Chapter Twenty-Two: Good Luck

Shuran’s gaze startled Liang Yue outside the rink; just a single look unsettled her, making her feel as though Shuran had become someone else entirely. Liang Yue tried to maintain composure, reminding herself inwardly: she knew exactly what kind of person Shuran was—hopeless, incapable of improvement. No matter how much her skills advanced, there was no way she could surpass Liang Yue. It was nothing more than a desperate struggle.

The announcer’s voice echoed: “Next performance: ‘Resurrection’.”

As the music began, everyone was struck by Shuran’s gaze; her movements flowed like water, her emotions precisely controlled. In that moment, all understood that the free, graceful figure on the ice could no longer be compared to the Shuran of the past.

When the music stopped, Maslova looked back wistfully, reaching out before turning away, unable to look again for fear that another glance at her beloved would bring deeper pain.

As Shuran embodied Maslova’s resurrection, it seemed as though the performer herself was reborn.

Head coach Huo Guang and technical advisor He Ming, who had not expected much from Shuran, now saw hope and joy ignite in their eyes, their ardent gazes fixed on her figure.

Liang Yue felt as though she’d been slapped; the skaters who followed performed decently, but none matched Shuran’s display. Liang Yue herself, the final performer, was even less impressive, finishing third in the team trials, with Jiang Wanru taking second.

Shuran’s first-place finish stunned not only the women’s singles group but the entire national team when word spread. Yet, despite the surprise, most believed Shuran’s performance was likely a matter of luck.

Dark horses often appear in international competitions, proof enough that chance plays a large role—what more so in a team trial? Shuran had only participated in one, so her overall strength would be revealed in the next event: the Lombardy Cup in early September.

The following month was consumed by intensive training. Liang Yue, perhaps shaken, no longer troubled Shuran, spending her days practicing as well.

September arrived at last, and Shuran’s group set out for Italy.

The Lombardy Cup, like the Warsaw Cup, was a Challenger Series event. Fu Yiqing had chosen two stops for her, both with typically weaker fields—this, of course, based on Qin Liubei’s statistical analysis. Since the goal was to earn points, it made more sense to defeat weaker opponents than risk facing stronger ones.

Zhu Xinhui had just been discharged from the hospital, and Xu Jingyu stayed to care for her, so only Qin Liubei and Fu Yiqing accompanied Shuran to the competition.

Upon arrival, the trio scouted the route and awaited the evening event.

Short program and free skate were held on different days. During the six-minute warm-up before the short program, Shuran was nervous, missing several jumps—whether from unfamiliarity with the rink or anxiety, she made numerous mistakes, including a major jump error, placing fifth in the short program. First place went to a young Russian skater.

The next day, Shuran won the free skate, achieving her goal by finishing second overall.

Huo Guang called immediately upon hearing the news, congratulating and encouraging her. Shuran, not used to such enthusiasm, replied briefly; when the conversation stalled, Huo Guang ended the call.

Qin Liubei raised a glass in celebration, “Congratulations to our Shuran—no longer a rookie, now a seasoned competitor!”

Fu Yiqing frowned, “Eat properly. Put the bowl down.”

Qin Liubei scoffed, “He’s just jealous of how close we are. Shuran, honestly, you’ve improved a lot—maintain this free skate form, and making the Grand Prix Final shouldn’t be a problem.”

Shuran gave a dry laugh and waved her hand, “That’s an exaggeration. Reaching the Grand Prix Final is still difficult.”

Dark horses usually appear in single-event championships like Worlds, but the Grand Prix reveals a skater’s true level. There are two qualifying rounds—if you falter in either, you lose your chance at the Final. Those who make it must perform consistently across three competitions to earn honors.

Fu Yiqing spoke deliberately, “Your main goal this year is to gather points.”

“Exactly,” Qin Liubei chimed in, “The higher your ranking, the later you skate next year. Early starters rarely score high.”

In any competition, since judges don’t know the abilities of those yet to perform, the first skaters—even with strong performances—are scored more conservatively. Running order is crucial, especially in figure skating. Almost every event sees the later groups filled with renowned athletes, earning the moniker ‘Group of Death.’

The trio didn’t linger in Italy; after performing in the gala the next day, they returned home to prepare for the Grand Prix.

Shuran registered for the Grand Prix China and France stops, scheduled for early and late November, with ample time between for rest.

In the blink of an eye, November arrived.

As the host nation, China’s national team typically enters the women’s singles at its home event. With Shuran, the team had three entries: Jiang Wanru and junior teammate Wu Huihui completed the trio.

Shuran scanned the starting list and found herself slated to skate second. Looking further down, she noticed three Japanese and three Russian entries, with the remaining spots filled by American, Canadian, and the Italian star Lorraine.

Wu Huihui, clearly surprised to face such famous competitors, exclaimed, “What? Lorraine signed up here? Is she here to crush me?”

