Chapter Sixty-Six: Her Answer

Their lips brushed lightly together.

In that fleeting touch, all of Fu Yiqing’s self-control snapped once more. Her lips were so soft, even carrying a hint of sweetness. What began as a tentative taste was easy to begin, but nearly impossible to end.

Shuran’s pupils contracted; at the instant their lips collided, her mind exploded into chaos, her soul soaring far beyond the clouds.

“Focus,” he said.

He treated her as though she were a precious treasure, gently tracing her lips, lingering at their corners, then deepening the kiss.

“Coach Fu…” she breathed.

From that moment—when things spun out of control—to the sound of her calling him “Coach Fu,” Fu Yiqing’s rationality finally returned. Meeting the bewildered panic in the girl’s eyes, his reckless impulse evaporated completely.

Suddenly, Fu Yiqing froze, gazing at Shuran in a daze as he sat up, still holding her waist.

She sat in his lap, utterly stunned.

He uttered a quiet, “I’m sorry,” then turned away. Before heading upstairs, he reminded her to change into clean clothes.

Shuran was incapable of independent thought. Mechanically, she returned to the sofa. Only when the dampness of her clothes seeped beneath her skin and a chill made her shiver did she finally go upstairs to change.

In the mirror, her reflection caught her eye and held it for a long time.

The girl in the glass had a rosy flush on her cheeks; her lips, tinted a shade between red and pink, still glistened, recalling the intimate moment just past.

Shuran’s face turned scarlet, and she pressed a trembling hand over her racing heart.

Did Coach Fu feel the same as she did?

Lost in thought, she pulled on a set of loungewear at random. Then, remembering it was still afternoon and training could not be delayed, she changed into sportswear instead.

Meanwhile, Fu Yiqing’s mind was equally tumultuous.

He regretted his momentary loss of control, especially on the eve of competition—this would surely affect Shuran’s state of mind.

As he worried over how to resolve the situation, his phone chimed, interrupting his thoughts.

It was a message from Shuran, but what surprised him was not the sender, but the content.

“Coach, I won’t dwell on what happened just now. From now on, I’ll do my best to follow your training plans.”

Looking at the message in the chat window—already sent, irretrievable—Shuran exhaled a heavy breath. She glanced once more at her reflection in the mirror, and slowly lifted her hand to touch her lips.

The warmth of memory lingered there.

A sudden knock at the door startled her, making her shoulders tense.

“Is this a good time?” Fu Yiqing’s voice came from outside.

Nervously, Shuran checked her appearance, only relaxing when she saw she was dressed appropriately. Forcing herself to calm down, she answered.

Fu Yiqing entered.

He had always been a gentleman, respectful of others’ privacy. Even though usually only the two of them lived here, Shuran rarely closed her door. Though Fu Yiqing had chided her about it many times, she simply could not bring herself to be wary of him.

“Coach Fu?” she said, her heart pounding. Her face appeared calm, but her hands, nervously wringing together by her sides, betrayed her unease.

His gaze quickly swept over her hands before he looked up. Though they stood so close, it felt as if vast mountains and rivers separated them; he seemed especially distant.

His deep eyes were filled with an emotion too profound to name, hidden from her. Before, he had restrained himself—but today, he made no effort to conceal his feelings.

Afraid she was imagining things, Shuran dared not even lift her head. “Did you come to discuss my training schedule?”

Her nerves were so taut she didn’t even realize she’d used the formal “you.”

Fu Yiqing advanced, step by step, until he stood before her. “No, I want to talk about something personal.”

In Shuran’s mind, a voice whispered, “It’s over.” Fu Yiqing’s solemn tone and formal attitude filled her with dread.

She felt sure he was about to reject her.

“Shuran, why do you think I acted that way toward you just now?”

She didn’t answer.

He cradled her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to avoid this anymore. I’ve been running from this for too long. I’d intended to wait until after your dreams were realized to tell you, but clearly, I don’t have the strength to keep hiding it.”

Shuran swallowed with difficulty, her blinking eyes full of worry and confusion.

Fu Yiqing realized, then, that every expression she wore moved him deeply.

“I won’t leave you,” he said with a sense of relief.

Shuran stared at him in bewilderment.

He seemed to cherish this dazed look of hers, a smile unconsciously curving his lips. “No matter if you win or lose, Shuran, will you let me stay by your side, always?”

Familiar words made Shuran think of a wedding ceremony.

Will you take him as your husband?

But, different from a priest’s solemn detachment, Fu Yiqing spoke with all his tenderness, capturing her heart in an instant.

Shuran turned her face away, frowning. “Coach, why?”

