Chapter Forty-One: A New Teacher

With the conclusion of the World Championships, the curtain finally fell on the 2019-2020 season. The photos and videos from that day at the pottery studio with Zhu Hongzhe and his friends were posted online, and many netizens recognized Shu Ran, boosting her follower count once again.

Yet ever since watching Kristina’s free skate, Shu Ran no longer felt smug; she rarely even logged onto Weibo. Qin Liubei was the one who told her about the post.

Shu Ran gave a succinct response—“Oh.”

“Oh?” Qin Liubei clicked his tongue. “Can’t you show me a little respect? At least follow me back on Weibo. I tell people I’m your coach and nobody believes me, you know?”

Fu Yiqing took Qin Liubei’s phone, glanced at the news, and asked, “That cup from last time, was it made then?”

Shu Ran replied, “Yes. I didn’t know what to give you, so I wandered around and happened to bump into them.”

After returning the phone to Qin Liubei, Fu Yiqing said nothing more.

*

The tasks during the off-season were comparatively light. Shu Ran spent each day strengthening her technical skills, combining them with artistic training, and time slipped by unnoticed.

By mid-June, Fu Yiqing took Shu Ran to Canada to choreograph her new program.

This time, the choreographer was still Berus, with Fu Yiqing as artistic director, naturally stepping forward. The identity of the technical coach was left unannounced.

Shu Ran had spent the past two years flying incessantly for competitions; boarding planes was as routine as eating or drinking, almost a part of daily life now. She gazed out the window at the clouds leaning against each other, tapping the glass—at a certain angle, her fingertip seemed to touch the white cotton candy clouds.

Her eyes landed on a cloud shaped like a cat. Excited, she turned to call Fu Yiqing, but found him asleep.

All her words dissolved into silence.

His eyelashes were long, the light outside casting shadows beneath his eyes, deepening the contours of his brows and making him look even more captivating. His lips were well-shaped, his nose tall and straight, and his breathing gentle.

From her seat, she could clearly see the pulse throbbing at his slender neck.

Her gaze moved downward, and she was surprised to find a faint reddish-brown mole near his collarbone. That mole lent him a touch of ascetic allure.

Shu Ran quietly admired Fu Yiqing’s sleeping face.

Her summary of this visual feast: Her Coach Fu was truly handsome.

She did not quite understand how her feelings had shifted. What started as a vague affection for Fu Yiqing, after they clarified their relationship and she gradually grasped the significance of figure skating to her, evolved into something more familial. She could share anything with him, and they took care of each other at work and in life.

She suddenly thought, if they could accompany each other like this into old age, perhaps it would be a wonderful experience.

*

Technical guidance was the first order of business.

Shu Ran stepped onto the ice to feel its condition for the day, the cold wind whistling past her ears.

She devoted herself to practicing basic footwork, her expression serious, her mind empty of everything but her movements.

She finished her final jump.

The 3A, or triple Axel, is the only jump among the six that begins with a forward takeoff, making it half a rotation longer than the others and earning the nickname “three-and-a-half rotation jump.”

Signs of instability on landing appeared at the takeoff. With too much force, she jumped too high and was flung across the ice.

The sound of her fall echoed through the rink, reverberating overhead.

Her thigh throbbed with pain, but Shu Ran was used to it. She grimaced, endured the ache, and prepared to continue.

She brushed off the ice shards and slid to the barrier where Fu Yiqing stood, quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe her sweat, and was about to return to the center when something caught her eye.

She whipped her head around.

A woman stood there, wearing a chiffon off-the-shoulder shirt in apricot yellow and jeans, her figure tall and curvaceous.

She had an Asian face, her skin a tan shade—more the kind favored for beauty—and her features were gentle. Her black hair was loosely tied at the nape.

She was the sort of woman one could not dislike at first sight.

She seemed familiar.

The woman was the first to extend her hand to Shu Ran, smiling broadly and greeting her in somewhat imperfect Mandarin, “Hello, Shu Ran, I am—”

Before she finished, a frame flashed in Shu Ran’s mind.

Two years ago at the Winter Olympics, she saw this woman sitting beside the men's world champion Gen Kurashina and his coach, waiting for scores!

Shu Ran’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Are you Gen Kurashina’s coach?”

The woman smiled, “To be precise, I am Gen Kurashina’s technical advisor. But now, I am soon to be Shu Ran’s technical advisor.”

Hearing herself mentioned alongside Gen Kurashina, Shu Ran blushed bashfully.

The woman’s gentle laughter accompanied her self-introduction, reaching Shu Ran’s ears.

“My name is Lin Jiahui. You can call me Sister Jiahui.”

Shu Ran looked up, blinking. “Sister Jiahui.”

Lin Jiahui then turned to Fu Yiqing. “Is it my turn now?”

Fu Yiqing lifted a hand, signaling her forward.

Lin Jiahui took a deep breath, looked Shu Ran up and down. “Let’s start the lesson.”

If Fu Yiqing always kept a stern face, Lin Jiahui was a master of switching expressions before and after class.

She changed into her skates, followed Shu Ran wherever she went, observing closely, with the strictest standards for every move.

She pointed out that Shu Ran tended to use the wrong edge in combination jumps, and that her pre-rotation angle already exceeded 180 degrees.

Shu Ran had never felt confident about her technique, but it had never made her so anxious; now she felt as though none of her movements were right.

After the afternoon’s training, Lin Jiahui switched back to her gentle demeanor.

When Lin Jiahui patted Shu Ran’s shoulder at the end, Shu Ran felt almost afraid.

