“The Drunken Imperial Concubine” is one of the most iconic Peking Opera performances from the Mei School, and “The New Drunken Imperial Concubine” is a modern adaptation of it. 

Because the music comes from Peking opera, extra care was taken with the costume and styling for the young girl. 

Although there was already a rough design for the costume, after finalizing the music selection, Qiao Nan still subtly suggested some modifications to her mom. On top of the original gold-and-red palette, they added a sheer layer of emerald blue and subtle peony motifs on the shoulders. 

Before marrying Qiao Nan’s father, Xie Luoying was a famous fashion designer. Even though she’s now the head of the Qiao Group, she still runs her own design studio. 

Thanks to sufficient financial backing, her studio produces few works regularly, but each is a masterpiece. If it weren’t for only offering private custom orders, it would almost be considered a top-tier fashion brand in China. 

With such a studio at hand, all of the young girl’s costume modification requests were easily fulfilled. 

In fact, after hearing Qiao Nan’s creative ideas, the designers even helped refine the design and added a small, embroidered panda on the waistband—an idea that came from the ever-resourceful Xie Luoying herself. 

And it really showed. After the studio’s specialized alterations, the costume wasn’t just more intricate with new embroidery; it also looked more cohesive and dynamic. 

At a glance, it was obvious that her costume was in a league of its own compared to other clubs’ standard-issue outfits. 

The costume was sorted out smoothly, but Qiao Nan had another problem. 

On the last day of official training, Qiao Nan participated in a full-dress rehearsal for the first time. 

Since her theme was related to Peking Opera, her makeup incorporated several elements from the classic “Concubine” look. She didn’t go full stage makeup with heavy greasepaint, but her face still bore some symbolic features. 

She went through the entire rehearsal with no complaints, but when Xie Luoying gently wiped away the makeup from her forehead, a rash had already formed. 

Because Qiao Nan was born premature, her immune system had always been a bit weak. Although she’d become energetic and physically strong over the years, she was still prone to allergic reactions. 

This allergic reaction would gradually improve with age. Compared to her childhood when she was allergic to everything, it was much better now. 

“Does it itch?” Her mom sighed as she dabbed a wet wipe gently on her red forehead. “Do you want to switch to regular makeup?” 

Because she was competing, Qiao Nan couldn’t take any anti-allergy medication. If she continued using the greasepaint for the opera-style look, she’d have to endure the itchiness for half a day. 

But regular makeup just didn’t have the same visual impact as stage greasepaint. 

“It’s okay, I can bear it,” Qiao Nan shook her head, declining her mother’s kindness. 

In the end, she still went on the ice wearing a thick layer of greasepaint. 

She didn’t use the full original backing track of The New Drunken Imperial Concubine. On Cheng Cheng’s suggestion, they incorporated elements of guqin and guzheng into the main melody—their clear and distinctive tones made it easier to match movement to music. 

Standing on the ice, she confirmed her balance one last time, lifted her head, glanced upward, and her gaze gradually became focused. 

Zheng— 

The music began. The rink fell silent. The girl raised her arms behind her and started her program. 

✵✵✵ 

This program’s choreography was again arranged by Merlin. After the choreography ended, when Qiao Nan and Cheng Cheng sent Merlin off, the tall man’s sorrowful little eyes made the young girl feel like a heartless person, as if she had fully used up the famous choreographer’s value and then discarded him. 

But once she returned to the provincial team and saw the full choreography plan from Cheng Cheng, she had a change of heart. 

Qiao Nan: Sorry, I overthought it. The one who always gets injured is me. 

The short program was just two and a half minutes long, give or take ten seconds. In that time, she had to complete three jumps, two spins, and one step sequence—all matching the music. 

Merlin’s choreography was still insanely difficult. After learning about Qiao Nan’s current general level, the man added many body-coordination-intensive connecting steps in the program arranged for Cheng Cheng. Although these steps consume a lot of energy, the effect was indeed beautiful when wearing the costume. 

Perhaps because of the endurance training during this period, compared to the last time when she was exhausted to the point of collapse, Qiao Nan clearly felt much lighter this time. 