“Because I can see only you. So I hope I am the only one you see as well,” he replied. “But if you’re unwilling, we can pretend today never happened. We can go back to how things were—I’ll be your coach, and you’ll be my skater. After the Winter Olympics, I’ll return to the International Skating Union.”

“So, Shuran, tell me—what is your answer?”

“But you once said a figure skater’s career is so short… Why now…” Her voice trailed off, head bowing lower and lower.

“Because you are no longer the Shuran you once were.”

She agreed with him.

A year ago, if she had heard Fu Yiqing say these words, she might have leapt into his arms, weeping tears of joy.

But things were different now.

A year ago, she would never have achieved what she had achieved today. Now, she had to consider more; she was more rational.

And Fu Yiqing was not the same man he had been, either. In her presence, perhaps he was less rational than she.

As she remained silent, gazing at the floor, Fu Yiqing smiled faintly and said, “I understand,” before turning to leave.

Suddenly, a weight collided with his back, warmth enveloped him, and arms tightened around his waist.

“I’m afraid,” Shuran whispered.

Fu Yiqing didn’t know if he was stunned by the collision, her initiative, or her words, but he stood still for a long moment, listening intently to her heart.

Her voice was soft and delicate. “I’m afraid… Afraid that you’ll leave after the Olympics. So all this time, my only motivation to train hard has been to keep you here. But now that you’ve said this, I suddenly have no reason to fight anymore.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Fu Yiqing’s eyes. All this time, he’d thought…

He’d thought she cared too much about winning and losing, that the pressure was crushing her. That’s why he’d told her he would always stay by her side, hoping to ease her burdens. But he hadn’t realized that the pressure was itself her driving force.

Yet, on second thought, he suddenly understood, and even felt grateful for his impulsiveness that day.

Just as Shuran was about to cry, a brief laugh sounded.

It was so light and short that, for a moment, she thought she’d imagined it.

“Foolish girl.”

This time, she was certain she hadn’t misheard.

Fu Yiqing gently removed her hands from his waist and turned to face her.

She looked up in surprise.

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with affection. “Look at your feet and you’ll see that this kind of pressure isn’t a true motivation for you. And when did your dream become about me, rather than figure skating itself?”

Shuran froze.

She suddenly remembered someone had once said something similar to her.

Samantha: You seem different.

Samantha: Your skills have improved, but I can’t congratulate you—your performance has lost its soul.

In a flash, the tangled threads surrounding her were unraveled by Fu Yiqing’s words. She found the root of the problem.

Her dream was figure skating—to stand on the highest podium, to demonstrate the beauty of the sport through her own efforts.

He was right. When had she unconsciously changed her goal?

As Fu Yiqing said, two years ago she didn’t understand what this wager meant, nor what he endured for the sake of artistic beauty in skating. But now, she finally understood.

The art of figure skating is in the sweat shed in pursuit of Olympic dreams, and in the heartfelt desire to give audiences true, sincere performances.

Shuran’s mind cleared as if a veil had been lifted.

All her fears vanished.

Her scattered thoughts coalesced; the person before her merged with the Shuran of the past. Her spirit returned, her gaze steadied—her goal, unchanged.

A gentle smile curved her lips. “I understand now!”

“So, can you tell me your answer?”

“I…”

Before she could finish, her phone rang.

As she picked it up, Fu Yiqing glimpsed the caller ID: Qin Liubei.

The caller wasted no time; Shuran answered without a word, simply listening, then handed the phone to Fu Yiqing.

“He said you didn’t pick up when he called you.”

Fu Yiqing hadn’t been in his room—of course he hadn’t answered.

He gritted his teeth. “What is it?”

“You don’t sound too happy. Did you argue with Shuran again?” There was a moment of silence, then Qin Liubei continued, “I just noticed there are two promising new skaters in the Challenger Series. Their overall scores weren’t great, but one is called Lowa, the other’s name is Jo…”

Fu Yiqing interrupted, “Didn’t you say those stats were meaningless?”

“Don’t say that. Maybe they’re not significant, but it’s good to be aware.”

“What about them?”

Whatever Qin Liubei said next made Fu Yiqing’s impatience vanish in an instant. He glanced instinctively at Shuran.

She mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

His temples throbbed as he told Qin Liubei, “Say that again.”

He switched the phone to speaker.

“These two just moved up to the senior division. Their results in the first two events weren’t great, but I just heard that this Lowa landed a 4T.”

Shuran was so astonished she couldn’t speak for a long moment. Unexpectedly, Fu Yiqing chose this time to joke.

“Now, do you feel motivated?”

Shuran was speechless.