Chapter Thirty-Eight: He Was Watching Her!

Shuran quietly asked Qin Liubei, but even he had no idea what medicine Fu Yiqing was selling this time. Upon hearing Shuran’s question, Qin Liubei was startled. “What? I thought we were all here for a vacation. He actually has ulterior motives?”

Seeing Fu Yiqing turn around to look at them from ahead, Shuran gave an awkward smile and whispered, “Keep your voice down. He said he’s here to watch the World Championships.”

Qin Liubei breathed a sigh of relief. “Why overthink it? It’s just a competition. Watching the event is part of our vacation. It’s like antique dealers who travel and always end up looking at local antiques, or police officers who notice suspicious characters even when on holiday. It’s the same principle—professional habit. We’re in the figure skating industry; coming out for vacation and catching a figure skating competition is perfectly natural. Why overanalyze your Coach Fu’s intentions?”

Shuran considered it and realized it made sense.

She relaxed then, too.

The opening ceremony was held today, but the four of them were exhausted from their journey and chose to rest in the hotel, planning to attend the free skate in person tomorrow.

Since last August's farewell, Shuran hadn’t seen Xu Jingyu for a long time. Now gathered together, they had plenty to talk about.

Shuran crawled across the bed, her curious eyes wide. “I’ve always known you and Qin Liubei had something going on, but I didn’t expect you two to get together so quickly.”

Xu Jingyu’s smile carried a delicate blush. “I didn’t expect it either. At the time… my neighbors saw him come to my house for New Year and misunderstood. He didn’t say anything. Later, I ran into my ex and his current girlfriend. That girl is a real schemer, showing off her new bag in front of me. I wanted nothing more than to slap her. Qin Liubei happened to return then and put his arm around my shoulder.”

Xu Jingyu’s brows arched, her gaze flickering. “You know, Qin Liubei can be a bit cheeky, but he’s undeniably handsome. If that schemer knew I’d snagged a good-looking boyfriend, she’d die of jealousy. So I flaunted our relationship right in front of those two. And then… we really got together.”

The brief retelling left Shuran imagining countless possibilities.

She really wished she could have seen that moment; nothing is more entertaining than confronting a scummy ex and a conniving girl.

“What about you two?” Xu Jingyu suddenly asked.

Shuran paused, then offered a gentle smile. “Actually, I think things are pretty good as they are.”

Xu Jingyu didn’t press, changing the subject to plans for the coming days.

They slept late, finally waking in the afternoon, found a restaurant for lunch, strolled around, and then headed to the ice rink hosting the World Championships.

It wasn’t yet time for audience entry, so they wandered the nearby mall for a while.

Shuran bought gifts for her parents, planning to have Xu Jingyu bring them home.

When the time finally came, the four entered the venue.

This was Shuran’s first time at the rink as a spectator. With no pressure to compete, she felt completely at ease, finding everything new and exciting.

Xu Jingyu was also witnessing her first live event—pointing at machines, asking what they were, or inquiring about who was sitting where.

Qin Liubei patiently explained, acting composed and knowledgeable, but Shuran could see the unmistakable look of enjoyment on his face.

Clearly, he relished being his girlfriend’s all-knowing guide.

There was no opening ceremony today. The afternoon began with the ice dance free skate, followed by men’s singles free skate, then the award ceremonies for ice dance and men’s singles, and after five o’clock, pairs and ladies’ singles events.

Aside from ladies’ singles, Shuran wasn’t familiar with the star athletes in the other disciplines.

She listened as Qin Liubei commented, “The favorites for this World Championships are Riley and Allen from the US, Yoru Kyuhara and Yoshihiko Kagawa from Japan, Francisco from Spain, and Zhi Hongzhe from China.”

Qin Liubei emphasized, “These are just the top contenders. There are many strong athletes, not to mention the dark horses.”

That’s the difference between the Grand Prix and the World Championships.

In the Grand Prix, only the top six athletes with the highest cumulative points from two events qualify for the final. Those who make it are consistently strong performers; for someone like Shuran, whose performance can be inconsistent, reaching the finals is difficult.

But at the World Championships, dark horses have a much higher chance of winning medals.

Shuran always knew Zhi Hongzhe was exceptional, but still couldn’t help being surprised hearing his name from Qin Liubei. “Is Zhi Hongzhe really that impressive?”

Qin Liubei replied, “Didn’t you watch the Winter Olympics two years ago? He won the bronze. That’s a big deal—surely you understand. Plus, last year’s champion retired, which means Zhi Hongzhe is now the world’s second best.”

Zhi Hongzhe always highlighted his prowess with a joking tone. Everyone knew he was kidding, so instead of coming off as arrogant, he seemed humorous, easing the pressure of training with a world champion for those around him.

