“CCTV, CCTV, this was the live scene of the figure skating event at the 2018 Pyeongchang Winter Olympics. The men’s singles short program was underway, and the second group had just finished… Currently ranked first was our young athlete Cha Hanbuhua. His free skate program, ‘The Closet,’ had been loved by skating fans since the start of the season.”

Zhang Junbao was going to accompany Cha Hanbuhua to the kiss-and-cry area, and both he and Shen Liu were outside at the moment.

Yang Zhiyuan came into the warm-up room carrying a yoga mat, laid it out, and let Zhang Jue do his stretches on it. Coach Lu sat on a yoga ball, watching his young athlete’s movements intently.

No one spoke again. The coaches had done everything they could before coming to Pyeongchang—what remained now was up to the athletes themselves.

One athlete after another went onto the ice until the penultimate group finished. The top spot in the short program was taken by Belgium’s top skater, David. This was also his last Winter Olympics. After his performance, his husband, holding their adopted son—a chocolate-skinned Latino boy—blew kisses to him from the audience.

By then, Zhang Jue had nearly finished warming up. Watching that scene, he cheerfully said to Coach Lu: “I was even David’s best man when he married his boyfriend. He’s quite a bit older than me—never thought he’d make it all the way to Pyeongchang.”

David was 25 this year—a true veteran. When Zhang Jue first met him, David was only seventeen or eighteen, fighting to become Europe’s top skater.

Shen Liu patted his shoulder and ruffled his hair: “Then you should keep pushing too—make it to the Beijing-Zhangjiakou Games. You’ll only be 24 by then. You can handle it!”

Zhang Jue gave him a thumbs up: “Sounds perfect.”

Even if the officials and coaches said nothing, Zhang Jue himself wanted to keep skating for as long as he could.

As the announcer called out each athlete’s name, the final group of men’s singles skaters took to the ice for their six-minute warm-up. From that moment on, the atmosphere turned electric.

Zhang Jue had drawn a very favorable skating order—second to skate in the final group. Not first, so his scores wouldn’t be suppressed; not last, so the ice wouldn’t be torn up by others’ jumps and steps.

Maybe Sun Qian had been right—Zhang Jue really was fated for the Olympics. Everything just seemed to go smoothly once he got there.

The final group’s order was: Ilya (RUS), Zhang Jue (CHN), Chiba Takeshi (JPN), Arthur Cohen (USA), Carlson (CAN), and Teraoka Hayato (JPN).

In the penultimate group, there were also top skaters like David, Alex and Rojas—each had at least two types of quadruple jumps, and many had three.

Just by the technical level alone, this men’s event was already the most competitive in Winter Olympic history.

Because the competition was so fierce, the figure skating events in Pyeongchang were jokingly called “the battlefield of winter sports”—with men’s singles as its very center.

During the six-minute warm-up, Zhang Jue attempted a 4F jump and felt pretty good. As he stepped off the ice, Francis, sitting in the front row of the audience, shouted at him.

“Jue, your complexion doesn’t look great—want to touch up your lipstick?”

Zhang Jue blinked, then caught the nude lipstick Francis tossed over and waved back: “Thanks, Francis.”

When Ilya took the ice, the CCTV livestream was flooded with comments, and the chat exploded.

The most upvoted comment came from a user named “Forever Lift Me High”:

“[Men’s Singles Battlefield Fighter No.1: Ilya Safoshenko of the Bear School. He was 22. Standing next to him was the Sochi Olympic champion, and the bald fat man behind them was none other than Old Boris, founder of the Bear School. If Ilya won this round, their camp’s Olympic gold tally would officially break into double digits.]”

Blonde-haired Ilya chose Beethoven’s “Fate”—also known as Symphony No. 5 in C Minor—as his short program music.

It was a piece filled with strong defiance. By the time Beethoven composed it, his deafness was beyond cure, and he had just separated from the love of his life. His world had plunged into darkness.

But if Beethoven had surrendered to misfortune, he wouldn’t have become one of the most renowned musicians in history.

Choosing this piece for the short program was Ilya’s own decision. Though known for comedic flair, he had gone through many ups and downs in his career—injuries, defeats, and doubts. For his most important battle, he wanted a program that reflected his life.

He didn’t come from a rich family either. His parents divorced before he even started school. His mother, a strong woman, worked as a chef to support the family. His grandmother looked after him. Life wasn’t luxurious, but not destitute either. Back then, Ilya took art classes—not skating—because skates were too expensive.

He used to watch other children skate from the sidelines with envy in his eyes.

They looked so fast—it must’ve felt like flying.

One day, the girl next door came back crying from a skating tryout, tossed her skates into the trash. Ilya picked them up and went to practice on a frozen lake. He fell twice, then figured out how to use the inside and outside edges to balance and gain speed.

Three months later, at age five, Ilya had taught himself two single jumps. His mother saw his talent and emptied the family savings to send him to Boris’s training camp.

