“Interested? In what?” 

With Wang Li Lin’s hint, Cheng Cheng finally got a good look at the talented kid he mentioned—and he happened to catch the full program. 

He had to admit, despite being so young, the girl’s skills on the ice were easily on par with the nine- and ten-year-olds on B City’s provincial team. Just like Wang Li Lin said, she really was the most promising kid they’d seen in recent years. 

But talent aside, Cheng Cheng didn’t miss the old man who greeted the girl earlier. 

“You saw who her coach is, right?” Cheng Cheng sighed. “That’s Marlon Connor coaching her.” 

“Marlon might be retired now, but any family who can get him to come all the way to China for one-on-one coaching… you think we’ve got a shot with this kid?” 

Marlon Connor was a top-tier coach, basically a legend, and way out of their league. Compared to Cheng Cheng’s proudest achievement, a national championship win, Marlon’s students could bury him in World Championship medals, never mind all the others. 

“Brother Cheng,” Wang Li Lin hesitated for a moment before continuing, “The kid doesn’t seem to be signed with any domestic club.” 

“I know what our club’s capable of. If she wants to go professional, the best path here in China would be through a provincial team or Wildfire.” 

Most figure skating competitions have strict nationality quotas. In China, international slots are awarded based on national team rankings. So if Qiao Nan wants to compete internationally or even nationally, she’ll need to be affiliated with a recognized team. 

Wang Li Lin wasn’t wrong. If Qiao Nan’s serious about going professional and doesn’t want to join the national team just yet, her best bets are either a provincial team or Wildfire—the top club in the country. 

“Wildfire? They don’t do honorary sign-ons,” Cheng Cheng scoffed. “You saw how they trained for the club league.” 

Despite being a top-tier club with loads of talent, Wildfire had a bad reputation in coaching circles. 

Their head coach was overly strict, pushing skaters through grueling training schedules. Sure, it boosted short-term results, but for kids still growing, the risks of long-term injury were too high. Most coaches saw it as unsustainable—a shortcut that backfired in the long run. 

Too much training too soon often led to injuries. Kids might manage double jumps early on, but by the time they were expected to level up to triples, their bodies couldn’t keep up. Outside of a few who had solid foundations before joining, Cheng Cheng couldn’t think of anyone Wildfire had truly developed from scratch. 

“Even if I were thirty years younger, I wouldn’t touch that kind of ‘hell training.’” He clapped his old colleague on the shoulder. “This kind of talent doesn’t come around often. I’ll talk to our higher-ups—B City doesn’t have anyone on the roster right now. Not sure if they’ll go for it though.” 

Other provinces had long embraced honorary sign-ons, but B City’s leadership was still clinging to their “original values.” Even as their ranking slipped year after year, they refused to budge—or even open up more rink time. 

Cheng Cheng didn’t need to spell it out. Wang Li Lin hadn’t been in B City’s team long, but he knew how things worked. 

“Alright, I’ll check with the kid once we get the green light,” Wang Li Lin nodded. Then he remembered something and added, “But we better hurry—Qiao Nan mentioned she might be heading abroad soon.” 

“Abroad?” Cheng Cheng looked confused. “It’s not even December yet. What’s she going abroad for?” 

“Russia, I think?” Wang Li Lin wasn’t too sure—he’d only heard it in passing. “Doesn’t sound like a competition. She’s not even seven. Probably going for extra training.” 

Qiao Nan hadn’t listened to the two coaches for long—she only heard her name mentioned before Marlon Connor called her over. 

She shuffled over with her little folding stool and sat neatly behind Coach Marlon, watching him play around with the goji berries in his cup like some kind of tea circus act. Once he was satisfied, he casually poured flat Sprite into the thermos. 

Marlon moved smoothly the whole time, but Qiao Nan couldn’t help the twitch forming in her forehead. 

Cheng Cheng was right—anyone who could hire Marlon Connor clearly wasn’t short on cash. But what he probably wouldn’t believe was that it wasn’t money that convinced Marlon to coach her. 

It was actually because the first time they met, Qiao Nan couldn’t help but criticize his awful tea-making skills. 

“Coach,” she finally said, unable to hold it in, “your blood sugar is already too high.” 

“That’s why I added goji berries,” Marlon said, completely unfazed. He took a sip, then smoothly changed the topic. “How’s your arm? You didn’t look great on the ice today.” 

“If you keep skating like that, you’re not going to be ready for the Volin Memorial.” 

