Due to the 12-hour time difference, when the World Championships in Boston began, it was around 4 or 5 AM in China. However, true fans still woke up to watch the live broadcast through CCTV’s app.
Qin Xuejun only finished her night shift at 3 AM and called Zhang Jue, who was in the afternoon at 3 PM.
Dr. Qin: “The competition is about to start, right? How are you doing now? Has the jet lag improved? How’s your right ankle? Do you need to take painkillers before the competition?”
Zhang Jue: “I’m in good condition. I don’t need painkillers, and the jet lag was gone long ago. Why are you calling me at this hour?”
Dr. Qin: “Oh, there’s a problem with a residential property. They demanded the owners either buy parking spaces or stop parking altogether. They even canceled the car rental service, and then the owners fought with their security guards, which led to more than ten patients coming to the hospital’s orthopedic department. One of them is still in the operating room having their spleen repaired.”
Hearing this, Zhang Jue felt fortunate that every time he bought a house, he always asked about the property fees and the work ethic of the management.
Because she was already very tired, Dr. Qin didn’t drive home but took a DiDi instead. Fortunately, in Beijing, as a busy first-tier city, you can always get a ride, even at night. After getting home, she quickly freshened up, changed clothes, and got into bed, turning on her phone before sleeping.
The first event to start was the women’s short program, followed by the men’s. When the competition began, the cameras focused on the women warming up, but initially, the camera did go to Zhang Jue.
CCTV said: “Welcome to the 2016 World Figure Skating Championships, here live from Boston. The women’s short program is about to begin, and we can see many athletes warming up, like Zhang Jue, who is stretching.”
In the shot, Zhang Jue did a split, his right hand leading his torso to the left, and his fingers almost touched his toes. Then, as if feeling uncomfortable, he lifted the edge of his shirt… Ah, there was still another layer of clothing underneath, and it was still long-sleeved.
Athletes can’t afford to catch a cold, especially with the ice rink’s low temperature. So, Zhang Jue always wore layer after layer of clothing before stepping onto the ice, especially since the clothes were form-fitting, and he preferred black, which made him look slim and his skin appear even whiter.
The camera lingered on Zhang Jue for a while before reluctantly switching back to the ice.
Dr. Qin, satisfied, turned off her phone and went to sleep.
This year, 39 women participated in the competition. Their performance would last about 180 minutes, and the men’s short program would officially begin at 7:20 PM Boston time, so by the time the last group took the stage, it would probably be close to 10 PM.
This schedule allowed Zhang Jue to stretch a bit before diving into his sleeping bag for a two-hour nap, waking up when his junior needed to compete.
Those who saw this fell into silence.
Keiko, biting a banana, complained: “How can he sleep so well during such an important moment at the World Championships?”
Teraoka Hayato: “This is beyond just being calm under pressure; if we’re talking about resilience, Zhang Jue is already at a ‘Four Kings’ level!”
Keiko: “No, he should be at the ‘Pirate King’ level!”
Zhang Jue always fell asleep quickly. He closed his eyes, regulated his heartbeat, and slowed his breath, managing to fall asleep in under a minute.
Zhang Junbao sat next to him, cross-legged, watching Min Shan warm up under Coach Ming Jia’s guidance. His serious face, despite his doll-like appearance, gave off an inexplicable pressure, looking like an eagle ready to push a hawk off a cliff.
Xu Chao, with Coach Ming’s help, struggled to stretch, secretly admiring Min Shan, who was warming up under Zhang Jue’s intense gaze.
As everyone knew, Zhang Jue wasn’t afraid of coaches and would sometimes rely on them for comfort. Only Coach Lu could control him. But that didn’t mean Zhang Junbao was gentle or easy-going; on the contrary, he was very strict with his students, and all the students under his watch, except Zhang Jue, subconsciously tensed up.
Xu Chao had a deep respect and awe for Coach Zhang, while Shen Liu was the only one who was always gentle with the students. The team doctor Yang Zhiyuan and Aunt Ning from the cafeteria were also great at comforting kids.
Keiko jumped high, completing a land 3A like a little cannon. Then Min Shan followed suit with a land 3A, but her jumps were obviously lighter.