Jiang Wanru laughed, “Can’t you be more confident? You’re young—you just moved up to seniors this year, and you’re younger than she is.”

Wu Huihui shook her head and sighed, feigning confidence, “True, at least my flexibility is pretty good.”

Due to differing physiques, foreign skaters generally have longer careers than their Asian counterparts, but flexibility is a weakness—even young European and American athletes can’t match Asian skaters in that regard.

The first to skate was a Russian skater, apparently newly promoted to seniors, her face still youthful but her jumps relentless.

Shuran’s spins and footwork were excellent; she placed second in the short program, with Lorraine in third.

But the short program has strict requirements on the number of elements, testing the basics—the real test of skill would come in the free skate the next day.

On the way back, Fu Yiqing and Qin Liubei analyzed the day’s competition.

Qin Liubei pulled out his tablet, having made notes while watching the short program. “Looks like Lorraine’s injury is serious—she didn’t attempt either triple jump today, so her free skate tomorrow likely won’t be any better.”

Fu Yiqing’s gaze stayed fixed on his phone.

Curious, Shuran tiptoed over for a look, only for her wrist to be grabbed, “Careful.”

Startled, she looked up; Fu Yiqing shook his head in resignation, “Watch your step.”

She then noticed the stairs ahead; after looking, she again peeked at the screen.

An Excel spreadsheet?

“What’s this?” she asked.

Fu Yiqing replied, “A data table for all competitors at this stop.”

Shuran was taken aback, “What’s the point?” Wasn’t it just a matter of who was stronger?

Qin Liubei, understanding her confusion, wagged his finger, “Don’t underestimate these numbers. Even if the data is from online bios, when compiled, it becomes a secret weapon.”

Shuran had seen Qin Liubei’s tech skills, which began with building a massive database, so she just nodded.

Fu Yiqing continued, “Lorraine is already twenty-seven. Injured but refusing to retire—she must be aiming for medals, either at the Grand Prix Final or Worlds. Her strength shouldn’t be underestimated.”

Qin Liubei nodded, sliding Lorraine into the ‘threat’ category on the screen.

Their analysis identified two main competitors: Lorraine and Japan’s Miyake Miyue.

No matter how much data there was, Shuran knew that, ultimately, it all came down to the skaters’ own abilities.

At the start of the free skate, after listening to yesterday’s discussion, Shuran paid close attention to Miyake Miyue and Lorraine.

Grouping was based on yesterday’s rankings—four groups, with Shuran, Lorraine, and Miyake Miyue in the same one. The draw determined the order: Miyake Miyue first, Lorraine second, Shuran last.

Miyake Miyue led the standings, just as Fu Yiqing had expected. Clearly, her poor performance the previous day was due to unfamiliarity with the rink, while Shuran and her teammates could perform steadily thanks to their home advantage.

Perhaps because she was mentally prepared, Shuran felt less nervous.

As Lorraine entered, foreign cheers rang from the stands. With few spectators present, the Italian flag stood out.

Lorraine began her elegant footwork, and even her opening triple flip betrayed no sign of injury; Shuran realized Fu Yiqing’s foresight.

It was desire for medals that gave Lorraine the strength to endure pain.

Her program was set to music from the Italian film “The Legend of 1900.” The piano was the protagonist’s life—its eighty-eight keys within control, while the outside world was infinite and unknown. Thus, 1900 would rather die on the ship than step ashore.

Lorraine portrayed 1900’s willingness—or perhaps, her own life.

As 1900 explained: what I fear is not what I see, but what I fail to see.

Shuran felt Lorraine must relate deeply to those words.

The uncertain future without skating terrifies her; skating is Lorraine’s life. She would risk losing her ability to walk, just to hold her head high on the ice, as 1900 did.

In that instant, not only Shuran but every spectator saw Lorraine’s passion for figure skating.

Midway through, Shuran saw Lorraine wince in pain during a jump, and her heart tightened with concern.

Empathy made her wish every competitor safety.

Lorraine finished with a flawless clean skate, kneeling on the ice, head raised, tears streaming; the cameras captured the moment, and the commentators, moved by her performance, stirred the crowd.

Lorraine left the rink with one leg raised, a wheelchair waiting; her coach pushed her to the scoring area.

Clearly, Lorraine’s injury had been aggravated by the earlier jump.

As she passed Shuran, Shuran, moved by compassion, said in English, “Good luck for you.”

Lorraine’s tearful gaze met Shuran’s, her lips curving into a warm smile. “Fighting!”

This medal belonged to Lorraine, beyond question.

Watching Lorraine’s departing figure, Shuran felt only admiration.

Perhaps her own fate might be similar. If it were her, would she risk losing her future mobility for a medal, as Lorraine had?

The live scores came in—Lorraine took the lead, and the next skater’s score couldn’t surpass hers or Miyake Miyue’s.

As Shuran was lost in thought, the announcer called the name of the final skater: “Number Four, Shuran.”