At least her jumps, once described by Marlon as “ice chiseling,” now resembled actual toe picks.  

Though there were still flaws, they were much fewer. 

Her skating speed was fast, and the sheer fabric of her costume fluttered with the wind. As she pushed off forcefully from the ice, it lifted along with her. 

A stable Axel one-and-a-half rotation (1A) with the right back outside edge connecting to a Mohawk and then to a left front outside takeoff was placed first by Merlin. 

Qiao Nan realized just how obsessed Merlin was with her stamina—no matter how much energy she had, Merlin’s choreography drained it completely. 

The Axel one-and-a-half rotation, a double loop-double toe combination jump (2Lz+2T), a double flip (2F)—fortunately, Qiao Nan’s stamina barely reached the passing line of 30; otherwise, with Merlin’s choreography pushing her to her highest limit, even this young girl might not have been able to handle it. 

While other coaches aimed for safe, reliable programs, her coach seemed determined to push her into doing a full double Axel one day. 

The girl suddenly stopped, turned around, took a few steps forward on her blades, raised her hand, and made a gesture as if holding an imaginary wine glass. 

Then, still holding the toast pose, she switched to a rocking step, skating toward the front row of judges, then stretched her arms forward and changed her gesture to covering her face. 

The dance “The Drunken Imperial Concubine” was composed of a mix of blade steps and rocking steps forming the character for “drunk.” 

Credit to Merlin—a foreigner, no less—for diving so deep into Eastern culture just to choreograph this. 

And it wasn’t over. He wasn’t done torturing her yet. 

The guqin played again. Qiao Nan crossed her legs and dipped into a hydroblading move. 

Her blade wasn’t too deep, and her center of gravity wasn’t especially low, but due to her petite frame, the ribbons on her costume brushed the ice and picked up glittery frost. 

She mentally counted the beats, then lifted her head right on cue. Just as the camera caught her face, she flashed a fleeting smile, stood up, turned around, and hit the final beat of the chorus with her last element. 

The signature sit-spin with a jump entry. 

Her red costume twirled mid-air, and the rhinestones hidden in the skirt glittered for a moment—just long enough to make an impression before fading out as she gradually slowed to a stop. 

She lifted her head and looked up toward the sky. 

The venue remained silent, but watching the girl complete the full program smoothly, Cheng Cheng finally relaxed the tension he’d been holding. 

Qiao Nan was clearly more competition-oriented. Compared to rehearsals in the team before, today’s performance still had some flaws but was much better. 

“Coach Cheng, you’ve really done a good job training this student,” Zhang Lezhang commented from the side again. 

This time, Cheng Cheng didn’t snap back. 

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said calmly, glancing at Zhang Lezhang without engaging further, then walked off with the blade guards in hand to meet Qiao Nan. 

Her exposed forehead was even redder now. 

“Just hang in there a bit longer. Once your score comes out, we’ll go remove the makeup.” Cheng Cheng sighed and handed her an ice pack. “Still itchy?” 

“Mm.” Qiao Nan nodded. 

Post-performance Qiao Nan was incredibly obedient—answering every question like a perfect little student. It made Cheng Cheng feel both heartache and some frustration. 

“If it’s itchy, why still use the greasepaint?” he muttered, carefully placing the ice on her forehead. 

“Let’s head to the Kiss & Cry.” 

The ice wouldn’t stop the itching, but it could numb the nerves a bit. Qiao Nan knew she’d annoyed her coach, so she didn’t talk back, just nodded and followed him to the corner setup. 

The Kiss and Cry area at the city-level competition had no special decoration, just two chairs standing there, looking quite shabby at first glance. 

Qiao Nan sat obediently, holding the ice pack and waiting for her scores. Meanwhile, Cheng Cheng took the moment to glance over at the preparation area. 

Zhang Lezhang, who’d been sticking close all day, was nowhere in sight now; instead, Cheng’s former student Qian Hongdou had appeared. 

Chances were; after seeing Qiao Nan’s performance, he was heading back to request more funding to poach her. 

