Chapter Seventeen: I've Never Used It

What one says and what one truly feels are often worlds apart. Despite her resolutions to train diligently, Shu Ran’s determination was quickly overtaken by worry when she heard that Zhu Xinhui had not yet left the emergency room. Fu Yiqing was not a patient man; after training that day, he gave Shu Ran a stern talking-to, and only then did she muster her spirits and throw herself back into practice.

The wind, sharp as a knife, sliced past her cheeks, making Shu Ran shrink her neck against the cold. Today, she was particularly sensitive to changes in temperature. Waves of sinking pain rolled up from her lower abdomen, pulling her whole body downward, her waist aching and her back sore. After only a short session in the morning, Shu Ran already felt she couldn’t keep up.

The familiar pain signaled her period. But according to her calendar, there were still ten days to go. Based on past experience, she guessed the intense training had thrown her hormones out of balance, causing her period to arrive early.

Pressing her hand to her stomach, Shu Ran decided to endure until the morning session was over before buying painkillers.

Fu Yiqing entered just in time to see Shu Ran attempt a triple spin. Her arms and legs moved listlessly, her actions soft and weak—she looked like someone ill. This state was not unfamiliar to Fu Yiqing; Shu Ran had been anxious about Zhu Xinhui two days prior, but today she seemed even worse.

He was angry.

Shu Ran noticed him and, seeing him beckon, switched her skates and glided to the edge of the rink. Before she could ask “What’s wrong?”, his dark expression silenced her.

“Do you know whose time you’re wasting right now? Do you know how many people are waiting to see your performance on the ice?” His questions shot at Shu Ran like arrows, and her hands hung awkwardly at her sides. The pain in her stomach intensified, growing clearer and sharper, transmitting its signals to her brain. She wanted to explain, but found it difficult to speak.

“I don’t know what you’re struggling with, but since you understand this is not just your battle, and you’ve agreed to join this experiment, you need to treat every training session seriously!”

Shu Ran pressed her lips together, feeling aggrieved, and nodded.

She went to the restroom and confirmed her period had indeed arrived early. On the first day, the flow wasn’t much, and after Fu Yiqing’s scolding, her stubbornness drove her back onto the cold ice.

But this time, the pain was fiercer, and every movement sharpened her awareness of it. Raising her arm slightly left her forehead slick with cold sweat.

Fu Yiqing, watching from the sidelines, noticed her increasingly sloppy movements, his brows knitted tightly, his gaze locked onto her. He missed the pallor of her face.

Her skating was slow, her strength lacking, and the poor ice conditions tripped her up—she fell hard to the ground. She clenched her fists, even the slightest movement brought discomfort, and the chill of the ice made her shiver violently.

She fell not far from the exit, and Fu Yiqing walked over. “Shu Ran, you—”

Their eyes met, and Fu Yiqing finally realized something was wrong. Looking down at the small figure curled up on the ice, sweat drenched her hair, her face pale as death, the words of reproach died on his lips.

Shu Ran looked up and saw the expression Fu Yiqing reserved for moments of anger. Overwhelmed by pain, she called out weakly, “Coach,” sounding very much like a plea for help.

Fu Yiqing’s face tightened; he immediately bent down, reached out his long arms, and carefully lifted her out of the rink.

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said.

“No need,” Shu Ran’s brows creased in pain, her voice barely audible. “Sometimes… it’s like this.”

Fu Yiqing saw her hand pressed to her abdomen and immediately understood the cause.

He carried Shu Ran straight back to the hotel. Along the way, many people glanced at them, some even whistled; Shu Ran, lost in pain, noticed but could not react.

“I can walk on my own,” she protested.

Fu Yiqing, his expression cold, retorted, “Would you rather crawl and waste my time?”

The mention of “time” made Shu Ran surrender, no longer insisting he put her down.

As they neared her room, Fu Yiqing told her to take out her key card.

Flustered by the pain, Shu Ran stammered, “My key card is still in the rink’s locker room.”

Fu Yiqing glanced down at her, and she avoided his eyes, embarrassed. Without stopping, he walked past her room and to his own door. “The key card’s in my breast pocket.”

Shu Ran paused, suddenly understanding what he meant—he wanted her to rest in his room.

Turning her head, she reached out her left hand. Though separated by fabric, the thin summer shirt made it feel like direct contact with his body. Her heart raced, and to avoid his notice, she withdrew her hand as soon as she found the card.

With a soft beep, Fu Yiqing twisted his wrist to unlock the door, barely bothering to close it behind him as he placed Shu Ran on the bed and covered her with a blanket.

Despite sweating, Shu Ran alternated between feeling hot and cold. Just as she reached to throw off the blanket, Fu Yiqing emerged from the bathroom with a towel. “I haven’t used it,” he said, handing it to her.