Qiao Nan, with the memories of her past twenty-something-year-old self still intact, didn’t find first grade all that challenging. She’d promised to stay in school for exams—but that was mostly because her recent attempt at a new double flip had landed her a mild fracture. 

She’d caught herself with her hand when she fell, and ended up in a splint and thick brace around her wrist. Writing was a struggle, let alone falling again. 

Naturally, the plan she’d secretly made to master her double flip (2F) this year had to be put on pause. 

With her arm hurt, both her usually chill parents and her coach were surprisingly on the same page: no skating until she was fully healed. Aside from some light off-ice training, everything else was on hold. 

And that training? Boiled down to her least favorite stuff—1,000-meter runs, jumping jacks, and other stamina and leg power drills. 

If it weren’t for that Volin Memorial slot, she’d probably be arguing with her parents over the fracture already. 

The Volin Memorial was a kid-focused competition in Russia, for ages 6 to 13. They split it into younger and older groups. It didn’t count toward official rankings, more of an exhibition meet—but unlike most Russian competitions, it didn’t restrict foreign entries. Top clubs and coaches around the world got invites. 

Even though Marlon had retired this year, the organizers still sent him one. 

When Marlon decided to retire, he’d already started phasing out his contracts—handing over even short-term trainees to other coaches. By the time he agreed to coach Qiao Nan, he was totally free of commitments. 

In Marlon’s eyes, the Volin Memorial wasn’t a big deal, but for Qiao Nan, it was a perfect chance to show what she could do. 

She could already land four types of double jumps, but had never really performed publicly. No matter how solid she looked in practice, competition was different. Until she got on a real stage, even Marlon wasn’t sure how she’d handle it. 

“Qiao, you need to adjust your condition quickly,” the old man sighed, pulling out a tablet and queuing up her music. “I’m heading back to Canada for a bit. I sent the music to your parents already. Merlin’s coming next week to choreograph—you’d better get familiar with the program.” 

He paused, then added, “And don’t skip your runs. I’m going to remind your parents.” 

If Qiao Nan’s flexibility was a gift from heaven, then her stamina was definitely her biggest weakness. 

Even with Marlon watching her like a hawk, she couldn’t last more than fifteen minutes of casual jumps. 

Not just Marlon—even she couldn’t believe how bad it was. 

With her level of exercise, if her parents hadn’t explained that she was weak since birth, the girl would have suspected the dormant system she was forced to bind to upon reincarnation was sabotaging her. 

But considering that poor system hadn’t even sent her a message in a month, if her energy was somehow being drained to patch that thing up, she couldn’t even be mad about it. 

“I understand,” the girl replied with a bitter face. She secretly glanced at the screen of the tablet in Marlon’s hand and caught the name of her own song precisely. 

Then her expression grew even more pained. 

“Coach, are we really going with Carmen?” 

Sure, every figure skater ends up skating to Carmen at some point, and Qiao Nan had already mentally prepared herself for it after being reborn. But having it as her first program of the season? She couldn’t help but feel a bit resistant. 

It wasn’t for no reason. In her past life, the final program she ever skated—right before she died—was, ironically, also Carmen. 

She had trained for a whole season just for that performance, only to unexpectedly pass away at the last moment. So yeah… the piece kind of gave her PTSD. 

“What else then?” Coach Marlon, for once, put on a serious face. With a few swift motions of his slightly wrinkled hand, he swiped through his tablet. “Take a look at what you picked out for me.” 

Even though Qiao Nan was still young, Coach Marlon had made it a point to involve her in the music selection when he first told her she’d be skating at the Volin Memorial. 

But the second he saw her suggestions, he didn’t hesitate to reject every single one. 

“Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, New World Symphony, Radetzky March, Can-Can…” 

“Qiao Nan, with your stamina, if you try keeping up with the tempo of any of those pieces, are you planning to stay back at school for another semester?” 

Author’s Note: 

✵ The “Volin Memorial” is loosely based on Russia’s Volkov Memorial and the Cup of Peter the Great. The competition setup is slightly altered—it’s not a national team scouting event here. Only free skate is featured, and technical elements follow ISU junior rules (more on that later). 

✵ Goji berries are good for your eyes and can help lower blood sugar, but the way Marlon is drinking it? Yeah, something’s definitely off there (just saying). 

✵ Nan Nan will be going back to train in her home country soon—probably after Cheng Cheng and the boss finish their little “heart-to-heart” talks.