Even when he encountered skating monsters like Zhang Jue, Ilya firmly believed he was born to skate. From the moment he first saw ice, he was bound to this sport.

He belonged to the ice. His fate was entwined with figure skating. He was destined to shed tears, sweat, and even blood here—and to fight for the highest throne with everything he had.

Ilya Safoshenko viewed figure skating as part of his life. Even if it meant torn ligaments and broken bones, he had no regrets enduring painful recovery.

While choreographing Fate, he asked to take part in its creation. He wanted to put his entire life into that routine.

Watching his younger teammate leap and glide across the ice, Vasily’s eyes softened.

His little brother—who had once looked like a delicate, golden-haired doll—had now become a skater on par with him.

“Ilyusha, you were glowing on the ice—so dazzling.”

He delivered a stunning performance. Panting, Ilya grinned with all his teeth as he sat in the kiss-and-cry.

You couldn’t blame him—the injury to his knee was serious, and he’d performed on painkillers.

Vasily sat with him. Two handsome “bears” stared intently at the screen.

Technical Score: 67.5

Performance Score: 49.21

Short Program Score: 116.71 (World Record)

This score was 0.68 points higher than the previous world record of 116.03 held by Zhang Jue—it was a new world record!

Ilya let out a huge sigh of relief. He excitedly hugged Vasily hard, and then suddenly realized he was hugging his fierce and unreasonable senior brother. The young man was startled and almost jumped away, but to his surprise, Vasily just ruffled his golden hair without the slightest sign of anger.

“Well done, Ilyusha. That’s exactly how you should skate.”

Ilya froze for a moment, then gave a goofy smile on his handsome face: “Yes.”

Meanwhile, Zhang Jue was already on the ice. During the 30-second preparation time before the official start of his routine, he calmly counted in his head and checked the ice conditions one more time.

After putting on lipstick, his complexion improved a bit, but the rest of his face still looked quite pale.

Zhang Jue didn’t mind. He had naturally pale skin, and now with the bright spotlights above and the icy surface below, he looked even paler—as if he had turned three shades whiter on the spot. Besides, his hip joint was severely worn down from kneeling during his engagement ceremony for Sixth Mistress. He had also taken painkillers to compete this time.

When it came to expressiveness, Zhang Jue never lost to anyone. His brilliant performance in the team event had earned him high expectations from all, and Zhang Jue himself was confident.

At that moment, Zhang Junbao received a phone call. Looking at the caller ID, he muttered in confusion: “Sister?”

The Concierto de Aranjuez possessed the most enchanting melody in the history of guitar music, and Zhang Jue was the most mesmerizing figure in men’s figure skating.

This was his love song—a prayer to fate.

No matter how many parallel universes there might be, Zhang Jue hoped to meet and fall in love with Xuejun. Whether Xuejun eyes could see or not, Zhang Jue was willing to be his sun.

Zhang Jue savored the feeling of performing this program.

Midway through, a sudden palpitation caused a slight slip on landing, which made everyone watching him tense up. Zhang Jue quickly adjusted his breathing and simply closed his eyes.

It might sound unbelievable, but Zhang Jue had indeed once snuck into a skating rink late at night with Qin Xuejun and performed this very program for him in complete darkness.

He was so familiar with it that he could perform it with his eyes closed.

When someone realized he had completed his step sequence with his eyes shut, a commentator exclaimed in astonishment:

“My God, is he a gift from the figure skating gods to humankind?”

Zhang Jue performed this program like a bottle of aged rum—rich and worth savoring. Even though the music carried a touch of sorrow, his expression was lavish and grand.

At the end of the program, Zhang Jue bent over, gasped for breath, straightened up, and blew a kiss at the camera.

His short program score was 114.25. The slight flaw in his triple Axel landing made his GOE (Grade of Execution) slightly lower than Ilya’s, but it was still a score worthy of reigning over the field.

Afterward, Chiba Takashi, Arthur, Carlson, and Hayato took the ice one after another. After a fierce battle, the short program rankings were as follows:

Ilya: 116.71

Zhang Jue: 114.25

Hayato Teraoka: 113.9

Carlson: 110.82

Chiba Takashi: 108.4

Arthur Cohen: 105.39

Zhang Jue failed to establish a lead in the short program.

He wiped his sweat and muttered: “Looks like the free skate’s going to be a tough battle. These guys are really hard to deal with.”

Sigh. Since he didn’t win the short program, who knew what kind of nonsense the trolls online would say about him? Zhang Jue decided not to go online until the competition was over.

Originally, after the event, he was supposed to return to the Olympic Village to rest, but Zhang Junbao insisted on taking him to the medical room.

Zhang Jue looked completely confused: “Uncle, I’m not injured.”

Zhang Junbao looked at him steadily, and after a moment, he said slowly: “I know you’re not injured. Just get checked anyway.”

 

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