Chapter Fifty-Four: Stage Champion

Since Shu Ran broke the world record for the women’s singles short program in figure skating, she naturally claimed first place in the short program. The news quickly made its way back to China, and this topic shot from the bottom of the trending list straight to the top.

@SportsNews: “#ShuRanWorldRecord# At the Russian stop of the Figure Skating Grand Prix, Chinese athlete Shu Ran broke the world record for the short program. Let’s all congratulate @ShuRanice!”

“Damn! This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment! To witness the rise of women’s singles, and a world record at that! It hasn’t been broken in eight years. Shu Ran is incredible. Is there a video? I want to watch it.”

“I watched the video; her skating was superb. It perfectly fits foreigners’ impression of us Chinese—everyone knows a bit of kung fu. See, even skating can incorporate martial arts, haha.”

“Tonight, we are all Shu Ran’s ice fans.”

“Suddenly realized that idol chasing is really pointless. Why not follow sports stars instead? Results are crystal clear, no need for fans to fight. I’ll start supporting her first.”

“The Winter Olympics are next year, and Shu Ran broke the world record at this moment. She’s on track to become world champion! I’ll definitely watch next year’s Olympics.”

Very soon, the hashtag #TonightWeAllCheerForShuRan# also surged to the top of the trending list.

Shu Ran, unaware of all this, returned to her hotel and went to bed early; there was a last-minute training session the next morning.

Fu Yiqing, however, briefly mentioned to her the support she was receiving from Chinese fans. Shu Ran’s brows arched with delight as she continued listening to music during training.

Qin Liubei nudged Fu Yiqing’s arm. “Why not tell her about what’s happening on Weibo? She’d be even happier.”

Fu Yiqing replied, “She’ll find out after the competition.”

Qin Liubei was puzzled. “If she knows now, with her personality, wouldn’t she perform even better in the free skate?”

He waited a long time without an answer. Just as he thought Fu Yiqing wouldn’t respond, he heard, “I don’t think so. It’s more likely she’ll feel greater pressure.”

If Shu Ran performed “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” so well because she grew up in China, immersed in martial arts dramas since childhood, then conversely, “Pan’s Labyrinth,” a foreign film with hidden Western mythologies, was naturally a blind spot for her.

Moreover, Shu Ran had set a new world record in the short program the day before, which would inevitably raise the judges’ expectations.

Fu Yiqing’s gaze deepened thoughtfully. “In short, it’s best to let her stay in her current state. Besides, I want to see what her true ability looks like without outside interference.”

The next day’s free skate saw Shu Ran placed in the final group, with her performance scheduled last.

Her performance the previous day had not only shown audiences and judges her strength, but also alerted competitors from other countries to her formidable presence. While this put considerable pressure on other skaters, for those with strong mental fortitude, pressure was motivation.

Among the athletes skating before Shu Ran, there were many renowned names. Samantha was one of them, known for being a slow starter—her short program often lagged, but her free skate was her real strength, sometimes even surpassing expectations.

Jennifer from the United States was another powerhouse. Having just moved up to the senior division last year, she had claimed third place at last year’s World Championships.

Then there was Miyuki Miyagi, one of Japan’s top three favorites, said to be the successor to Kiyohara Yuka. She had placed second in the short program yesterday and was not to be underestimated.

In other words, for Shu Ran to win at the Russian stop, she had to deliver a performance as outstanding as yesterday.

But Fu Yiqing and Qin Liubei both knew that Shu Ran’s performance yesterday was exceptional, beyond her usual. The odds of repeating such a feat were unknown—they could only hope.

Few women’s singles skaters continue to compete after winning an Olympic gold, as their physical condition can’t match men’s, and the older they get, the higher the risk of mistakes. Moreover, every year new, younger athletes with better fitness emerge. One misstep, and the Olympic champion’s aura fades, the value of the title diminished.

Samantha felt this acutely. Her physical condition was still good, but no matter how good, she couldn’t match the younger generation, like Shu Ran, who had burst onto the scene.

Thinking of the possible media coverage upon returning home, Samantha decided to take a risk.

Samantha was the first to perform in the final group; the current leader was Maggie, followed by Chelsea.

“Samantha, representing Russia. Her program: ‘To This Land of Ice.’”

Shu Ran stood at the edge as Samantha skated past her, trailing a gust of wind.

Samantha prepared for her jump; her eyes suddenly became resolute.

With determination, Samantha launched into a 3A followed by a 2T.

Gasps filled the arena. No one had ever made a 3A into a combination jump; even if someone did, it was always a 2A as the first jump. Few women’s singles skaters could complete a 3A, let alone as part of a combination.

In that instant, Shu Ran understood Samantha’s expression before the jump—it was something called passion.

Shu Ran suddenly grasped the meaning behind Samantha’s free skate title.

After twenty years on the ice, perhaps Samantha had felt bored or regretful along the way, but now, at this point in her journey, all that remained was love and no regrets.

Samantha loved this ice, and she loved figure skating even more.

