Chapter 4

As Wang Li had anticipated, the Japanese side was absolutely ecstatic about Miyazaki Hirano winning the silver medal in the junior division of the Figure Skating Grand Prix.  

The commentator covering the event was on the verge of losing his mind, his voice already hoarse from shouting, overwhelmed by sheer exhilaration: “To all the viewers here and at home—silver medal, silver medal!!! Miyazaki has defeated countless prodigious skaters to claim second place in the junior Grand Prix finals!! This is a victory for our nation! Japan has become the first Asian country in nearly twenty years to stand on the men’s singles podium!”  

“Miyazaki has triumphed! He has broken Japan’s twenty-year curse in figure skating and stepped onto the podium!”  

Another commentator was even more impassioned, his voice brimming with more intensity than a shounen anime protagonist.  

“Miyazaki is nothing short of Japan’s superhero—he has defeated rival China and created a miracle!”  

“As we all know, Japan and China have been locked in a fierce rivalry in figure skating for far too long. But now, our country has indisputably taken the lead, marking a monumental step forward!”  

Japanese media outlets also splashed the news everywhere, instantly turning Miyazaki Hirano into a star under the spotlight.  

Japan’s figure skating fanbase was larger than China’s, and after the announcement, social media platforms were flooded with posts and photos celebrating Miyazaki’s silver medal.  

[Miyazaki-kun is amazing! Not only did he make it to the podium, but he also won silver!]  

[Keep it up! If he continues like this, he might even have a shot at gold in the future!]  

[Miyazaki-kun is Japan’s pride! Japanese figure skating now stands at the pinnacle of Asia—we’ve completely surpassed China!]  

Some Chinese figure skating fans in Japan saw these comments and wanted to argue, but in the end, they stayed silent—because it was the truth.  

China’s figure skating had indeed lost to Japan.  

After watching the junior Grand Prix competition, the whole class was subdued. Even the usually talkative Mu Ying didn’t know what to say.  

Lunch break ended quickly, and afraid that the teacher might spot her phone, Mu Ying hurriedly put it away.  

The afternoon passed in tense study sessions, but Jiang Xu Guang noticed that Jiu Sheng, sitting in front of him, seemed distracted, lost in thought as if pondering something.  

After school, Jiu Sheng carried his secondhand ice skates and returned to the same training rink from yesterday. The rink wasn’t crowded, with only a few skaters gliding around. After a brief warm-up, Jiu Sheng laced up his skates and took a few laps around the ice.  

He started with a one-foot glide, then transitioned into a sit spin.  

The graceful movements gradually captivated him, his motions growing lighter and more fluid.  

Compared to yesterday, his skating was noticeably smoother, with none of the previous stiffness. The ice shavings kicked up by his blades were also much fewer.  

Lost in his own world, Jiu Sheng didn’t notice that Xu Zhou, who had appeared at the rink yesterday, had once again slipped in alone to watch.

Jiu Sheng glided across the ice while mentally recalling various figure skating techniques—the glides, spins, jumps, and all kinds of footwork.  

Then, Jiu Sheng performed a catch-foot spiral on the ice.  

The catch-foot spiral, also known as a half Biellmann spin, involves maintaining a spiral position while pulling the ice blade with one hand and lifting the leg upward.  

This move isn’t as difficult as a full Biellmann spin, but it’s still far from easy, testing an athlete’s flexibility—especially for male skaters, whose flexibility generally isn’t as good as female skaters. This pose is particularly challenging for them.  

Yet, Jiu Sheng made it look effortless, as if it were second nature to him.  

Xu Zhou couldn’t help but praise him a few times.  

Yesterday, he had already noticed Jiu Sheng’s astonishing flexibility, but he hadn’t expected it to be this impressive.  

Even such a difficult catch-foot spiral was executed with such ease.  

However, Jiu Sheng himself was slightly dissatisfied with his spin.  

His flexibility still wasn’t as good as in his past life. If it were, he wouldn’t have settled for just a half Biellmann spin—he could’ve easily pulled off a full Biellmann spin.  

After this sequence, most people would be exhausted, but Jiu Sheng continued gliding across the ice.  

Sweat trickled down his forehead, dampening his hair, yet his eyes still sparkled with intensity. The sweat trailed down his neck and into his collar, creating an unbearably captivating sight.  

But then, Xu Zhou suddenly noticed something—Jiu Sheng had begun another long glide.  

Was he going to attempt the 3A again?  

The prolonged glide soon ended, and Xu Zhou was curious to see how Jiu Sheng’s 3A would compare to yesterday’s, how much progress he had made.  

But then Xu Zhou realized—Jiu Sheng wasn’t jumping forward. His takeoff was backward, meaning this wasn’t a 3A at all!  