She wiped her sweat. He asked, “Still hurting?”

Shu Ran nodded, then shook her head.

After so much time together, Fu Yiqing understood her well—she was sensible, never wanting anyone to worry about her, but that only made those who cared for her more anxious.

“What should I do?” he asked.

Shu Ran didn’t understand at first, but seeing the concern in his eyes, she realized his meaning. “It’s nothing. If I bear it, it’ll pass.”

Her hair was soaked with sweat, and she looked as though she’d just been hauled from water, her voice weak as a whisper.

Fu Yiqing told her to get some sleep and left the room.

Only then did Shu Ran realize she’d forgotten to ask him to buy painkillers.

Sometimes sleep was the best relief. Shu Ran closed her eyes, trying to drift off, but pain stretched time unbearably long. Half-awake, she vaguely heard the door open and footsteps approach.

Returning to consciousness brought the pain back into sharp focus.

“Shu Ran, are you awake?”

Fu Yiqing’s voice was gentle, almost as if he were a different person.

She squinted in the dim light; for a moment, she felt as though she hadn’t seen him in ages. Lost in thought, Fu Yiqing helped her sit up. “The hotel doesn’t have brown sugar, only hot water. Drink some hot water and sleep again.”

Even after just a brief moment awake, sweat gathered on her brow. The hot water poured down her throat, warmth spreading through her body.

Seeing her drink, Fu Yiqing had her lie down again. “Rest for a bit.”

Shu Ran was surprised he knew that brown sugar water could help with period pain, but he wouldn’t know that once woken, it was impossible to fall back asleep. She stared, her brows tightly knit.

Fu Yiqing asked, “Why didn’t you say you felt unwell earlier?”

His tone carried a hint of reproach, but softened out of concern for her weakness.

“Because we don’t have much time.”

“That’s true,” Fu Yiqing’s gaze darkened, something unfathomable flickering within. “Shu Ran, you may have your complaints about me, but your health matters most. Don’t fight your own body just because you’re angry with me.”

Shu Ran was startled, realizing his words carried a trace of tit-for-tat irony. Heaven knew she was only telling the truth, without any sarcasm.

“Why haven’t I seen you in pain before? Should I take you to the hospital now?”

Shu Ran quickly shook her head. “I’m fine… I always plan ahead, and if I feel pain coming, I take painkillers early. Coach Fu, could you buy me some painkillers, or ask the front desk to unlock my room? I have some there and can just go back to my room.”

He looked skeptical. “You take painkillers every time?”

“Not always. The doctor said once a month is fine.”

Fu Yiqing nodded thoughtfully. “Stay lying down, I’ll get your medicine.”

“It’s on my nightstand.”

Soon, Fu Yiqing returned with ibuprofen. After taking the medicine, Shu Ran felt reassured, waiting for it to take effect.

She closed her eyes again, then sensed someone wiping her sweat—opening her eyes, she saw Fu Yiqing.

She reached for the towel, but he gently stopped her.

“Think of practicality before stubbornness. I share half the blame this time. If you feel unwell in the future, say so—don’t try to tough it out. Understood?”

Shu Ran stared at him, dazed.

Fu Yiqing’s movements were gentle; even as he wiped her sweat, his eyes didn’t miss her expression. Noticing that his actions correlated with the tension of her brows, he slowed down considerately.

After so much time together, Shu Ran was used to the strict, sharp-tongued Fu Yiqing, always watching him from afar on the ice, rarely observing his features up close.

His brows were thick, the corners of his eyes long and fine, his gaze deep as the sea. Now, his eyes were mostly shadowed, only a faint glimmer flickering within, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Unlike the aloofness of their first meeting, there was now a hint of warmth.

The towel moved from her neck to her forehead, and in that instant their eyes met, his hand paused.

In the quiet room, their heartbeats quickened to the soft rustle of the blanket.

Something unfamiliar grew silently in the space between them.

It was Fu Yiqing who first looked away, just as the phone rang.

He placed the towel within Shu Ran’s reach and walked to the window to answer the call.

As he turned away, Shu Ran realized she had lost her composure, bewitched by his beauty—she didn’t know whether her heat was physiological or psychological.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Fu Yiqing’s tone was lighter, and Shu Ran glanced at him, only to find him looking back, his eyes softened by good news from the other end of the line.

When the call ended, Fu Yiqing came over. “Your former coach is out of danger and moved to a regular ward.”

Shu Ran stood stunned for a moment, then joy brightened her weary face.

“That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

Fu Yiqing smiled faintly. “So you can train properly again tomorrow?”

“Mm.”

She realized Fu Yiqing’s smile was truly handsome, though he usually wore a cold expression.

“Coach Fu, you should smile more. You look really good when you do.”