Chapter Sixty-Nine: A Nightmare

After Xu Jingyu finished her shower, she sat down beside Shu Ran. “Once we finish chatting, I’ll head back to my room.”

Shu Ran welcomed her warmly. “Why don’t we sleep together tonight?”

“That won’t do. What if I accidentally roll over and press on your leg?”

Seeing Xu Jingyu’s insistence, Shu Ran didn’t push the matter.

Just as Shu Ran enthusiastically lifted her quilt to invite Xu Jingyu in, a knock sounded at the door.

“Are you asleep?”

The two glanced at each other, and Xu Jingyu’s lips curved in a faint smile. “Alright, we’ll have time to chat tomorrow. I’ll leave the rest of the evening to Fu Yiqing.”

With that, Xu Jingyu walked over, opened the door, and slipped past Fu Yiqing, leaving the room.

Fu Yiqing stood at the doorway and knocked again. “May I come in?”

“It’s fine, come in,” Shu Ran replied, about to get up. But Fu Yiqing’s brow furrowed, and he stopped her before she could move. “Stay lying down.”

His expression was serious, brooking no argument.

Obediently, Shu Ran lay back—more accurately, she was cowed into compliance by Fu Yiqing’s stern gaze.

Fu Yiqing sat at the edge of the bed before finally speaking. “If you’re sure about competing in the World Championships, you’ll need to change your free skate program.”

Shu Ran’s eyes widened. “Change it?”

To change a program so close to the competition, with only a month left to train, was a risk even top figure skaters wouldn’t dare to take.

But soon, Shu Ran understood this was a decision she could not avoid. The intensity of the free skate was too much—a 4-minute 43-second piece with more than three minutes of variations, each growing faster and more complex. The latter 2 minutes and 21.5 seconds would be lethal for her injured state. If she didn’t change the program, she might not even finish the competition, let alone place in the top twelve.

“What about the short program?” Shu Ran quickly realized the issue.

Her short program, “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” had many martial arts movements. Even though the choreography had softened the sharpness with dance, the physical demands and difficulty were now far beyond her.

Fu Yiqing said, “We can replace all the short program’s movements with dance and adjust the difficulty as needed. But the free skate’s problem lies with the music itself, so it must be changed. As for what to change it to, I’ll think it over in the next two days. During this month of recovery, we’ll focus on the artistic content of the new program, and return to the ice the following month.”

Shu Ran nodded.

Fu Yiqing added, “Then… get some rest early.”

“Coach Fu!” Shu Ran called out as he was about to leave. “Let’s use Bach’s ‘Air on the G String.’”

Fu Yiqing turned, momentarily taken aback.

She bit her lip. “No matter what, it’s a gamble. Let me try.”

Shu Ran was nervous. She suddenly remembered Fu Yiqing once told Qin Liubei she was still too young, hadn’t experienced true setbacks, and so could not understand the heartbreak when Bach’s violin strings were ruined—nor the proud, unyielding spirit of a genius like Bach, who held his head high and refused to surrender.

Fu Yiqing’s gaze fell on Shu Ran’s hand gripping the quilt outside the covers. Her knuckles were white, brows knit in anxiety.

“Alright,” he said earnestly. “I think you’re finally at the point where you can interpret this piece more deeply.”

Shu Ran looked up at him in surprise, staring for a long moment, speechless.

Qin Liubei left the next day, but Xu Jingyu stayed at the villa to keep Shu Ran company.

Once, Shu Ran had found skating tedious. Now that she couldn’t skate, she missed it desperately.

After three days of rest, Auntie Zhang returned, and Xu Jingyu went back to D City.

Before leaving, Fu Yiqing repeatedly instructed her not to let anyone in D City know about Shu Ran’s injury, and Xu Jingyu assured him she wouldn’t let it slip.

Shu Ran couldn’t train on the ice, but artistic training didn’t require skating.

Every morning after waking, Shu Ran would listen to “Air on the G String.”

Fu Yiqing even found a live concert recording by a certain musician performing Bach, and the two of them watched it together on the sofa.

The notes drifting from the strings seemed to weep and lament, touching the listener’s soul. The musician, standing alone on stage, seemed possessed by Bach for that moment—head held high, chest out, immersed in the music, drawing the bow slowly, just like Bach centuries ago, betrayed and forced to stand alone before the court’s nobles. Some awaited his beautiful music; others watched, hoping for him to make a fool of himself. But Bach gave those skeptics a resounding slap, proving his irreplaceable genius in music.

They say geniuses are lonely, but perhaps they relish that solitude.

Bach was one of them.

Shu Ran watched the music videos for several days before starting her own training.

Fortunately, she had learned two free skate programs when choreographing in July, so she didn’t need to memorize new movements.

Thus, Shu Ran began her own training—in her mind.

Listening to the music, Shu Ran closed her eyes and imagined standing on the ice.

She couldn’t use her foot, so she practiced the arm movements.

