Qiao Nan had absolutely no idea that, after finally escaping the Spring Festival performance, it still managed to catch up with her. 

Sure, she did plan to use the Garcia rink for some last-minute practice before the competition, but performing on stage like this? That definitely wasn’t part of the plan. 

Standing at the entrance of the rink, she hadn’t imagined the first thing her coach would say to her would be something like, “Be that genius kid every other parent brags about.” 

She and Aurora hadn’t overheard much, but Qiao Nan had clearly caught every bit of Marlon bragging about Wright. 

Getting complimented by a coach was rare enough, but after Aurora explained who was who and the general skill level of her fellow skaters, Qiao Nan couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. 

There were only four people present, but the skill gap was clear—everyone else was way ahead. Both Marlon and Wright were former top-tier athletes turned coaches, and apparently Aurora had already pretty much nailed her triple jumps. 

So showing off her double jumps in front of these skating elites? Even without factoring in age, Qiao Nan couldn’t help but feel a little shy. 

“Coach…” she looked pitifully at her slightly tipsy coach, trying to talk her way out of it. “How about I wish you a happy belated New Year instead?” 

“I don’t think I’m ready yet… my program still needs some work. Maybe I could—” 

Before she could finish, Marlon shut her down. 

“You’re nervous with just four people watching? What’re you going to do when the stadium’s packed during the actual competition?” 

Even though he was clearly a little drunk, Marlon’s professionalism never wavered. He handed his wine glass to Wright with a casual flick of his wrist and grinned. 

“Come on, Wright. Fill it up—we’re about to watch your little junior show us what she’s got.” 

“It’s fine, Qiao,” Aurora said calmly, clearly used to this kind of situation. She saw how tense Qiao Nan looked and patted her on the shoulder. “Coach just wants to see where you’re at.” Then, without hesitation, she gave Qiao Nan a gentle shove. “Go.” 

Last time Marlon got drunk and wanted to watch a student’s program, Aurora ended up being the guinea pig. After her performance, both coaches nitpicked everything she did. So now that someone younger was in the spotlight, Aurora quietly let out a sigh of relief and did her best to stay invisible. 

Even though Wright had inherited Marlon’s coaching philosophy and usually seemed all smiles during training, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be ruthless after drinking. And yeah, Aurora really didn’t want to go through that again. 

Qiao Nan had come to Garcia rink already planning to train, so she’d brought all her gear. Under the eager gaze of her coach, she quickly changed into her skates and warmed up on the ice. 

Warming up is a must before any performance. You need to get your joints moving properly before you can really show what you’ve got. 

The Garcia rink wasn’t too cold. After just a few laps, sweat was already forming on Qiao Nan’s forehead. 

Still not enough. She ran through a few jump drills until her body was loose and comfortably warm, then finally stopped and stood still on the ice. 

Head held high, she glanced at Aurora, who immediately understood the signal and pressed play on the music. 

Her program was titled “Jasmine Flower,” but it wasn’t the familiar version most people knew, the one led by a solo flute melody. 

Different places have different styles of “Jasmine Flower.” In this version, after some back-and-forth between Marlon, his partner Kenan Brook, and Qiao Nan’s aunt, Qiao Xiaodi, they decided to mix things up—adding a variety of instruments, not just traditional Chinese ones, but also Western orchestral sounds. The result was a truly global take on the song. 

This was exactly what Tuan Tuan had always been worried about. 

At this point, calling it “Jasmine Flower” felt a little off. With guzheng, suona, and even an oboe solo thrown in, it might as well have been renamed “World Flower.” If not for the familiar melody at the beginning and end, they weren’t sure the system would even recognize the piece. 

As the guzheng started playing, Qiao Nan, who had been standing still with her head down, suddenly sharpened her gaze. She lifted her head, blades slicing clean lines into the smooth ice, her arms flowing gracefully with the rhythm. 

Her first jump came at the musical transition. As the guzheng clashed with the erhu in a stylistic mix, she landed a triple turn followed by a Mohawk into a double salchow (2S), perfectly syncing her landing with the erhu’s downward modulation. 

This was only the beginning of the program. While Marlon had simply wanted Qiao Nan to broaden her horizons by competing, Merlin—always dedicated—would never allow poor choreography under his name. 

His “evil genius” touch came in how tightly the choreography was packed. It was like he had a progress bar for her stamina and squeezed every last bit out of it—from the first jump to the final layback spin. 

She started with complex step sequences that looked like she was drawing flowers on the ice, followed by a back inside double flip into a back outside double toe loop combo (2F+2T), and ended with a spin that gradually accelerated, meant to represent a flower blooming. 

In short, after fully assessing Qiao Nan’s technical level, Merlin pushed the technical scores to the max—cramming in every high-difficulty element she could manage. 

If she hadn’t flat-out said she couldn’t learn another move in time, he probably would’ve made her add a Biellmann spin too. 

Although he regretfully cut out that move in the end, he still added a layback spin for Qiao Nan. 

Her outfit happened to be packed together with her skates, so for this performance, she just went with the costume decorated with some pale-colored rhinestones, simple and elegant. 

As the skirt flared out from the force of her spin, it created a beautiful image. If the sit spin in the middle of the music was like the petals closing, then the final accelerated spin, partly added to increase difficulty, was the perfect summary of the entire piece. 

Like a delicate young flower slowly blooming with brilliance in the ice. 

Even though Qiao Nan had grumbled a lot during practice about Merlin’s choreography, judging by the final performance, the little girl clearly understood what he was going for in terms of artistic expression. 

Aside from a few moments where her age and flexibility limited her grace, and a couple musical cues she didn’t quite hit, she had otherwise expressed the music almost perfectly. 

Qiao Nan’s performance wasn’t even halfway through when Wright, who had initially looked unimpressed, instinctively sat up straighter. 

After all, she was still under seven years old. Even though his own coach had been bragging about this new student, Wright hadn’t taken it too seriously until he actually saw her perform. 

Marlon talking big after a few drinks wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence. But this time? He wasn’t exaggerating at all. 

This girl’s talent shone so bright it even made Wright’s own pride and joy, Aurora, a little uncomfortable. 

Wright turned and glanced at his student, who was watching the performance seriously, then, true to his straightforward Russian nature, spoke up without hesitation. 

“Aurora, did you slack off in off-ice training today?” he asked with a sigh before the girl could even respond. “Double the training later.” 

“And bring Qiao along, too.” 

…Huh? 

Wait a sec—she just finished her performance and now you want her to do extra training? 

Still catching her breath from the performance, Qiao Nan locked eyes with Aurora, totally stunned. 

Seriously—when is this Spring Festival ever going to end?!