Wright’s “extra training” sessions weren’t just talk. Even if he said it half-jokingly, you could count on him to actually follow through with a pile of extra drills in the regular schedule. 

Qiao Nan got a taste of that “reward.” Sure, Wright had been impressed by her performance, but once it was over, he didn’t hold back on pointing out a whole list of problems. 

Her legs weren’t fully extended in the air during jumps, her free leg position was unstable during spins, and even though her spin was supposed to accelerate into a tighter position, she didn’t have the stamina to support it… 

Qiao Nan didn’t really complain. Most of Wright’s feedback was stuff she’d heard before or bad habits she’d just gotten used to ignoring. They weren’t major issues, but definitely the kind of things that could bump up her artistic score if she worked on them in the short term. 

Aurora, who also got dragged into the extra training, wasn’t thrilled about it, but Qiao Nan’s first day at the Garcia ice rink ended with a round of double the usual—and very dull—lap running. 

Qiao Nan didn’t have much time to get familiar with the rink in Moscow. Although the first two days on the competition schedule were marked for official training, there was only one rink for all the participants, and there were quite a few of them. Qiao Nan only managed to skate with Myron at the competition venue for around three hours during their reserved slot—and in a flash, it was competition day. 

On the competition day, the long-overdue sunlight finally broke through the clouds and shone on the ground. The sky was clear, but when Cheng Cheng went to wake Qiao Nan up, he immediately sensed something was wrong. 

It seemed the official training from the previous days had aggravated a cold and fever that Qiao Nan had been ignoring, which now rebounded all at once. 

“Uncle Cheng…” Qiao Nan mumbled as she slowly opened her eyes. “What time is it?” 

Due to tonsillitis, her voice was hoarse, and she looked utterly drained. Even after being woken up, she couldn’t summon any energy. 

“It’s nine in the morning,” Cheng Cheng said, placing a hand on her forehead. She was burning up. “Did you forget to put on your jacket after practice yesterday?” 

The day before had been her last full run-through before the competition. She’d worn her competition costume and run through her program a few times. Cheng Cheng had started out watching her, but got distracted filling out competition paperwork and forgot to check if she’d properly cooled down and bundled up afterward. 

He hadn’t known her for long, but by now he was pretty familiar with her tendency to forget things—especially when it came to post-practice routines. She often vanished right after practice, leaving him to wander around KC Zone with her jacket in hand. 

Not that she ever really ran off. She was always easy to find—usually parked in one of the same few spots. Cheng Cheng was starting to feel like his “taking care of kids” skills had leveled up thanks to her. 

“…” 

Cheng Cheng didn’t say anything, but his expression was kind of scary. 

Qiao Nan remembered crouching beside the rink with Marlon yesterday, still in her costume, going over her rhythm changes… and decided maybe it was better not to say anything. She instinctively shrank under the covers. 

Which really said everything, even if she didn’t say it out loud. 

“I’ll go find you something to bring the fever down,” he sighed, placing a cup of warm water on her bedside table. “Try to rest a bit more. If your temperature goes down, you can still compete.” 

He took a few steps toward the door, then suddenly turned back. 

“If it’s still high by 2 p.m., we’re pulling you out of the competition.” 

✵✵✵ 

After training “Jasmine Flower” for over three months, the last person who wanted to quit was Qiao Nan herself. 

Thankfully, her body pulled through. The fever meds worked, and her temperature dropped back to just above 37°C. She still felt a little dizzy, but at least she could stand. 

She even made it to the rink just before the deadline for athlete check-in. 

The women’s singles competition started at four. There was still a bit of time before the audience was let in. 

Warm-ups hadn’t started yet, so most of the young skaters were gathered in groups, chatting and laughing. When the doors opened and an Asian girl with neatly done hair walked in, most people just gave her a glance before going back to their conversations. 

There were quite a few Asian girls at the event, so Qiao Nan’s arrival didn’t draw much attention. Some small groups even waved her over to join them. 

But she wasn’t in the mood to socialize. 

Her fever had just broken, and though her temperature was normal, her body still felt weak. She touched her forehead—it still felt warm. After thinking for a second, she took out the cooling patch her mom had insisted she bring, peeled off the backing, and stuck it right on. 