One by one, she rehearsed the motions, committing each to memory.

Since her injury required extra protein and vitamins, Shu Ran no longer had to restrict her diet for weight control.

Auntie Zhang, worried for her, showed her care by making delicious meals.

Mealtime became a new, unfamiliar happiness for Shu Ran.

Cradling her bowl, her eyes shone. “It’s such a blessing to eat Auntie Zhang’s food every day.”

“If you like it, I’ll make it for you every day,” Auntie Zhang replied, delighted.

But one day, Auntie Zhang suddenly had an urgent family matter and needed to leave for two days.

She was anxious but worried about leaving Shu Ran alone.

When Shu Ran found out, she urged Auntie Zhang to go. “It’s fine, I still have Coach Fu here.”

Auntie Zhang frowned. “But Mr. Fu is a man; it’s not convenient.”

“It’s really okay. I can take care of myself. Besides bathing, Coach Fu can help with everything—and for bathing, I can sit and wash. That’s what I did when Xu Jingyu visited.”

Hearing this, Auntie Zhang was finally persuaded. “Alright, I’ll really go home then. Or should I find someone else to help?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. And I can’t let too many people know about my injury.”

Auntie Zhang nodded in understanding, quickly packed up, and left the villa.

That day, Fu Yiqing was at the rink, leaving Shu Ran alone at home.

With no one else in the house, Shu Ran sat on the bed, listening to music and reading.

When she grew tired of that, she lay down and practiced her mental training.

Unknowingly, she drifted into sleep.

She vaguely heard someone calling her name, and on waking, she saw Fu Yiqing.

“The competition’s about to start. Get up and do your makeup.”

Shu Ran was stunned. “But I’m still injured—the month isn’t over yet!”

But Fu Yiqing kept urging her. She got up and, as soon as her foot touched the ground, found herself already on the ice.

She performed to the music, each movement sending pain shooting up her leg. She fell countless times but finally finished her program. Sitting in the kiss-and-cry area, she saw her score flash on the screen.

“Zero.”

Shu Ran was frozen. Only then did she realize this music wasn’t even her competition piece.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she was surrounded—by reporters and bystanders.

Pointing at her, they shouted, “Shu Ran, you’ve brought shame to our country!”

“I’m not…” she tried to protest, helpless, tears streaming down her face.

“Shu Ran!”

Someone grabbed her shoulders, shaking her fiercely as if they bore a lifelong grudge.

“Shu Ran?” The voice suddenly softened.

The sound became clearer in her ears.

Shu Ran opened her eyes, still groggy, and at the sight of Fu Yiqing, burst into tears.

Fu Yiqing was momentarily startled, then instinctively pulled her into his arms, patting her back gently. “It’s alright, it was just a dream.”

The dream had felt so real that Shu Ran was sobbing uncontrollably. “I dreamed I got a zero at the competition, everyone was blaming me, and no one would believe a word I said.”

“Silly girl,” Fu Yiqing said with a mix of amusement and concern, stroking her hair. “It was only a dream.”

Even knowing this, Shu Ran couldn’t help but cry for a while, lingering in the nightmare’s emotions.

Once she’d calmed down, Fu Yiqing asked, “What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook for you.”

Her lashes still sparkled with tears as she blinked, dazed. “You’ll cook? Where’s Auntie Zhang?”

As soon as she asked, she remembered Auntie Zhang had gone home.

She licked her lips. “Anything is fine.”

Fu Yiqing wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “There’s no dish called ‘anything.’”

“Then…” Shu Ran started, but after a long pause, still couldn’t name anything, so Fu Yiqing tapped her nose with a laugh. “I’ll see what’s in the fridge.”

He stood, then glanced back. “What about you? Will you wait here for dinner, or come downstairs with me?”

“If I lie here any longer, I’ll waste away completely.”

“I’ll carry you.”

Having grown used to being carried by Fu Yiqing these days, Shu Ran didn’t protest. She tossed back the covers and braced herself against the bed, leaning toward him.

With one long arm, Fu Yiqing swept her up into his embrace.

Shu Ran wrapped her arms around his neck, her right foot raised.

She’d lived in Fu Yiqing’s home for so long, yet he rarely cooked—Auntie Zhang handled almost every meal, and when she was absent, Qin Liubei took over.

Now, Shu Ran sat on the sofa, watching the kitchen.

Fu Yiqing, tall and broad-shouldered, cut a striking figure even as he washed vegetables. He looked like the lead in a TV drama chef scene. His movements weren’t exactly skilled, but he was easy on the eyes.

Since it was late, Fu Yiqing quickly whipped up three simple dishes: stir-fried tomato and eggs, braised river shrimp, and sautéed broccoli.

Shu Ran’s chopsticks reached only for the tomato and eggs, but as soon as she took a bite, a shrimp appeared in her bowl. She eyed it as if facing a dire threat.

“It’s river shrimp, not seafood,” Fu Yiqing explained.