The time after the team event ended and before the individual events began was once again filled with endless rounds of jokes.

It wasn’t Zhang Jue’s fault for losing his composure—some of the dirty tricks seen on the field were enough to make anyone furious. Coach Lu was such a healthy old man, yet after watching some matches, he had to take his blood pressure meds more often.

Once, Arthur Cohen sat timidly next to him with a juice in hand, trying to start a conversation. But before he could finish a sentence, he stared at the ice and blurted out a [bleep].

Just now, even their American skater had been pushed!

By the time Arthur realized what he’d just blurted out in front of his idol, he panicked, his cheeks flushing red.

Zhang Jue couldn’t help teasing: “No wonder you watch Fifty Shades of Grey, you’re a wild one.”

Arthur’s mind exploded, and he ran off like a blushing schoolgirl, covering his face.

Teraoka Hayato poked Zhang Jue from behind: “Hey, you scared the kid away.”

Zhang Jue turned and argued back: “How did I? I was super friendly to him! He just ran off by himself—I was the one who got scared!”

Who would have thought the kid was that easy to mess with?

Teraoka and Keiko exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing—this guy was totally clueless about certain matters. Definitely a straight guy.

In fact, Zhang Jue was bisexual and already in a relationship with a man. When he saw Xu Chuo eating the sweet potato chips he brought, he unceremoniously reached out his hand.

“Give me some.”

Xu Chuo broke off a piece for him and kindly warned: “Don’t eat too much, it’ll make you fart.”

After a few days of competition, the Chinese team hadn’t won a single gold. Several expected gold-medal opportunities were crushed by biased referees and dirty tactics. Even without the chips, everyone already had a belly full of frustration.

Then the figure skating team suddenly realized their own pressure had become enormous. February 14 and 15 were for pairs skating, and February 16 and 17 were for men’s singles.

Zhang Jue, Sochi silver medalist, and a top contender for men’s singles gold in Pyeongchang.

Huang Ying and Guan Lin, Sochi silver medalists and favorites for pairs gold in Pyeongchang.

Both medal hopes were packed into just four days. More importantly, the figure skating field had no room for dirty tricks. South Korea didn’t have skaters strong enough in figure skating to rig the results, so this was their best shot at gold.

And this was also the most important battle of Huang Ying and Guan Lin’s careers. If they didn’t win gold this time, they wouldn’t have another chance. By the next Olympics, Huang Ying would be 24. Even though pair skaters had longer careers than singles, both of them were already riddled with injuries. If they really pushed to the Beijing-Zhangjiakou cycle, Huang Ying might spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.

Besides, their juniors Jiang Xiuling and Luo Mi were technically stronger. While their performance scores weren’t as high yet, they had solo 3F jumps, throw quad twists, and throw 3Fs. Once they matured, the next Olympic cycle would clearly belong to them.

If Huang Ying and Guan Lin didn’t win now, they’d never get the chance again.

In this pressure-cooker moment—one that could easily crush someone—the two athletes who had endured years of injury surprisingly calmed down.

The only benefit of long-term hardship was that if you held on, your heart grew stronger.

Huang Ying’s short program costume featured a strapless inner piece made of deep purple velvet with embroidery. Over it, a sheer mist-like jacket draped over her shoulders. The hem was elegantly pleated with lace, and both the bodice and skirt had wave-like patterns—extremely stylish.

Guan Lin wore an all-black costume, with matching embroidery on the shoulders and back. Together, their outfits complemented each other perfectly.

All the figure skating costumes that year were custom-made by an international designer hired by Min Shan, who was about to become China’s first costume design studio owner for skating. As for Huang Ying and Guan Lin’s outfits, they were personally handmade by a veteran seamstress and her team. They were stunning and expensive.

It was an Olympic year, after all, and with generous funding from above, such costumes were possible. If there was one complaint, it was that their outfits lacked blue elements, which their coach Ma grumbled about for a long time.

“Olympics call for blue! You wear blue, you win gold!”

In the end, Sun Qian soothed him: “Purple works too! The rink barriers in Pyeongchang are purple. Look how perfectly Ying Ying’s outfit matches the venue!”

Coach Ma mumbled for a while but eventually relented.

No one, from Sun Qian to the athletes, considered putting the two in bright red. They were both small in stature, and red would overpower them.

Guan Lin was widely recognized as the best male partner in pairs skating—slight in build for a male skater, but refined, steady, and incredibly skilled at working with his partner. Huang Ying, while weaker in solo jumps, was fiery and expressive—a passionate, dazzling ice dancer, acknowledged globally.

In fact, they were one of the rare Asian pairs beloved by commentators worldwide. Their modern, lyrical, and passionate style won them consistent praise in the industry.

Coach Lu spoke in a deep voice: “The French pair is strong, the Black female partner rarely makes mistakes. The Canadian pair has a solo 3Lz, and the Russian team just moved up a level. Their music choice is conservative, but their throw jumps are tough…”

The pairs coach, Coach Ma, responded confidently: “Throughout the Pyeongchang cycle, the only thing that ever defeated them was injury. They’ll win.”

Huang Ying walked out of the tunnel with a commanding stride. Guan Lin followed with a gentle smile. Their presence clearly outshone the other athletes.

Just looking at their expressions, no one would have guessed they both had two painkiller injections before coming on.

Their short program was Spanish Romance, starting with a guitar rendition of Romance de Amor.

They skated like graceful swans, with smooth, precise footwork and elegant upper body movements. Their exchanged glances conveyed a deep bond only they could understand.