Cheng Cheng had seen Zhang Lezhang’s antics far too many times. At this point, the man didn’t even feel a ripple when he disappeared. 

But seeing Qian Hongdou all alone somehow stung a bit. 

As he was lost in thought, the audience gasped. Cheng Cheng looked up—Qiao Nan’s score had appeared on the screen. 

Technical Element Score (TES): 19.95 
Program Component Score (PCS): 40.33 
Total Score: 60.28 

Qiao Nan had just barely made the cutoff for the youngest C group, yet her score surpassed many skaters in the youngest A group. Although it was a city-level competition, this score was outstanding compared to others. 

The judges seemed particularly optimistic about Qiao Nan; Cheng Cheng had already guessed this from watching the real-time GOE. 

“Well done,” he said, smiling and patting her shoulder. 

Though some judges had personal subjective biases, there was no denying the girl’s great progress over the past six months. 

Take that sit-spin entry from Jasmine Flower, for example. Before, her free leg couldn’t even stay straight. Now, her execution was actually starting to look graceful. 

“Go rest for now,” Cheng Cheng helped press her forehead again, thinking about her free skate program in two days, and sighed. 

They’d completely overlooked her allergy while planning the makeup. 

The makeup paint was heavy in color, which naturally enhanced the artistic effect more than other materials. 

To fully express emotions, the makeup paint for the free skate in two days would be even heavier than today. 

“You have a competition in two days, be careful.” 

“If it’s too much, we’ll change the material.” 

“I know.” Qiao Nan was a perfectionist when it came to her programs, but even she didn’t want to experience this allergy again. 

She took a few steps toward the exit but paused when she didn’t see Cheng Cheng following. 

“Coach?” 

“You go ahead,” Cheng Cheng smiled and turned back to the rink. 

Zhang Lezhang had reappeared in the preparation area, and the skater now on the ice was someone Cheng knew very well. 

Qian Hongdou—the one who had walked away from him for a lucrative contract with Jixing Club. 

✵✵✵ 

Qiao Nan left the venue pretty quickly. For a child with allergies, staying quietly on the competition ice was almost impossible. 

Apart from Qiao Nan, the skill levels of the next few groups of skaters were all decent, but none were outstanding. The audience, who had been charmed by the mini version of “The New Drunken Imperial Concubine,” gradually lost enthusiasm after watching several ordinary performances.

By the time they snapped back to attention and tried to find the skater who had stunned everyone at the start, the only one left in view was Cheng Cheng, who was rolling up his sleeves, seemingly ready to fight Zhang Lezhang. 

Most of the spectators were figure skating fans or family of the skaters. Many already knew about the long-standing grudge between Cheng Cheng and Zhang Lezhang—even if they hadn’t seen it in person, it had been all over the Ice & Snow forums. 

The Ice and Snow Forum was the main gathering place for most fans. Back in the early 2000s, when everyone used desktop computers, it was considered the home base for figure skating lovers. 

Nobody was really surprised by the feud—if anything, they were just curious why Zhang Lezhang only ever seemed to go after Cheng Cheng. 

It had been months since either of them had shown up in forum gossip. 

But now, with this little girl under Cheng Cheng’s wing, his name was finally back on Ice & Snow again. 

【Did anyone see the first girl who performed today at the Beijing Youth Competition?】 

【NO.0: As the topic says, apparently she is under Coach Cheng, and I heard she’s only seven? I’m a newbie here, can some experts tell me how talented this kid is?】 

【NO.1: Seven years old? Are you serious? A seven-year-old can do a double loop? Are you stupid or crazy?】 

【NO.2: You really are new, huh? In our country, landing a double loop at eight is enough to get you scouted for the national team. So yeah, a seven-year-old doing that is pretty crazy. She’s in the C-level kindergarten division, so she’s still young, but super talented. Probably around the same level as Qian Hongdou back in the day.】 

【NO.6: Qian Hongdou? That kid skyrocketed after joining Jixing Club, right? Judging from today’s performance, she’s working on her double loop and getting ready to take on the double Axel.】 