Despite Zhang Jue’s team producing powerful athletes, Min Shan’s physique and body type meant that she was more suited for a fast-rotation style. Her jumps resembled the ones Zhang Jue did before puberty.
The two top female skaters exchanged a glance, then silently turned away.
The air grew tense.
Zhang Jue remained comfortably lying in his sleeping bag, breathing evenly, with a rosy complexion and a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. He occasionally smacked his lips, seemingly lost in a pleasant dream.
Coach Lu glanced at him and silently draped a jacket over him.
Even when it came to the Beijing-Zhang period, in the top three groups of the women’s short program, most of the skaters only did simple jumps like 3+2 combinations or 3T+3T. Some even only needed a 3S, 3T+3T, or 2A to make it to the free skate.
Only the best of the best could push the boundaries of figure skating, with one skater doing a 3lz+3lo one day, and the next doing a 3A, taking the sport to new heights.
Zhang Jue set his alarm for around 6:30 PM Boston time. When the Pokémon theme song played, he sleepily turned off the alarm, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.
Everyone around him fell silent. Zhang Junbao removed his jacket, unzipped the sleeping bag, opened the music app on his phone, played AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell,” and held the phone near Zhang Jue’s ear.
A minute later, Zhang Jue silently got up. He neatly packed his sleeping bag, then took out his toothpaste, toothbrush, and towel from his backpack.
The athletes from other countries watching this couldn’t say anything. Zhang Jue’s behavior gave the impression that he wasn’t at the World Championships but camping.
Didn’t he have that nerve that would feel nervous?
A reporter who came over to film asked the coaches: “I’ve been filming Zhang Jue, capturing moments of him sleeping and packing up. Do you mind if I send this out?”
Shen Liu asked Zhang Jue: “Little Jue, do you mind?”
Zhang Jue replied: “It’s fine. I’ll go find a place to rinse my mouth.”
After finishing his routine, he ate the roasted potatoes, sandwiches, and boiled eggs the coaches had handed him for dinner, followed by a glass of milk. Zhang Jue was fully awake now, sat on a yoga ball, and seriously watched his junior, Keiko, Min Shan, Katarina, and Selena battle in the women’s singles from Russia, Japan, and the US.
Keiko was the strongest, with both a 3A and a 3F+3lo, plus excellent expression—she was the reigning women’s singles champion. Min Shan still lagged behind in terms of expression and skating, but these things needed time to refine. Min Shan didn’t look happy after confirming second place in the short program.
As expected, losing to the same person repeatedly affected the mindset.
Katarina’s hand movements were nice, but her performance was a bit overdone. Selena had good flexibility and expression, but her jumps had some issues with their axis, putting her on the same level as Min Shan. However, due to her nationality, she scored just 3 points less than Keiko.
Zhang Jue asked Cha Hanbuhua: “By the way, what was Xu Chuo’s ranking? How were her jumps?”
Coach picked up a small notebook: “Her jump configuration was 3F+3T, 3Lz, 2A, skating level 4, but her spins were only level 2. She ranked seventh.”
Zhang Jue nodded in satisfaction: “Not bad.”
For the women’s singles short program, one ranked second and the other seventh. Excluding the painful fact that, currently, there were only these two competitive female singles skaters in the country, looking at the results alone, they could even call themselves a strong nation in figure skating women’s singles.
He remembered that in previous world championships, due to the fact that the women’s singles in the China could only do 3+2 jump combinations for years, the commentators didn’t even know how to praise them. In the end, they could only say how standardized the athletes’ techniques were, how hard they worked, but that was because nothing else could be highlighted.
Now, however, the women’s singles didn’t require commentators to struggle to come up with forced praise because they had really become impressive.
Xu Chuo seemed satisfied with her result, but Min Shan was very dissatisfied. Zhang Junbao comforted the young girl as he talked to her. Zhang Jue stood up, put on his headphones, added painkillers to his water bottle, drank a few sips, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
When he opened his eyes again, his expression had turned cold, like a person standing alone in a forest of dry leaves on a drizzly day.
He immersed himself in his own world.
