Chapter Fourteen: Fearless in Ignorance

There is a saying, “Ignorance is fearless,” and it described Shu Ran perfectly.

It wasn’t until she entered the rink and witnessed Zhi Yuan Yexiang’s performance that she truly realized the girl on the ice was not some ordinary twenty-two-year-old, but a star athlete who had stood atop countless podiums. Whether it was footwork, spins, or even the jumps Shu Ran excelled at, Zhi Yuan Yexiang executed them all with remarkable finesse.

Berrus, carrying desserts, paused to admire the figure gliding across the ice, an appreciative smile on his lips as he spoke—no doubt words of praise.

Qin Liubei translated, “Berrus said, ‘A skater this outstanding should have already claimed the Winter Olympics gold medal.’”

Shu Ran nodded in agreement. Even though Zhi Yuan Yexiang had won numerous championships, at last year’s Winter Olympics, everyone had expected her to seize the gold, but her performance fell short, and she ended up with only a bronze.

Fu Yiqing said, “Sometimes, competitions aren’t just about skill—luck and psychological factors are just as important.”

He seemed to be speaking directly to Shu Ran. Taking a deep breath, she went to change into her skates.

Berrus had already watched Shu Ran’s training videos and knew exactly where her abilities stood. He led her to a corner of the rink for one-on-one instruction. Shu Ran could feel a lingering gaze from the far side of the ice—it seemed Zhi Yuan Yexiang had noticed Berrus as well.

“We’re working on a short program today, inspired by Tolstoy’s ‘Resurrection.’ Have you read it?” Berrus asked.

Shu Ran shook her head, so Berrus offered a concise retelling of the novel. Shu Ran’s English was lacking, so Qin Liubei acted as her interpreter, though Berrus didn’t say much before commencing the lesson.

The short program lasted two minutes and forty seconds, give or take ten seconds. It didn’t demand high technical difficulty—just seven required elements—so for Shu Ran, learning the steps wasn’t a challenge. The real difficulty lay in the program’s performance.

“Resurrection” tells the story of the nobleman Nekhlyudov, who seduced and abandoned the maid Maslova in his youth. Years later, they meet again in court—Maslova is now a prisoner, and Nekhlyudov, a juror, feels deep remorse, believing her fate is the result of his youthful betrayal. He dedicates himself to clearing her name. Though Maslova is ultimately exiled, they each sacrifice their freedom for the other, finding their own form of resurrection.

Berrus performed his choreography once for Shu Ran, then repeated it, explaining as he skated. “Imagine yourself as Maslova. Unwed and with child, you’ve fallen into disgrace. Now you’re falsely accused, all because of this man. You hate him. You refuse to let him achieve easy redemption; you won’t accept his help, not even with your appeal. This part of the performance is vivid and intense…”

While Shu Ran hadn’t mastered all the dance moves, the steps and jumps were basic techniques; once she memorized the sequence, she could attempt it right away. Yet unfamiliarity with the music and the rapid early tempo made it hard for her to keep up. She hadn’t fully absorbed the story either, so her performance fell flat.

Berrus, however, was patient. “Follow my guidance for now. Once you have the moves down, you’ll need to add performance. Then, incorporate your own understanding of the story.”

Shu Ran nodded.

Berrus stepped off to get some water. From the corner of her eye, Shu Ran noticed Zhi Yuan Yexiang leave the rink as well. She walked up to Berrus and said something; both smiled, and Berrus gave her a hug.

“Shu Ran, don’t get distracted,” Fu Yiqing called from the sidelines.

Snapping back to focus, Shu Ran resumed her practice.

Fu Yiqing sighed and said to Qin Liubei, who was leaning on the barrier, “Zhi Yuan Yexiang really is putting pressure on her.”

Qin Liubei replied, “Don’t be so tense. They’re rivals—meeting was inevitable.”

“It shouldn’t have happened so soon. Not yet, at least.”

*

After a morning of practice, Shu Ran returned to the locker room to change. As she skated off, Zhi Yuan Yexiang arrived at the entrance. The two girls locked eyes and were both momentarily taken aback.

Zhi Yuan Yexiang smiled first—polite, yet distant, as if separated by a veil of ice mist.

Shu Ran remembered reading an article describing Zhi Yuan Yexiang as a cold beauty.

Zhi Yuan Yexiang even stepped aside for Shu Ran, who felt a bit flattered. With such poise, it was easy to respect her as a champion—unlike Liang Yue.

Watching Zhi Yuan Yexiang walk away toward the locker room, Qin Liubei exhaled deeply. “Shu Ran, your opponent is no ordinary person. You’ll have to work hard.”

Fu Yiqing said, “Zhi Yuan Yexiang is already twenty-two. In three years, she’ll be twenty-five. Even if she maintains her current form, she won’t be able to win the championship then.”

“Why?” Shu Ran asked.