【NO.7: You must be a newbie. Qian Hongdou is known in our forum as a kid who got ruined by coaching after joining Jixing. Jixing wanted to promote itself with Qian’s triple Axel attempts, but their vision was too narrow. After Zhang Lezhang took her in, she underwent intense training but her consistency dropped. Today’s program was made up of the most basic moves, yet she still fell twice. That’s why Cheng Cheng wanted to pick a fight with Zhang Lezhang today.】 

【NO.10: Wasn’t the fight because Zhang Lezhang wanted to pick on Cheng Cheng again? Seems like the person above knows too much.】 

【NO.11: What picking on? Jixing just throws money at talent. This time, they probably hit a brick wall.】 

【NO.12: The first girl’s last name is Qiao—yep, the same Qiao you’re thinking of. She used to train under Marlon Connor but switched back to the provincial team because of school.】 

【NO.13: I bet Zhang Lezhang didn’t just hit a wall this time—more like a brick oven. Throwing money at a rich girl’s family? If Mr. Qiao gets mad enough, he might just buy out Jixing entirely.】 

【NO.20: ??? Marlon Connor? How do you even know that? Are you some kind of insider??】 

【NO.21: [Link]】 

【NO.22: Insider? Nah, I’m in Russia. Just happened to catch one of her performances live.】 

【NO.23: That girl’s a prodigy.】 

✵✵✵ 

“Carlos, what are you doing?” 

The man was furiously typing away at his keyboard. His friend looked over at his screen, totally confused by the unfamiliar writing. 

Unlike Carlos, who loved picking up random languages, James couldn’t understand anything on the screen except for the first line in English. The rest looked like gibberish to him. 

“Wait, are you on a Chinese forum?” James asked, peeking closer. 

“It’s nothing.” Carlos quickly alt-tabbed like he was hiding something, then immediately changed the subject. “I’m heading to China tomorrow. Wanna come?” 

“China?” James blinked. “Isn’t the Grand Prix still a while away?” 

Then it hit him. His eyes widened. “Wait—you’re not going there to train more, are you?” 

“Clear that nonsense out of your head.” Carlos shot him a look. “You remember Qiao, right? She’s competing the day after tomorrow.” 

Carlos had seen her profile on the official site by chance, and between her skills—on par with top-tier skaters from his own country—and her looks, he’d become an instant fan. His eyes shone as he looked at James. 

“So? You coming or not?” 

✵✵✵ 

Qiao Nan had no idea her short program had caused such a stir online. 

The allergic little girl sat still as a statue under Xie Luoying’s silent gaze, not daring to move as her mom wiped off all her makeup and carefully dabbed calamine lotion on the irritated skin. 

She had a competition coming up in two days. To avoid any medication side effects, Qiao Nan could only use some mild anti-itching lotion and hope her immune system would calm down by then. 

The rash covered a large area. The lotion dried fast, and the moment her mom finished applying it, Qiao Nan’s hand shot up on instinct to scratch. 

Xie Luoying gently grabbed her wrist, heart aching at the sight. 

“Do you understand what you did wrong?” she asked as she packed up the cotton swabs. “Didn’t you feel itchy during your program?” 

Qiao Nan did know it was wrong, but… well, she was gonna do it again anyway. 

She blinked and slyly dodged the question. “Didn’t itch.” 

She had been too focused on her performance to notice the discomfort. With her full attention on each movement, the itching just didn’t register. It was only after she got off the ice that the stinging on her forehead really hit her. 

“You little rascal…” Xie Luoying sighed, blowing gently on her daughter’s irritated skin. 

As her mom, she knew exactly how stubborn her daughter could be. Sure, every coach who trained Qiao Nan praised her as a rare talent, but all Xie Luoying saw was a little girl who trained from dawn to dusk. It wasn’t easy to watch. 

But even though she felt sympathy, she still chose to respect her child’s wishes and did her best to help Qiao Nan whenever she needed it. 