“The Lovely Bones” was a performance that made the audience sad and the performer’s emotions slide into depression. Since this program was introduced, no one could deny its artistry. It had set a world record, but it was also widely acknowledged as having the lowest viewership among all of Zhang Jue’s performances.
Some had commented that every time they watched Zhang Jue perform this program, they felt as though he had died, like the protagonist of the movie. The performer would mentally kill themselves to fully immerse in the performance.
It wasn’t clear how long it had been, but Zhang Junbao returned with Min Shan, who had red circles around her eyes but seemed much better. He calmly called out to Zhang Jue.
“Let’s go, it’s your turn.”
Zhang Jue responded: “Okay.”
The silent young man, dressed in a white costume, stepped onto the ice, and the familiar feeling washed over his body.
Zhang Junbao didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb Zhang Jue’s emotional preparation, but as he watched the child leave the ice, he felt worried.
Letting Zhang Jue continue with this performance made him uneasy because excessive emotional immersion in the short program had caused issues with clean performances in his free skate during the earlier part of the season before his injury.
However, as a coach and an uncle, he couldn’t stop Zhang Jue from pursuing his art.
Commentator Zhao Ning: “Now performing is our national champion Zhang Jue, who is 18 years old. He is a two-time World Champion and the silver medalist at the Sochi Winter Olympics. He missed the Grand Prix Final, National Championships, and Four Continents Championships due to a broken bone. This is his first competition since recovering from the injury.”
“We hope Zhang Jue won’t be affected by his previous injury and will perform up to his usual standard.”
As soon as Zhao Ning finished speaking, Zhang Jue stumbled on the ice.
Shen Liu frowned tightly: “Yang Zhiyuan said that after the season ends, we need to minimize Zhang Jue’s commercial performances and increase his rest time. His right ankle must be properly rested.”
Coach Lu was even more straightforward: “If he doesn’t recover, we’ll stop him from skating at commercial events and let him sing on the side instead.”
Next year’s 16-17 World Championships would determine the number of Olympic spots for each country in Pyeongchang, and there would be tough battles ahead. They couldn’t afford to let Zhang Jue’s energy be spent on irrelevant things.
After stumbling, Zhang Jue seemed to have snapped back to his senses. He kicked his right foot and prepared for the starting position.
At that moment, it was 9:50 PM Boston time, 9:50 AM in China. Since it was the weekend, many skating fans could directly tune into CCTV-5 to watch his performance.
Compared to the first half of the season, Zhang Jue’s “Lovely Bones” now had more of a surreal, decadent beauty.
When watching Zhang Jue’s performance at this moment, some felt as though they were in a dream, as if everything wasn’t real, but a fantasy.
With a sharp sound, Zhang Jue completed a 3A jump, but he leaned forward severely during the landing. This indicated that the athlete’s center of gravity was unstable upon landing, and he adjusted his posture to avoid falling.
Throughout the program, Zhang Jue didn’t make a single mistake, but none of his landings were perfect. “The Lovely Bones” performance was, of course, brilliant, but Zhang Jue unusually ranked fourth after the short program. He was 6 points behind the first-place Teraoka Hayato, 4 points behind second-place Carlson, and 1.1 points behind third-place Alex.
This was the first time Zhang Jue had failed to win a small medal at the World Championships after moving up to the senior category.
Zhang Junbao crossed his arms and squinted: “It’s really rare. You’re usually first in the short program. But, looking at that landing, if I were a judge, I wouldn’t give a good GOE either. No matter how well you immerse in the emotions, if your technique doesn’t match, it’s useless.”
Zhang Jue replied casually: “Well, I can make up for it in the free skate.”
Zhang Junbao asked: “How’s your foot?”
Zhang Jue looked at him, gave a thumbs-up, and said: “No problem. It didn’t hurt during the competition.”
Seeing this, his uncle relaxed.
Because Zhang Jue had just recovered from an injury, and to have recovered to this level in such a short time after a fracture, Zhang Junbao was already very satisfied. As things stood, the kid seemed to be in good shape, with a good mood, unaffected by the short program’s difficulties.
It seemed that Zhang Jue’s legendary passive skill—big heart—had evolved once again without them even realizing it.
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