After running into Qiao Nan by chance at Xishuang, Cheng Cheng wasted no time reporting it to his superior. 

This guy had been coaching figure skating for over a decade and had a razor-sharp eye for talent. Even though Qiao Nan had only done a few jumps in front of him, that was more than enough for him to gauge her potential. 

Her jumps were decently high, and her coordination on the ice was impressive. Cheng Cheng hadn’t seen her spins yet, but based on what Wang Li Lin mentioned—that the girl had just come from a ballet class—he figured her flexibility couldn’t be too bad. Kids who can do the splits from a young age tend to retain a certain level of flexibility unless they’re naturally stiff. 

All in all, Cheng Cheng held a pretty high opinion of Qiao Nan. Like Wang Li Lin, he had this inexplicable sense of confidence in her future. 

Even if she didn’t have the top-tier talent of recent years, just her clean double jumps alone could put her in serious competition with Jiang Muran, who was widely seen as the number one skater in the junior division. 

But while Cheng Cheng was excited about this promising prospect, his superior saw things differently. 

Figure skating was a niche sport in China, barely known among the general public, so naturally the national sports bureau didn’t allocate much funding for it. 

So when Cheng Cheng enthusiastically talked up this amazing new skater he’d found, the leader didn’t seem the least bit thrilled. 

“Cheng Cheng, you said yourself—this girl trained under Marlon Connor,” the superior sighed. “Do you even know how much that coach charges?” 

Cheng Cheng hesitated. “About two thousand per lesson?” 

He was thinking in RMB, and that price already seemed sky-high compared to the average 100 RMB per hour for figure skating lessons in China. 

But Connor’s actual rate was way steeper than Cheng Cheng had imagined. 

“Two thousand dollars per session,” the leader said flatly, picking up his chipped ceramic mug and shaking the water cooler beside him. “Even if that girl’s got talent, can you guarantee she’ll maintain her level after switching coaches?” 

As for Cheng Cheng’s idea of claiming talented skaters under the provincial team’s name, that was easier said than done. Opening that door could lead to all kinds of policy changes—things far beyond what a single coach like Cheng Cheng could handle. 

“Or let me put it another way,” the leader continued, clearly still interested in the talent but staying cautious. “You think our provincial team has the money to afford a coach like that?” 

Yeah. Money was the issue. Big time. 

Even the best cook can’t make a meal without ingredients—and that realization took a lot of wind out of Cheng Cheng’s earlier excitement. 

Worse yet, now that Qiao Nan might slip through his fingers, more trouble loomed on the horizon. 

The year was ending, and the provincial team was getting ready to downsize again. If Cheng Cheng didn’t have a strong athlete, he’d likely be on the chopping block. 

“Ah, Qiao Nan. Long time no see,” he greeted her with a smile, not expecting that a small favor for his nephew’s family would lead him to bump into the very skater he’d been thinking about nonstop. “Nothing much. Just rethinking my career path.” 

He chuckled. “Being a club coach pays a lot differently than coaching for the provincial team.” 

Club coach? Wasn’t Cheng Cheng part of the provincial team? 

Qiao Nan looked puzzled and instinctively turned to her AI companion, Tuan Tuan, for clarification. 

The answer came quickly. 

⌈ Provincial team funds are tight. Cheng Cheng is on the layoff list. ⌋ 

Layoffs? In the provincial team? 

Qiao Nan didn’t know much about the coaching scene, but the overall state of figure skating in China was clear enough. 

She may have been young, but thanks to Tuan Tuan’s help, she knew that within her current reach, Cheng Cheng was probably the best coach she could find in the country. 

His skills were solid, his network was extensive, and he had ties to the Qiao family. 

In a way, this was her fastest route into the national team. 

“Uncle Cheng, do you want to keep working in figure skating?” the little girl tilted her head, and with a glint in her eye, offered the tired-looking coach a huge promise. 

“I’m really good. Wanna take a chance and train me?” 

Sometimes, the flowers you plant don’t bloom, but the willows you didn’t mean to stick grow into shade. 

Cheng Cheng was definitely tempted by her talent, but he didn’t say yes right away. In his mind, Qiao Nan might just be feeling sorry for him. No matter how much he wanted it, he told her they should talk again after they got back from Russia. 

The Volin Memorial competition would take about two weeks—plenty of time for both of them to figure out if they were a good match. 

Since the coach was willing to give her a fair shot, Qiao Nan had no objections. 

So, after spending three days of Spring Festival with her parents and the Qiao family, she packed her small, stuffed suitcase and headed to Moscow with Cheng Cheng. 