“Oh, by the way, Cheng Jue Zhi called earlier. Said he wanted to talk to you. Are you planning to take that classical dance class with him?” 

After being told she was deeply in debt, the girl thought about it for a long time, yet still made time within her already packed schedule to learn a new course. 

Classical Chinese dance—it was rooted in ballet but infused with traditional Chinese culture. Pretty fitting, considering the system she was using was literally called the “Chinese Culture System.” 

“No, his aunt teaches it. Coach Cheng wants him to take me to an open class.” 

Just hearing Cheng Jue Zhi’s name made Qiao Nan visibly deflate. Ever since that misunderstanding last time, she’d been trying to avoid him. But no luck—once Coach Cheng found out she was interested in dance, he personally recommended his sister, Cheng Shishi, and started bragging about his ridiculously cultured family. 

From dance to guzheng to percussion instruments, apparently everyone in the Cheng family was some kind of artist. 

Qiao Nan had pretty much figured it out: no matter what new skill she picked up, she was bound to bump into someone from their family. 

“Coach Cheng said Jue Zhi should show me around,” she muttered, clearly not thrilled, as she sat up and called back. 

But as it turned out, that wasn’t why Cheng Jue Zhi wanted to see her. 

He showed up in no time, just as Qiao Nan was walking around with calamine powder dusted all over her face. 

It dries pink—and she hadn’t cleaned it off yet. So when they bumped into each other, it was… awkward. 

“Here, your little medal.” Cheng Jue Zhi glanced at the somewhat pitiful-looking girl and couldn’t hide the smile on his lips as he quickly looked down. 

The top few places in the short program got small medals. Although the city-level competition was a bit humble, it still came with a certificate. 

Since Qiao Nan had left early, Coach Cheng picked it up for her. But seeing the look on Cheng Jue Zhi’s face now, she kinda wished she’d gotten it herself. 

“If you’re gonna laugh, just do it out loud.” She huffed and snatched the certificate from his hand, spinning on her heel before he could say anything else. 

No way was she giving him the satisfaction. 

⌈ Qiao Qiao, you’re not fooling anyone, you know. ⌋ 

“You shut up too,” 

Even though she clearly wasn’t happy about it, the girl still cleaned herself up and followed Cheng Jue Zhi to his aunt’s place. 

Sure, Qiao Nan wanted to avoid Cheng Jue Zhi, but as someone who took her career seriously, she knew her goals mattered more than personal feelings. 

Cheng Shishi was a renowned classical artist in China. Under this reputation, Qiao Nan generously did not mind if Cheng Jue Zhi learned classical dance alongside her. 

Since she had a competition the next day, Qiao Nan just quietly sat off to the side and watched. 

Cheng Shishi was training her nephew. 

Although Cheng Jue Zhi had no real interest in it, family tradition was strong, so he reluctantly chose to follow his favorite aunt’s path starting at the age of five.

The problem was, it was obvious he had zero talent for it. 

It had taken him a whole week just to loosen up his hamstrings. 

And between the two of them, even though Qiao Nan looked kind of awkward and unsure at first, Cheng Jue Zhi was clearly the one more terrified to be here. 

But he was always quiet, so none of that showed on his face. 

“No, no, what happened to you? Just a few days without practice and you’re already stiff as a board?” 

“Backbend. Come on, relax. Don’t tense up.” 

“Cheng Jue Zhi, be honest—did you even practice at home?” 

Though Cheng Shishi usually doted on her nephew, she didn’t hold back during training. Watching him try to move like a block of wood, she couldn’t help but give him a disappointed look every time. 

This time, with Qiao Nan watching from the side, she finally found an excuse to give up correcting him. 

“Stop, Cheng Jue Zhi. Take a break.” She sighed like she’d finally had enough, then turned toward the sweet-looking girl sitting quietly nearby. 

“You’re Qiao Nan, right?” She remembered seeing the doll-like girl a few times before, so her tone softened into a smile. “Can you do a backbend?” 

“Huh?” Qiao Nan blinked, then gave a polite little nod. 