Qin Liubei chuckled, nodding. “It’s true. Rivals are all improving, but she can only maintain. Ladies’ singles is a discipline with a very short career span.”

Once Shu Ran went to the locker room, Qin Liubei slung an arm over Fu Yiqing’s shoulder. “Hey, when did you get so good at comforting people? Saying Zhi Yuan Yexiang can’t win the title? She’s a favorite!”

Fu Yiqing’s expression didn’t change. “Zhi Yuan Yexiang’s strength is clear to all. The real threat is the unknown—like the junior skaters who haven’t moved up yet, or Kristina.”

Kristina performed well last season; her skills were about on par with Shu Ran’s, but after training with Quentin, she nearly qualified for the Grand Prix Final, took silver at the World Junior Championships, and placed sixth at Four Continents.

Qin Liubei mused, “So Zhi Yuan Yexiang really isn’t the biggest threat. Looks like I misjudged you.”

“Misjudged?” Fu Yiqing raised an eyebrow.

Qin Liubei realized his slip and covered it up with a laugh.

*

With the choreography for the short program complete, all that remained was for Shu Ran to master it before moving on to the free skate—a process that would take at least ten days or half a month.

Despite half a year of performance training, Shu Ran still couldn’t express the emotions Berrus described, let alone any nuanced shifts.

After a day of training, the four went to dinner.

The nearby restaurant catered specifically to athletes. While waiting for the food, Qin Liubei remarked, “I think Shu Ran’s biggest disadvantage is that she’s never been in love. That’s why she can’t portray the heroine’s complicated feelings of love and hate toward the hero.”

His gaze shifted between Shu Ran and Fu Yiqing. Suddenly, inspiration struck. “Old Fu, why not sacrifice your good looks for your student’s sake?”

Shu Ran took a sip of water and, startled, sprayed it all over Qin Liubei’s face.

“Sorry, sorry.” Shu Ran quickly handed him a napkin.

Dabbing his face, Qin Liubei continued to elaborate on his idea.

Fu Yiqing said, “Most figure skaters have never been in a relationship, yet their performances are still moving.”

“Don’t dismiss it. Everyone’s different. Besides, practice makes perfect. Why don’t you two give it a try?”

Shu Ran started coughing, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Just then, the food arrived. To shut Qin Liubei up, Shu Ran piled his plate with food.

Qin Liubei, eating contentedly, began to tease again. “So Shu Ran’s secret crush is me? Excellent taste.”

Shu Ran was speechless.

*

After the joke, Qin Liubei took Xu Jingyu back to the hotel, the two of them immediately resuming their banter as they left.

“Like you? You and Shu Ran have no chemistry. Fu Yiqing is much more reliable,” Xu Jingyu retorted.

Everyone seemed to be like this.

On the way back, Shu Ran sensed an odd tension. Although Fu Yiqing was usually quiet, today felt particularly awkward.

—Don’t mind him.

—They’re just joking.

Shu Ran considered how to break the silence, but decided against saying anything—any explanation would only make things worse.

At their rooms, Shu Ran swiped her key card when Fu Yiqing spoke. “Qin Liubei loves to joke. Don’t take it to heart.”

Hearing this, Shu Ran felt an inexplicable relief and nodded. “I was just about to say the same.”

“So come to my room. Let’s watch ‘Resurrection’ together.”

The smile froze on Shu Ran’s lips.

So even abroad, she couldn’t escape watching movies as homework?

Although she’d already heard Berrus summarize the plot, watching it herself was another matter. The film, from the Soviet era, was in black and white, its ancient footage transporting her to that time.

Torn between the man she once loved and the demon who abandoned her, the heroine both hated and was moved by him, eventually realizing her true feelings. In the end, she decided to let go of the past and not burden him further, choosing instead to marry Simon, a fellow exile.

The film ended.

Fu Yiqing saw her deep in thought, head bowed, and felt half reassured. “Do you have any thoughts?”

Shu Ran nodded. She hadn’t understood Maslova’s emotional journey earlier, but after watching the film, she felt she grasped it better.

“Tell me,” Fu Yiqing prompted.

Recalling the story, Shu Ran spoke softly, “At first, it’s hatred, then tricking the hero is revenge. After being moved, remembering the past—love. Returning to reality, still love.”

“Not quite,” Fu Yiqing said.

Shu Ran scratched her temple in confusion.

“You can’t interpret it like a book report. You have to inhabit the character. Don’t just describe her emotional arc—think about her profession, and express all the grievances from years of hardship and disgrace.”

Shu Ran pursed her lips, swallowing, her eyes full of uncertainty.

Fu Yiqing sighed. “Go think about how to convey what I just said. Tell me your answer in the morning. For now, go get some rest.”

She rose to leave but was called back at the door.

“Shu Ran,” Fu Yiqing said, “There’s no need for you to imitate what Berrus or I said. Let your own understanding guide you. Show us the Maslova you see.”