “I’ll go check downstairs.”

A few minutes later, he returned and reassured her, “Don’t worry. It was Qin Liubei.”