Though Coach Cheng repeatedly told Qiao Nan she didn’t have to try new moves with Cheng Shishi during class, basic skills like the backbend she could handle anytime. 

“Like this?” She stood up, then smoothly did a textbook-perfect backbend right in front of Cheng Shishi. 

Compared to the stiff boy next to her, Qiao Nan’s form was so graceful it instantly won Cheng Shishi’s heart. 

“Beautiful,” she praised, then turned to pat the boy beside her, who was grimacing in pain while trying to stretch. “Cheng Jue Zhi, look at that.” 

Getting compared to a professional athlete by his own aunt—Cheng Jue Zhi wasn’t sure if he should be honored or just depressed. 

He stiffened his expression even more and decided to pretend he couldn’t see the smug little grin on Qiao Nan’s face. 

She had a sweet smile, but the hint of gloating behind it was not something he appreciated. 

“You’re right,” he said smoothly. “Not everyone can be good at everything.” 

“Like, for example, getting along with classmates.” 

??? Was Cheng Juezhi insinuating himself? 

It definitely was. 

Qiao Nan’s smile froze. She puffed her cheeks and glared at him in protest. 

✵✵✵ 

They made a quick trip to Cheng Shishi’s place. It wasn’t particularly fruitful, but it did help Qiao Nan loosen up a bit. When Cheng Shishi kindly invited her to stay longer, Qiao Nan shook her head. Instead, she offered to show her the program she’d be performing the next day. 

As for Cheng Jue? The grudge-holding girl decided to completely ignore him. 

Cheng Shishi had heard her brother mention Qiao Nan many times, so she was already pretty fond of the girl. Smiling, she drove both of them home. 

Then, without hesitation, she abandoned her nephew, watching Qiao Nan run toward her with a small backpack. 

“Where to?” she asked, turning to the girl who was quietly buckling her seatbelt. 

“There should be a lot of people at the provincial team now.” The girl thought for a moment, “Let’s go to Xishuang Ice Rink instead.” 

“Oh—and Aunt Shishi, could you call Coach Cheng and ask him to meet us there?” 

Even though Xishuang was a commercial rink, the ice quality was much better than most others. A lot of clubs held classes there for kids. 

Even though this was just a practice performance, Qiao Nan still prioritized safety. So she figured it’d be best to contact Coach Cheng ahead of time. 

As for his opinion? After watching Cheng Jue Zhi suffer all afternoon, Qiao Nan had no hesitation in clinging to Aunt Shishi for support. 

She was only doing one program today—no extra training. But even if she weren’t performing in front of someone, she’d still need to hit the ice to stay in rhythm. 

Ever since she chose the figure skating path, she hadn’t been home before sunrise. Having the day off felt a little unfamiliar. 

Coach Cheng showed up pretty fast. Not long after Qiao Nan and Cheng Shishi arrived at Xishuang, he was there too. He stood with his sister outside the rink, watching Qiao Nan glide into her program. 

Qiao Nan’s choreography was worth every cent paid to Merlin. The movements were intricate, yet they flowed together so smoothly that they created a sense of harmony that was hard to resist. 

She hadn’t changed into a costume—just wore her regular training outfit. After a quick warm-up, she began. 

Even so, her skating brought the story behind the music to life. 

Her pace gradually picked up. After a beautiful three-turn, she tapped the ice with her toe pick, jumped, rotated twice in the air, and landed cleanly. 

She didn’t slow down; instead, she accelerated further. 

A split jump, a bow step, a swan step—Qiao Nan’s center of gravity was not very low throughout, but she executed everything crisply, hitting the beats of the music perfectly. 

Cheng Shishi could clearly see how much the young girl loved the sport. But when she heard the music playing from her brother’s phone, she was caught off guard. 

“Wait… is this a Chinese song?” She hesitated, then turned to ask Cheng Cheng, “Did Qiao Nan pick this track herself?” 

Because her older brother used to be a figure skater, Cheng Shishi had some understanding of the sport. 

Western judges never quite resonated with Eastern music the way they did with Western compositions. They often rated Chinese songs lower on the artistic component, which pushed many skaters to adopt more Western styles in their routines. 