Thinking back, at Zhi Hongzhe’s level, making friends probably meant using self-deprecating humor to reach out.

With that, Shuran felt a renewed respect.

While they discussed Zhi Hongzhe, Fu Yiqing furrowed his brow several times.

Just as he thought the conversation was over, Xu Jingyu, puzzled, joined in. “Our national team has such outstanding athletes?!”

Xu Jingyu’s interest in figure skating stemmed from Shuran, so she didn’t know much about other national team members.

Seeing his girlfriend’s confusion, Qin Liubei saw his chance to shine.

A smug smile played on his lips, about to explain, when Fu Yiqing suddenly interjected, “Baike has all the details—clear and concise.”

Xu Jingyu nodded, beginning to search for Zhi Hongzhe online.

Qin Liubei had hoped to impress his girlfriend, but instead watched as she marveled over another man’s achievements. He felt a pang of jealousy, glancing at Fu Yiqing, who pretended not to notice.

The men’s singles event began. Fu Yiqing acted normal at first—until Zhi Hongzhe took the ice.

As Zhi Hongzhe’s fans waved flags and cheered, Shuran’s patriotism flared; she joined in, yelling his name.

Fu Yiqing pressed her shoulder. “Are you his fan?”

Shuran’s excitement was clear. “No, I’m just an incurable fan of my country.”

With that, she called out, “Go, Zhi Hongzhe!”

Her shout seemed to catch Zhi Hongzhe’s attention. As he skated to center ice, his gaze swept the stands and landed briefly in her direction.

Shuran was stunned. “He seemed to smile at me.”

Fu Yiqing’s expression darkened. “You’re mistaken.”

“Really.”

Shuran’s dazed look was like a fan transfixed by their idol’s glance, frozen in place, unable to recover.

That was Fu Yiqing’s interpretation of Shuran’s expression, and his face grew even gloomier.

But what Shuran felt was something else: the sensation of calling out a name with everyone in the crowd, and then the star, amidst thousands, looking right at you—it was like winning a lucky draw on social media. Even for a tiny prize, the more people involved, the lower the odds, and the happiness of being chosen grows.

It was as if the goddess of luck had smiled upon her.

As Shuran pondered whether the spectators she watched as she skated felt the same way, a girl ahead was on the phone, almost too excited to speak. “Ah! Brother, Zhi Hongzhe just looked at me and smiled. I swear, I told you to come, but you wouldn’t. That was a smile from a world champion!”

Fu Yiqing glanced at Shuran, murmuring, “You really were mistaken.”

Shuran sighed. “Alright, I guess I was.”

She knew luck never favored her.

The men’s singles concluded, and Zhi Hongzhe’s performance was exceptional. But a few errors in yesterday’s short program left him ranked second overall, earning him the silver.

For Shuran, a silver medal was already remarkable; considering the high caliber of the other competitors, Zhi Hongzhe’s achievement was almost legendary.

During the award ceremony, Zhi Hongzhe waved toward Shuran’s section, causing spectators nearby to wonder if he knew someone there.

They searched carefully, but found no one.

Because Fu Yiqing had hidden Shuran inside his jacket.

Her heart stopped for a moment—the jacket blocked her from the world, yet gave her a sense of inexplicable security.

She heard strong heartbeats in her ear, “thump thump,” and the familiar, faint scent belonging only to Fu Yiqing, a hint of sea breeze, with warmth like sunlight by the ocean.

“All done.”

Before Shuran could react, the world was bright again.

Fu Yiqing didn’t look at her, only watched the audience ahead. “Now do you see why I told you not to draw attention?”

Though Shuran was still just emerging in figure skating, only competing in events with modest lineups, making her unlikely to be recognized, her videos on Twitter and Weibo were famous.

If she were recognized, who knew what the news might say.

Failed to qualify for the World Championships, but bought a ticket instead?

Shuran lowered her head, obediently nodding.

“Excuse me…” came a voice from behind.

Shuran instinctively shifted closer to Fu Yiqing, seeking protection.

Fu Yiqing turned, meeting the stranger’s eyes. “It really is you.”

Shuran frowned in confusion. “You know someone here, Fu Yiqing?”

But Fu Yiqing didn’t recognize him either. “Who are you?”

“I’m a figure skating enthusiast. I’ve watched Shuran’s competitions—I think highly of her. You’re her coach, right?”

The stranger glanced at Fu Yiqing’s side, trying to spot the hidden figure, then looked around cautiously, covering his mouth with his left hand and whispering, “Shuran, is that you?”

They’d overlooked this possibility; it wasn’t just Shuran who appeared in the videos, but Fu Yiqing and Qin Liubei as well.

Shuran and Fu Yiqing exchanged a look, sharing an exasperated smile.