Her program was swift and dynamic, but she handled it beautifully. When she finished, she lowered her arms and lifted her head, and the crowd noticed she was crying.

Thunderous applause erupted.

Everyone was moved by her “silent confession.” Perhaps ordinary people couldn’t understand an athlete’s love and hate for the ice, but now, they saw the sincerity of this veteran skater whose life was only just beginning in the eyes of most, and her deep attachment to figure skating.

Shu Ran was touched as well, but she had no room for relaxation yet, so she withdrew her gaze and continued her warm-up exercises.

Samantha’s free skate score was 152.88, and combined with her short program, her total was 223.98, taking first place in the overall standings.

Samantha had proven herself—this score was excellent, and even at the Grand Prix Final, would be enough for top three. It also placed considerable pressure on the three skaters yet to perform.

Next up was Miyuki Miyagi, who also performed well but did not surpass Samantha, ending up second.

Jennifer, perhaps due to her youth and lack of experience, clearly lost her composure—she fell on her first jump, and the following jumps had rotation issues. Ultimately, she failed to push Maggie out of third place.

Current standings:

1. Samantha – 223.98
2. Miyuki Miyagi – 210.45
3. Maggie – 208.17

Apart from Samantha, the other scores were close. For Shu Ran to win, she would need at least 142.59 in the free skate. However, her free skate had never been her forte, with her best score just over 130.

It seemed she might have to settle for silver again.

Before Shu Ran took the ice, Fu Yiqing whispered to her, “It’s alright if you don’t make the Grand Prix Final. Don’t be like Samantha and change your routine at the last minute—making such risk-taking jumps can easily lead to injury.”

Shu Ran nodded. “Understood. I’ll play it safe.”

As Shu Ran stood at the entrance to the rink, a spontaneous roar of applause erupted. She paused, looking up at the loudest section.

Unexpectedly, her action made the audience believe their applause had caught her attention, and soon, spectators from different areas began competing to be the loudest.

“Shu Ran, representing China. Program: ‘Pan’s Labyrinth.’”

A lullaby-like melody echoed in the vast arena. Shu Ran pressed her hands together by her ear, tilted her head, and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep.

She began skating with her eyes closed.

Back then, Qin Liubei had said this was too risky—after all, with her eyes closed, she couldn’t see anything and could easily crash into the boards and get hurt.

Fu Yiqing also suggested changing the music, to avoid starting with this segment.

But Shu Ran stopped them. “I like this part. I can practice enough to remember how many steps to skate, and I’ll be fine.”

Berus had looked at her then with an expression full of satisfaction.

When the lullaby ended, Shu Ran slowly opened her eyes, revealing her beautiful gaze—though lovely, it was dull and lifeless. The gray irises and hollow look constantly reminded the audience that she was a child deprived of familial love.

Her first jump was her signature 3A, landed perfectly, and the subsequent twizzle matched the musical beat.

The following combination jump had a slight mistake, making Fu Yiqing outside the rink break out in a cold sweat. The sandwich jump also had a minor issue; it was unclear how the judges would score it, and only the replay would tell.

This segment depicted the little girl Ophelia following Pan’s instructions, inadvertently breaking the rules and awakening the monster.

The constantly shifting hand movements greatly helped Shu Ran portray Ophelia’s terror while being chased.

Ophelia was ultimately shot by her stepfather, but when her soul arrived underground, she found her family waiting for her, and finally smiled.

During the spins, Shu Ran continually changed her hand and leg positions. As the music ended, she collapsed to the ice, maintaining her initial sleeping pose, peacefully drifting off with a faint smile tinged with sadness.

The performance was finally over. Shu Ran relaxed, knowing she hadn’t performed well, so she had no expectations for the results. Yet the audience was thoroughly satisfied, rushing forward to toss stuffed animals and flowers onto the ice.

A quarter of the rink was covered.

“Sorry.”

Fu Yiqing hugged her, gently stroking her back. “It was very good; at least it’s your best performance ever of a foreign film.”

The three moved to the kiss-and-cry area and watched the big screen, which showed replays of Shu Ran’s jumps.

Her first combination had a rotation issue, likely to lose GOE points, but fortunately the sandwich jump’s rotation didn’t exceed 180 degrees; the GOE might be small, but at least not negative.

Announcement: “Shu Ran’s free skate score…”

Shu Ran couldn’t help but tense up, clenching her fists, as the screen displayed her free skate score: 143.64.

Her total score: 225.05.

The screen immediately showed the rankings for the Russian event.

Shu Ran was first!

Her eyes widened, a look of astonishment and delight spreading across her face.

She hurriedly turned to Fu Yiqing and Qin Liubei, smiling.

Fu Yiqing opened his arms; Shu Ran hesitated, about to embrace him, when Qin Liubei suddenly darted from her left and hugged Fu Yiqing tightly.

Fu Yiqing was stunned.

Qin Liubei, oblivious to Fu Yiqing’s expression, grinned happily. “I knew Shu Ran could do it!”