The schedule for this year’s Grand Prix was very tight. The third event in China had just ended, and five days later, the Russian event was about to start.

So, after Zhang Jue’s competition in Shanghai concluded, he immediately boarded a plane to Moscow.

On the plane, Shen Liu told him: “This stage will be even tougher than the one in the U.S. The Russian judges favor their own skaters even more than the European and American judges do, and both Sergey and Ilya are competing here.”

Among the six stages of this season’s Grand Prix, the Russian event was recognized as the fiercest battleground, gathering the three best young talents and a second-ranked Russian skater.

Fortunately, Vasily, the top Russian skater, had chosen to compete in the Canadian and Japanese events this year. If he were here, it would be uncertain if Zhang Jue could even make it to the podium.

The Russian judges were known for ensuring that all three podium spots were taken by their own skaters.

“You need to be prepared for biased scoring. When I competed there as a young skater, some spectators would boo clean performances to support Vasily, jeer, and shout during his competitors’ routines. I’m not saying it will happen this time, but… Zhang Jue, are you listening?”

Zhang Jue was nestled against Zhang Junbao, breathing evenly, clearly in a deep sleep.

Zhang Junbao wrapped him in a blanket and signaled Shen Liu to keep quiet.

“He rarely sleeps this well on a plane. We can talk about this after we land.”

Shen Liu smiled, nodded, and turned to ask the flight attendant for another blanket, covering Zhang Junbao as well.

“Rest up. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

They slept all the way to Moscow. When they got off the plane, Zhang Junbao held onto Zhang Jue tightly, worried that his groggy nephew might get swept away by the crowd.

The last thing he wanted was to have to go to the airport service center and have them announce: “Would the lost Chinese child Zhang Jue please come to the center? Your uncle is waiting for you.”

That would be too embarrassing.

And if Zhang Jue really did get lost, Zhang Junbao doubted if he could even understand the heavily accented English announcements.

Luckily, Zhang Jue, still half-asleep, followed his uncle obediently without wandering off.

Shen Liu dragged the suitcase, Yang Zhiyuan carried a bulging backpack, and the group of men surrounded Zhang Jue as they left the airport.

By the time Zhang Jue woke up, they were already in the car.

Seeing him awake, Shen Liu handed him a paper bag: “Awake? Have a sandwich. You can sleep more when we get to the hotel. By morning, you should be over the jet lag. By the way, can you handle the taste of sour cream?”

Russian sandwiches often included pickles and sour cream, and Shen Liu worried Zhang Jue might not like it. However, Zhang Jue’s tendency to gain weight wasn’t just because of his good digestion but also because he enjoyed all kinds of food and was never picky.

The kid finished three sandwiches and was about to start on a fourth when Zhang Junbao stopped him.

“What’s with your appetite lately? It’s getting bigger and bigger!”

Puzzled, his uncle handed him a fresh cucumber. “If you’re still hungry, munch on this.”

Naturally, Zhang Jue declined the cucumber. As a figure skater prone to gaining weight, he sometimes ate so much cucumber that even his burps tasted like it.

He leaned against the window, watching the Russian street scenes go by while Shen Liu advised him: “Little Jue, remember not to go out alone. There are some thugs in Moscow who target lone travelers for robbery. You look particularly small and easy to bully.”

Zhang Jue mumbled in agreement. As they neared the hotel, he saw Liu Mengcheng and Yin Meijing coming out of a nearby shop with a Russian wrap called shawarma, a common street food.

When the bus stopped, Zhang Jue jumped out and waved at his friends: “Hey, Meijing, Mengcheng.”

Yin Meijing’s eyes lit up and she called out Zhang Jue’s Japanese nickname: “Tama-chan!”

Zhang Jue didn’t mind. He ran over to hold their hands, but before he could reach them, Liu Mengcheng, the tall ice dancer, lifted him up by the armpits.
Snap.

Zhang Jue turned to see a familiar Japanese reporter giving him a thumbs up. Shiratsuka Keiko also stood nearby, smiling with a thumbs up.

If anyone in the world had bad chemistry, Zhang Jue thought, it was him and that Japanese reporter. How was she everywhere?