After leaving the locker room, Shu Ran saw Fu Yiqing and Lin Jiahui chatting happily together. It was the first time she saw Fu Yiqing so lively with someone other than herself.

A strange feeling rose from within.

Discomfort.

She almost wanted to rush over and demand an explanation, as if she could already hear voices justifying Fu Yiqing’s behavior in her mind.

Driven by her tangled emotions, Shu Ran didn’t realize she had walked up to them.

Lin Jiahui laughed, turning the conversation to Shu Ran, “I was just telling Barrow about you.”

Barrow was Fu Yiqing’s English name, known only to those aware of his role as vice president of the International Skating Union.

Shu Ran couldn’t help but sneak another look at Lin Jiahui, this time out of guilt.

She hadn’t observed carefully before, but now she saw Lin Jiahui’s beautiful eyes, elegant hands, pleasant voice, and graceful figure. If she were a bit fairer, she might rival Fu Yiqing in attractiveness.

So this was the type of woman Fu Yiqing liked.

Comparing herself, her chest was flat, her hips were reasonably shaped, and her looks could only be called delicate.

Shu Ran dared not continue admiring Lin Jiahui’s beauty, afraid that the more she looked, the less she could bear to see herself. She hid her disappointment, lowering her eyes.

Lin Jiahui said something else to Fu Yiqing, and they both laughed again.

Fu Yiqing looked at Shu Ran. “Someone’s asking you a question.”

Shu Ran looked up, confused, and Lin Jiahui repeated with a smile, “Come have dinner at my place later.”

“Ah?”

The two laughed again, making Shu Ran wonder if something was on her face—why did they keep looking at her and laughing?

Lin Jiahui was an American-born Chinese, only recently settled in Canada, her Mandarin not very fluent. She spoke English with Fu Yiqing and a mix of Chinese and English with Shu Ran.

When speaking with Fu Yiqing, she didn’t have to worry about whether he understood, so she spoke quickly; Shu Ran couldn’t follow their conversation.

That feeling of being left out was truly unpleasant.

Lin Jiahui lived nearby, and the three walked there together.

But Shu Ran’s expression remained listless, and Fu Yiqing noticed her mood, his smile fading. As Lin Jiahui continued talking, he returned to the conversation.

Lin Jiahui’s laughter made Shu Ran’s nose sting; she walked heavily at Fu Yiqing’s right.

The urge not to go to Lin Jiahui’s home grew sharper and stronger.

At the building entrance, Shu Ran could no longer hold back. “Coach Fu, I just remembered I left something in the locker room. I’ll go back to get it first.”

Without giving them time to respond, she turned and ran.

Lin Jiahui’s smile paused, tilting her head as she watched Shu Ran’s retreating figure, hands on her hips, shaking her head helplessly. “Did I really come across too strict? You said Shu Ran was lively, but she seems afraid of me, barely talking.”

Fu Yiqing stared after her, recalling her unsettled expression, and seemed to understand.

“No, she’s just a bit shy.”

Lin Jiahui said, “No need to comfort me. When I coached Gen Kurashina, he was just like Shu Ran—silent from fear.”

Once Shu Ran left, Fu Yiqing’s smile faded. “You go ahead, I’ll talk to her.”

“Alright.”

Shu Ran hadn’t left anything in the locker room. Once out of their sight, she slowed, head down, wandering aimlessly.

A sense of grievance flooded her, making her want to cry.

This must be what heartbreak feels like.

She pulled out her phone to listen to music and put on her headphones, only to realize all she had downloaded were symphonies and classical pieces used for figure skating.

To concentrate on her new program, she hadn’t bought an international data package and couldn’t connect online.

So sad—even listening to breakup songs felt like a luxury.

Did poverty mean even heartbreak music was out of reach?

Thus Shu Ran strolled along to Chopin, feeling like a student, heartbroken yet still having to finish her homework through tears.

She kept her eyes on the ground, when suddenly a pair of long legs appeared.

Looking up, she saw Fu Yiqing, sighing helplessly, his expression stern. “Listening to music while walking is one thing, but you’re not even watching where you’re going.”

Shu Ran was stunned, and then tears streamed down her face.

Fu Yiqing panicked. “What’s wrong? I only said a few words. If you don’t like it, I won’t say it again.”

Shu Ran sniffled, turning her face away, lips pressed tight. “The wind stings my eyes.”

Seeing her bravado, Fu Yiqing smiled for half a second, then straightened his face. “Mm, it does.”

After a quiet moment, Shu Ran spoke in a muffled voice. “Coach Fu, are you and Coach Lin close?”

Fu Yiqing’s lips curled, “Very close.”

Shu Ran’s heart sank. “Oh, I could tell. You two kept chatting and laughing.”

“Do you want to know what we were talking about?”

She didn’t want to know at all.

Still, Shu Ran asked perfunctorily, “What?”

Fu Yiqing said, “When Lin Jiahui works, she becomes uncontrollably strict. She kept saying you seemed afraid of her, and said that if you knew you’d be going to her place for dinner, you’d be very unwilling.”

“Oh—ah?”

The two interjections came from Shu Ran with nearly opposite expressions, her face full of question marks.

Fu Yiqing flicked her forehead, chuckling. “So, is there really anything left in the locker room?”

Only then did Shu Ran realize Fu Yiqing had seen through her lie.

She blushed, confessing, “No.”

Just then, her stomach growled.

She bowed her head even lower.

Fu Yiqing couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Hungry?”

Shu Ran nodded.

“Come on, let’s go eat.”

Without waiting for Shu Ran to refuse, Fu Yiqing took her hand and led her back. Shu Ran’s calm heart was now turbulent, but she kept up the pretense of composure.

“Oh.”