It looked kind of silly, but the chill on her skin actually made her shiver a little. 

She politely turned down the invitations to chat, grabbed a little stool, and sat in a quiet corner against the wall, hoping to recover a bit more energy before warm-ups started. 

Unfortunately, her peace didn’t last long. To the other kids, the patch on her forehead was… intriguing, to say the least. 

“Hey, what’s that?” she’d only just closed her eyes when a girl came over, speaking choppy English. Before Qiao Nan could react, the girl reached out and pulled the patch off her forehead. 

“It’s cold?” Park Jin-Ah blinked at the strange cloth in her hand. “There’s ice right over there. Why would you put cold stuff on your forehead?” 

She suddenly laughed. “Are you stupid or something?” 

This was Qiao Nan’s first big competition, and aside from Aurora and Pearl—who had briefly introduced herself—she didn’t know any of the other athletes. With so many nationalities represented, her main point of reference was hair and skin color. 

Park Jin-Ah was just another girl in a pink costume to her. She had no idea who she was, or that this wasn’t just some random skater. 

“Who are you?” 

The fever patch was ripped off without warning, tugging at Qiao Nan’s skin. She rubbed her now-reddened forehead and asked softly, “Do I know you?” 

Park Jin-Ah was basically a celebrity kid in South Korea’s figure skating world—both her parents were famous athletes back in the day, and she was hailed as the “Future Star of Korea” from a young age. 

She wasn’t lacking in talent either. She consistently placed well in national competitions and had built a decent reputation internationally among skaters her age. 

“You don’t recognize me?” The girl looked at her in surprise. “Are you really here to compete? You didn’t even look at the list of participants?” 

As one of the top contenders for gold, she figured most coaches would at least brief their skaters on who to watch out for. How could someone not even recognize her name? 

“I did check,” Qiao Nan replied listlessly, clearly low on energy. “There are over fifty competitors.” 

So who are you again? 

No way… does she really not know who I am? 

“I’m Park Jin-Ah, this year’s champion in the younger age group,” the girl said proudly, lifting her chin. “Skaters like you, who are just here for the experience, should remember my name.” 

Park Jin-Ah… wasn’t that the name Sister Aurora had mentioned as one of the top contenders? 

“Oh, you’re the one who can land the double Axel,” Qiao Nan said, dazed from her fever. She didn’t catch the passive-aggressive tone and, trying to stay awake, asked earnestly, “But the competition hasn’t even started. How do you already know you’re the champion?” 

She felt her temperature creeping back up again. 

“Can I have my fever patch back?” she asked a bit awkwardly. 

Park Jin-Ah was feeling very confident about this competition. 

Although there was still a gap between her and Pearl or Elena, from what she’d heard beforehand, despite Pearl and Elena practicing triple jumps, they hadn’t incorporated them into their program for the Volin Memorial due to inconsistency. 

She had faced off with them many times before and always came up short, despite being called Korea’s “future star.” Her rank stayed below theirs whenever they competed, and as a result, her influence and commercial appeal in Korea had started to fade. 

Even though her coach didn’t say much about it, every time she went home and saw her parents’ worried expressions, eight-year-old Park Jin-Ah understood more than she let on. 

So now, with her rivals holding back, Park Jin-Ah’s desire to win had become all-consuming. She’d traded triple jumps for perfecting the double Axel and was going all-in. 

That’s why even a random comment from Qiao Nan could trigger her. 

“I know,” Jin-Ah started, initially pleased that Qiao Nan seemed to recognize her. But when she realized this girl was just here to fill up the roster, she forgot all her coach’s warnings to keep her cool. Her pent-up frustration exploded. 

“Why would I care about your stupid patch?” 

She crumpled it up and tossed it into Qiao Nan’s lap with a sneer. 

“My coach is Blake March, a student of Marlon Connor. Do you think I can’t win the championship?” 

She shot one last arrogant glance at the girl she couldn’t stand and huffed: 

“I’ll see you on the ice.” 

Author’s note: 

Qiao Nan: I don’t know Blake, but I do know Marlon. 

— 

Bestie: Is that Park Jin-Ah girl, like… okay in the head? 

Me: Honestly, I’m wondering the same thing. 

Bestie: ??? 

Bestie: Aren’t you the one who wrote her???