Whoosh!

Ice crystals splashed at their feet as the pair completed a perfectly synchronized 3S solo jump.

One commentator exclaimed: “This female partner has torn ligaments in both ankles—she essentially has no ankles. To land such a steady solo jump under these conditions clearly required incredible muscle strength. Of course, their country has the best muscle training specialists in the world of figure skating.”

Solo jumps were the element Huang Ying failed most often, but this time, she didn’t. She even outperformed expectations. The moment that jump landed, everyone knew—this performance was solid.

In the rest of the performance, this pair, who had skated hand in hand for over a decade and dated for two years, successfully demonstrated to the next generation of pair skaters what performance truly meant, what real chemistry was, what connection looked like, and what a throw jump should be.

After a textbook-level short program, Zhang Jue was the first to stand up and applaud.

But right after the program, Huang Ying said her foot hurt. The team doctor immediately fetched an ice pack for her, and Guan Lin knelt beside her, massaging her knee.

“Pain level from 1 to 10—what is it right now?”

Huang Ying winced and bared her teeth: “About a 5… not enough to stop me from competing. Just means I’ll need another shot tomorrow. Lin-ge, how’s your shoulder holding up?”

Guan Lin replied: “It’s okay. I should be able to do the quad twist tomorrow.”

Seeing his partner looking worried, he patted her knee: “Don’t be scared. I’m with you. As long as we’re together, there’s nothing to fear.”

Only then did Huang Ying smile: “Mm!”

Watching from nearby, Zhang Jue covered his nose, unwilling to endure the sour stench of their very real love any longer.

The two of them got another injection the next day.

Before taking the ice, Guan Lin extended his fist toward Zhang Jue: “You’ve carried the heaviest pressure all this time. Now it’s our turn.”

Zhang Jue bumped fists with him, then high-fived Huang Ying: “Yeah. Good luck!”

They were peers, having competed side by side since the junior division, braving major events together. Back in Sochi, the young Huang-Guan pair stepped up after their senior teammates withdrew due to injury. Despite their inexperience at the senior level, they won an Olympic silver for Chinese figure skating. Then, throughout the Pyeongchang cycle, while constantly battling injuries, they still claimed gold at the Grand Prix Final, Four Continents, and World Championships.

Like Zhang Jue, they were only one Olympic gold away from a career Grand Slam.

Now, they also bore the responsibility of winning China’s first gold medal in Pyeongchang. If they failed, the pressure on Zhang Jue, who was set to compete the next day, would become suffocating.

The program they brought to Pyeongchang for the free skate was Bridge Over Troubled Water, a piece perfectly suited to their style. The choreography was created by a renowned choreographer who had been active since the 1990s, and the program was of exceptionally high quality.

Compared to the short program’s rich romantic design, their free skate costumes were sleeker and more refined—only the hem of the female partner’s dress had a soft ripple pattern, elegant and sharp.

Francis leaned over to Zhang Jue and asked: “That costume designer must be really in demand now, huh?”

Zhang Jue replied: “That designer has always been popular. She was last year’s breakout star at Milan Fashion Week—a Russian woman.”

Francis nodded in realization: “Ah, that explains it. If she’s Russian, it makes sense. Russian artists are kissed by God. Too bad their recent choreography hasn’t been great. Their music cuts into three parts just to cram in more transitions, so a lot of the movements end up feeling rushed.”

The competition in pairs skating was no less intense than any other discipline.

Aside from China’s Huang-Guan pair, France, Canada, Russia, and Germany all had strong contenders. Germany’s pair, in particular, had a free skate just as masterful as Bridge Over Troubled Water. The female partner had been competing since the Turin Olympics—she was a legendary “grandma-level” veteran known for her rich experience and strong performance ability.

In short, these top-level pair skaters were going all out on the Olympic stage.

The figure skating fans watching didn’t dare breathe. Zhang Jue held his Lock & Lock thermos cup, watching the rink with a serious expression. Halfway through the competition, Cha Hanbuhua heard a crack beside him. He turned and saw that his senior had gripped his cup so tightly it cracked.

The “little white bull” gulped, and just then, Zhang Jue also noticed water dripping onto his hand. Without even blinking, he casually stuffed the broken cup into his bag, letting the water soak the tissues, towels, chocolate, and bananas inside.

After a fierce competition, the German pair won the free skate. Meanwhile, the Huang-Guan pair made an error on their 3S solo jump. After the event ended, Zhang Jue looked at the scoreboard and relaxed.

Although their free skate had been slightly weaker, they had taken first place in the short program.

Coach Ma jumped up in excitement, hugging his two students as he cried.

They had won! They had finally won!

Ranked sixth overall, Jiang Xiuling and Luo Mi exchanged glances and saw the disappointment in each other’s eyes. During the throw twist, Jiang Xiuling failed to catch his partner securely, and their spirals and spins were rated low.

Luo Mi wiped the corner of her eye and tried to appear less upset: “It’s great that our senior teammates finally got their wish.”

Jiang Xiuling gently leaned forward and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear: “Xiao Mi, we still have another four years.”

They still had the Beijing-Zhangjiakou Olympics ahead.

“I promise you, I’ll work even harder from now on. I’ll catch you securely every time. I’ll never let you get hurt again.”

February 16, 09:00, Gangneung Ice Arena, the crowd was already roaring.

Zhang Jue rolled his suitcase into the competition venue.

10:00, the men’s singles short program officially began!

After four years as the uncrowned king, Zhang Jue was finally ready to claim the crown that belonged to him.

 

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