But even when they switched to Western music, most Chinese skaters still struggled to score high artistically. They were unfamiliar with the cultural context, and there was always a hint of bias in how judges scored skaters from different countries. 

“Yes,” Cheng Cheng sighed as he spoke, “She has a deep connection to Chinese culture.” 

“She’s going to be at a disadvantage in her artistic scores then,” Shishi pointed out. 

However, Cheng Shishi had a different perspective: “This is a good thing.” 

“The system needs to change someday.” 

Cheng Cheng didn’t stay long at the rink. He had other things to take care of, so after watching Qiao Nan’s program, he said goodbye and left. 

That left just Shishi and Qiao Nan playing around on the ice. 

With no one supervising, Qiao Nan didn’t dare practice too seriously. She simply skated in circles with Shishi, occasionally throwing in a split jump here and there. 

She had promised her coach not to do any high-difficulty moves, so she gave up all her double jumps for the day and focused on mastering the basics. 

Even if they weren’t as hard, basic skills were the foundation of everything else. Qiao Nan took them seriously. 

She had arrived at the rink just after six in the morning, so it wasn’t very crowded at first. 

But by the time she moved from footwork to jumps, she looked around and realized the rink was now half full. 

“So many people already?” Qiao Nan sighed. She figured she’d quickly run through a few of her single jumps for the week, then go find Shishi, who was strolling casually around the rink. 

It wasn’t exactly safe for a young girl to be training seriously in a crowded rink. And since today’s practice was just light drills, Qiao Nan didn’t feel the need to push herself too hard. 

Her single jumps were looking great—smooth and consistent, like clockwork. She knocked out several of them in quick succession without a hitch. 

But when she was about to attempt a single Axel, something unexpected happened. 

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

A voice came from behind her just as she was prepping for the takeoff. Qiao Nan turned and saw a short-haired girl standing expressionlessly behind her. 

She recognized her—another skater who was scheduled to take the ice right after her today. She’d heard this girl used to be Cheng Cheng’s student too. 

What a coincidence, running into her here. 

“Are you talking to me?” Qiao Nan asked cautiously. “Is something wrong?” 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Qian Hongdou said with a complex expression as she looked at the delicate-looking girl in front of her. 

After her own competition, Qian Hongdou had gone to find Cheng Cheng, hoping he might help her. 

Life at Jixing had been tough. She’d been lured there with promises of a high salary, but once she joined, she was treated like a machine—doing the same movements over and over every day. Her entire existence had become centered around the triple Axel. 

She thought Cheng Cheng, the coach who had once given her so much support, might still care. But after listening to her explain, he had only paused for a moment before giving her a firm answer. 

“Hongdou, I was clear with you when you left,” he said gently, but without warmth. “This was your choice.” 

“You have to take responsibility for it.” 

And he was right. This was the price she paid for walking away from him back then. 

After running into Qiao Nan unexpectedly, Qian Hongdou had a lot on her mind. She’d considered mocking the new girl her former coach was now training. Maybe throw some sarcastic remarks her way. 

But when she actually started talking to Qiao Nan, she hesitated. 

After a long silence, she finally spoke—still cold, but no longer sharp: “You took off from the wrong edge just now.” 

✵✵✵ 

Meanwhile, across the city— 

Carlos had flown into China in a rush. He forgot to pack half his stuff, but that didn’t matter—he had money. As soon as he got off the plane, he dragged James straight to the nearest mall like he’d done it a hundred times. 

And truthfully, he had. He knew the way like the back of his hand. 

But this time was different. 

As they passed by the lower floor, something caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. 

“панда, живая панда.” 

His voice wasn’t quiet. It was loud enough that Qiao Nan heard it and looked up, curious. 

“Tuan Tuan, what did he say?” she asked, pausing and glancing at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed man leaning over the railing, waving at her. 

The little ice crystal who was always by her side answered quickly: 

⌈ Little panda, a live little red panda! ⌋ 

Author’s Note: 

Qiao Nan 😳: What? Say that again.