✵✵✵ 

Though the Volin Memorial Competition wasn’t even on the radar back in China, it was one of Russia’s biggest competitions—second only to the Russian Youth Championships. 

To Qiao Nan, the difference between a major event and a minor one mostly boiled down to whether or not the organizer paid for the athletes’ hotel rooms. 

And this organizer? Definitely loaded. 

When she and Cheng Cheng arrived at the hotel booked in advance by the organizers, dragging three large suitcases, even Qiao Nan—who came from a family that owned luxury hotels—couldn’t help but gasp at the opulence of the Byzantine-style decor. 

The event had so many participants that the organizers had reserved an entire hotel complex in the suburbs of Moscow. From afar, domed rooftops gathered together like something out of a fantasy—magnificent and over-the-top. 

“So rich,” Qiao Nan said, tilting her head back to take it all in. 

“That’s not quite right, Qiao Nan,” Cheng Cheng instinctively corrected. “Isn’t your family in real estate? Don’t you have hotels?” 

“Not like this,” she laughed. “We don’t build castles.” 

Fair enough—she was too young to know much about her family’s business, but none of their hotels looked anything like this. 

“You got me there,” Cheng Cheng said with a sigh, grabbing her luggage. “I’ll check us in. Wait here for a bit.” 

Even though the organizers had rented out the whole hotel, the athletes still needed to fill out basic info at the front desk. Qiao Nan had been invited under Marlon’s name, but since they were coming from different countries and only planned to meet up in Moscow, Cheng Cheng had to handle the check-in. 

Basically, his whole job on this trip was to take care of Qiao Nan—kind of like a full-time babysitter. 

Even Qiao Nan wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to such a thankless task. 

“Alright.” Away from her parents, Qiao Nan acted far more mature than a typical six-and-a-half-year-old. Hearing Cheng Cheng’s instructions, she simply nodded and continued to gaze up at the dazzling building in front of her. 

The Byzantine architecture really struck a chord with her. As she admired the hotel, her thoughts drifted home, already planning to act spoiled with her parents and ask them to build one just like it. 

Didn’t have to be as fancy. Just a castle of her own would do. 

The little girl, whose body had not only returned to childhood but whose preferences had also regressed with it, showed her love for this hotel plainly on her face. A blonde, blue-eyed girl passing by couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

Seriously? It’s just a hotel. Nothing that impressive. If this little girl went to more competitions, she’d know this place was one of the most complained-about hotels among athletes. 

Terrible service, meals that didn’t meet athlete nutrition standards, and on top of that, ridiculously high entry fees. Croft Pearl didn’t believe for a second that the organizers weren’t pocketing some of the money. 

“Ivan,” Croft Pearl tugged at her quiet-looking companion and turned slightly toward Qiao Nan, sounding somewhat displeased, “Don’t tell me the organizers are out of money again. Why are we staying at this hotel again?” 

“Haven’t they gotten tired of all the complaint calls yet?” 

Flashy but useless decorations. The building was clearly in Moscow, but to Croft Pearl, it looked no better than one of those cardboard hotels in Korea. 

“At least they’re giving us a place to check in,” Ivan Hughes said, giving Croft a pat on the shoulder. “We’re just here to register anyway. It’s not like you’re staying here.” 

The U.S. and Russia hadn’t exactly been on friendly terms for years, so it was pretty normal for the U.S. team to stay somewhere separate during competitions. No one on the team really cared what the neighbors’ place looked like. 

Well… maybe not no one. 

Ivan glanced over at the spot Croft had subtly shifted toward, immediately seeing through her little act. 

“If you want to say hi to that kid over there, just go. No need to pretend.” 

The boy smirked and called Croft out without hesitation. 

Croft Pearl was well-known on the team for her weakness for cute girls—especially ones with black hair and an East Asian look. And right now, the girl in question, Qiao Nan, happened to check every box on her list. 

No wonder Croft, who was usually super direct, was suddenly beating around the bush. 

But apparently, someone else beat her to it. 

“Hi, are you Qiao?” A girl with a classic Russian look tapped Qiao Nan on the shoulder, smiling warmly. “I’m one of Coach Wright’s students. Coach Marlon’s with Mr. Wright right now. Do you want to head over?” 

Author’s note: 

Cheng Cheng: Not gonna lie, I totally got carried to the national team by my students. 

All done! Naming characters always makes me pull my hair out. 

Croft Pearl’s such a tsundere little thing~