When Qiao Nan was about to take the ice, she was suddenly stopped by Zhang Lezhang. She glanced in surprise at the man standing in front of Qian Hongdou, then looked back at Cheng Cheng following silently behind her, her eyes full of confusion. 

To just openly poach someone right in front of the coach—was he really that bold, or just out of patience… or maybe just crazy? 

Tuan Tuan showed up at just the right time and explained to the girl. 

“This coach has tried to steal Cheng Cheng away more times than you can count on one hand.” 

So offending Cheng Cheng didn’t really bother Zhang Lezhang that much. 

The girl understood but had no intention of getting into a deep conversation with this coach. 

“Sorry, I need to get to my competition now,” she said, glancing toward the rink as a polite way to decline. 

Zhang Lezhang didn’t stop Qiao Nan. 

“I’ll wait for you.” The man smiled, pulled out a lollipop from his pocket, and handed it to Qiao Nan. “Don’t worry, the conditions I offer won’t disappoint you.” 

“So now, poachers don’t even do background checks anymore?” 

Qiao Nan watched Zhang Lezhang walk away, speechless. 

“What’s the difference between him and a bad uncle bribing kids with candy?” 

And the lollipop wasn’t even a good one, yet he claimed his offer would be satisfying. 

Zhang Lezhang would never know that Qiao Nan had completely rejected him the moment they first met. 

The young girl clicked her tongue, watched as Qian Hongdou and Zhang Lezhang had already walked down the aisle, then quickly came back to herself and tossed the lollipop to Cheng Cheng nearby. 

“Coach Cheng, want some candy?” she smiled, then quickly ran toward the check-in area. 

Thanks to Coach Cheng’s backstage help, even though her ranking put her in the last group, she was lucky to be the first to skate in that final group. 

Yes, once again, she was first. 

With her coach’s help, she seemed destined to always be tied to first place. 

✵✵✵ 

For her free skate, the little girl chose a modified Hanfu costume. 

A white crossed-collar top, with a white jacket edged in red worn over it, red and white flowing ribbons tied around the waist, and a red skirt. 

Although the Hanfu was redesigned somewhat, it still kept most of the traditional elements. 

Qiao Nan’s program was titled “The Battle March of Prince Lanling,” a traditional drum music piece originating from Northern Qi dynasty. 

Compared to the vintage style she used in the short program, her free skate choice was obviously bolder. 

She even picked a song most people in the country probably hadn’t heard of. 

“Next up, provincial team’s Qiao Nan, program: ‘The Battle March of Prince Lanling.’” 

The announcer called her name, and Qiao Nan stepped onto the ice, gliding slowly to the spot she had marked yesterday. 

She wore a silver mask, hands raised diagonally, ready to start. 

She had underestimated how sensitive her immune system was—just a small bit of face paint from two days ago had caused her to have allergies for over a day. 

So the original plan to paint half her face for the free skate was scrapped. 

At Xie Luoying’s request, the girl took a step back and replaced the face paint with a silver mask. 

To keep it from falling off, the mask was wired tightly to her headpiece. 

Her mom styled her hair into two small buns, carefully securing a string of tassels on one side after making sure the mask was firmly in place. 

For some reason, seeing herself fully dressed up made Qiao Nan feel a bit weird. 

It felt like she wasn’t playing the role in the song but more like a little deity bringing blessings. 

She looked down and silently counted the beats as the music started. 

“The Battle March of Prince Lanling” praises Prince Lanling’s military achievements and virtues. It was popular during the Tang dynasty and spread to Japan. 

The song was once lost in China but was revived in the 1980s with help from Japanese experts, and it was performed as a tribute at Prince Lanling’s tomb. 

Originally, the piece was for a solo male dance. Since Qiao Nan chose it, she naturally adapted the choreography. 

She decided to play the lead role, Gao Changgong—a famous general rumored to have worn a mask into battle because of his strikingly handsome face. 

The music opened with a burst of dense drumbeats, and the girl who had been standing still began to gradually circle the rink in time with the drums. 

The drumbeats accelerated, marking the time for her to speed up and prepare for the first jump. 

The seven jumps in the free skate were tightly arranged by Merlin at the changes in the song’s rhythm. Because of the interference from the drumbeats, it was particularly challenging to match the overall musicality. 

But Qiao Nan managed to get through these steps. 

With double her usual stamina, even though some jumps weren’t perfect, she managed to keep the rhythm well. 

She didn’t realize it, but this already put her ahead of almost every other skater her age. 

She did a two-turn hand catch, a double back outside edge, a double back inside edge, a one-and-a-half Axel, and more. 

Because she focused more on the footwork after the jumps, her jump execution was decent but nothing outstanding—the GOE scores weren’t very high. 

Merlin was famous for his choreography of connecting steps, 

and this piece was no exception. 

The choreography featured a rhythmically moderate section where pipa and drums interweave—a perfect moment for the girl to show off her footwork skills. 

Just like before, she started with fast serrated steps, quickly moving into outside edge Choctaws, followed by a bowing step, then shifting rapidly into a rock step. 

Her arms stretched out from inside to outside, fingertips slightly curled, flowing gracefully as she struck the various poses Merlin had designed. 

This song was paired with classical dance in its purest form. 

To fully express the essence of classical dance, the little girl even followed behind Cheng Shishi, quickly picking up many moves like cramming for an exam. 

Like hand gestures, body posture, and steps. 

The most standout elements of classical dance are probably the shaking steps and those big, dramatic bends at the waist. On the ice, Qiao Nan chose to show that unique feeling with lots of crossed rock steps. 

But after all, as a substitute, the expression naturally can’t compare to the original. 

It’s more like adding a bit of extra flavor to the moves. 

Fortunately, with the system’s support, Qiao Nan’s stamina had improved somewhat. Otherwise, with such an intense program, she would have been the first to break down. 

Her final move was a squat spin that flowed right into a Biellmann spin. 

According to Merlin, the idea behind this move was to highlight the main character gradually shining bright from the mud. 

But to Qiao Nan, it felt more like a peacock spreading its feathers and asking the audience for plush toys.

Because after changing the face decoration, her ending changed from a classical dance pose to taking off a mask. 

And thanks to Cheng Cheng’s mischievous request, Qiao Nan gave the audience a wink. 

The mask was tied on tight with wire, and even though there was a little elastic at the connection point, she almost got stuck trying to pull it off during the move. 

Then, as the camera swept over, she quickly switched her expression and nailed the wink. 

Qiao Nan thought, “Who designed this move?! Is this just making things hard for me, Fat Tiger?” 

But it looked like the performance wasn’t over yet. 

Just as she was about to leave, a familiar shout came from the crowd. 

“панда!” (panda) 

Qiao Nan instinctively turned back, and the audience, led by Carlos, began tossing plush toys at her.

They looked super familiar—obviously from that claw machine she’d emptied out with Carlos before. 

Judging by how the crowd acted, it seemed like Carlos had planned this in advance. 

Seeing this rare “plush toy rain,” she didn’t know whether to feel touched or just laugh.

Was she really at odds with pandas now? 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a plush toy rain before—her family had asked if she wanted any before her short program, but she’d refused, saying she was too embarrassed.

Still, even if it was unexpected, seeing it this way was kind of nice. 

She stepped forward and picked up the closest panda. 

It was a panda doll dressed in a red-and-white Tang suit. When she got it two days ago, her first thought was that it was really ugly. 

But today— 

She looked down at what she was wearing. 

Red and white, with two little buns on top of her head. 

No way, she felt this was hinting at something.