With Xu Zhou’s extensive experience, he quickly recognized that Jiu Sheng was attempting a toe loop. A toe loop isn’t difficult—it’s quite simple—but the shocking part was that this reckless kid was going for a Quadruple Toe Loop!  

What the hell?!  

Was this kid out of his damn mind?! Hadn’t he suffered enough from yesterday’s 3A falls?!  

He hadn’t even mastered triple jumps yet, and now he dared to attempt a quadruple?!  

This was a surefire way to get injured!  

Watching Jiu Sheng rotate in the air, Xu Zhou’s mind went blank—there was something eerily familiar about that takeoff.  

Then it hit him.  

That was Stepan’s Quadruple Toe Loop from the Free Skate finals!  

He was imitating Stepan’s quadruple jump!  

And the takeoff was shockingly similar!  

Xu Zhou had seen many people with strong imitation skills, but this was the first time he’d encountered someone bold enough to directly attempt a quadruple jump—and mimic it so accurately.  

But did this kid even know his own limits? Blindly imitating without proper training would only lead to injury—or worse, permanent damage.  

Just as Xu Zhou expected, the reckless attempt ended disastrously. Jiu Sheng crashed onto the ice with a brutal impact, the loud thud making Xu Zhou wince in sympathy.  

Damn, serves you right. Maybe this’ll teach you not to mess around like this again.

Muttering curses under his breath, Xu Zhou quickly rushed over to check on Jiu Sheng’s condition, fearing that this jump might have seriously injured the kid.

Jiu Sheng’s injuries were indeed more severe than yesterday’s. He grimaced on the ice for a long time before recovering.

However, compared to yesterday, Jiu Sheng’s falling posture had improved significantly. The moment he fell, he instinctively reacted to minimize damage. Though it looked painful, no bones or ankles were harmed.

Jiu Sheng didn’t consider this reckless. For him, it was simply an urgent, instinctive pursuit of anything that excited him—be it the 3A or the Quadruple Toe Loop.

From a young age, Jiu Sheng knew he was fundamentally different from others. His obsession with victory and challenge bordered on madness, to the point where he’d risk his life for it. Calling him normal would be inaccurate; he was more like someone with a mental disorder.

But he couldn’t change. That exhilaration was too intoxicating—a thrill that sent shivers down his spine.

With Xu Zhou’s support, Jiu Sheng slowly stood up.

As Xu Zhou examined his injuries, Jiu Sheng suddenly spoke: “Is the current state of figure skating in China… not very promising?”

Xu Zhou froze, a bitter taste rising in his mouth. “Y-yeah, it’s a bit… rough.”

“Not very promising” was an understatement. The situation was dire.

The higher-ups were so stressed about figure skating that they were practically losing their hair. They’d finally found a genius in Jiu Li, only for her to get injured right before the Figure Skating Grand Prix, rendering her unable to compete.

Seeing Japan take home the silver medal had driven the officials mad with frustration.

Lost in thought, Xu Zhou was startled when Jiu Sheng spoke again: “By the way, what you said yesterday about wanting to be my coach—does that offer still stand?”

At first, Xu Zhou didn’t process the question. When it finally clicked, his reaction was: “?!”

“What? You’re agreeing to become a professional figure skater?”

Then, puzzled, he added: “Why?”

Jiu Sheng chuckled lightly, his already striking features becoming even more breathtaking. “Because I think standing on the podium representing an entire country sounds like a lot of fun.”

Xu Zhou was stunned.

A lot of fun?

Jiu Sheng wiped the sweat from his cheeks, his tousled hair swaying gently over his forehead.

When he saw Japan surpassing China to stand on the podium, Jiu Sheng—like other figure skating fans—felt a surge of anger.

Though he was a madman, he still had basic patriotic sentiments.

Jiu Sheng licked a wound from his earlier fall.

At this point, ballet no longer provided the same level of thrill. He’d already reached its peak. But figure skating was a brand-new challenge, offering him fresh excitement.

He loved the feeling of climbing upward, not the loneliness of standing at the world’s summit. Figure skating could give him so much more.

Jiu Sheng craved challenges, the unknown, the breathless suspension mid-air where even breathing stopped.

Besides, if figure skating could bring glory to his country, why not choose it?

Jiu Sheng’s eyes grew brighter, his grin widening so much that Xu Zhou no longer saw a 13-year-old boy—but a villain who’d annihilate the entire protagonist team.

Before long, Xu Zhou burst into hearty laughter.

He finally understood Jiu Sheng’s intentions.

For an athlete, apart from talent and hard work, the most crucial thing is an insatiable hunger for victory.

Xu Zhou had witnessed this hunger in many athletes before, but he had a strange feeling that Jiu Sheng was different. His ambition for victory was boundless, even beyond description.

He would bring glory and honor to China. He was the ace, and he would also be the trump card.