Keiko smiled and explained that the Junior Russian Grand Prix event would be held in St. Petersburg in two days. She had just flown here and would soon head to the competition venue.

The little girl with pigtails circled around Zhang Jue.

“I came to the hotel just to see Sister Meijing, but I’m lucky to catch one of Tama-chan’s classic moments!”

Seeing her giggle, Zhang Jue almost pinched her cheeks. Then she remembered something, clenched her fist, and shouted “Ganbatte!” to Zhang Jue, explaining it was a message from her sister.

After a moment’s silence, Zhang Jue took out a Ferrero Rocher: “Want one?”

It was the last one he had taken from his uncle’s office. He wasn’t sure if it was his uncle’s or Shen Liu’s.

Keiko happily reached for it: “Yes!”

Seeing her in good spirits, unaffected by the media, Zhang Jue felt relieved.

As sisters, Keiko often faced comparisons. She couldn’t master the triple axel, but she had a triple lutz-triple loop combo, smooth skating, musicality, and excellent spins typical of Japanese skaters. Her presentation wasn’t as mature as her sister’s, leading many to criticize her. Reporters swarmed around her, especially after her sister’s mysterious retirement.

Zhang Jue knew Keiko had a strong mentality, consistently performing well and earning medals for Japan in many competitions over the years.
She was an outstanding athlete, no less capable than her sister.

Notably, Zhang Jue didn’t see Ilya, Sergey, or other local skaters.

“Aren’t they from St. Petersburg? Shouldn’t they be staying at the hotel?”

Shen Liu explained: “Winter sports are very popular in Russia. Many famous athletes appear on TV shows, host events, and live like celebrities after retiring.”
Sergey, being a top athlete, had many sponsors and bought an apartment in Moscow. Ilya stayed in Vasily’s Moscow apartment.

In any case, they all had their own places to stay, especially Sergey, who was a well-known cat lover. He had a cat at home and even brought it with him during domestic competitions, so he certainly wouldn’t stay in a hotel.

This made Zhang Jue very envious: “I really wish figure skating was more popular in our country. That way, I could earn more money to support my house.”

Bitcoin hadn’t risen in value yet, and Zhang Jue was reluctant to sell it. Besides, it wouldn’t peak until 2021, so selling it in 2017 would be a loss.

Zhang Junbao gave him a light smack: “It’s not that there aren’t any variety shows inviting you back home, but let me make it clear, you are not allowed to participate in those programs. If it affects your training, I’ll have your mom deal with you.”

Moreover, attracting too much attention might not be good for a young athlete like Zhang Jue. Attention means both praise and criticism, which could easily lead a young, inexperienced person to lose focus, forgetting that the essence of being an athlete is training, achieving results, and pushing human limits.

After the competition in the United States, there was a flood of comments saying “Zhang Jue beat Maquen, the world number one.” The higher-ups had increasing expectations of Zhang Jue. Initially, they only saw him as a potential medalist for the Sochi Winter Olympics, but now they saw him as a potential gold medalist.
His uncle was worried that Zhang Jue might become overconfident.

However, Zhang Jue was very steady. He knew that his growth spurt was an unpredictable factor, so his goal was to achieve as much as possible before he grew taller. Everything else was secondary.

He knew he would eventually achieve financial freedom. Whether he chose to continue in the entertainment industry, invest in the near-bankrupt company he used to work for and become the boss, or go to an agricultural university to grow corn, it would be his choice.

If Zhang Jue hadn’t dropped out, his university professor planned to let him pursue a master’s degree and research space corn. So with Zhang Jue’s level, it wasn’t a problem of wanting to grow corn but not being able to grow it well.

Competitive sports, however, were different. Figure skating was not a sport where money alone could guarantee a championship. For Zhang Jue, figure skating was like an elegant and intriguing woman, fueling his curiosity and desire to pursue it.

At that moment, Zhang Jue thought he wouldn’t see the Russian athletes before the competition officially started. However, during the practice, he suddenly felt a soft, furry tail brush against his calf.

He looked down and saw a sleek, well-groomed ragdoll cat sitting elegantly in front of him. The cat had a plump body and clear, innocent amber eyes. When it noticed Zhang Jue’s gaze, its pointed ears twitched.

Zhang Jue swallowed, slowly squatting down, and tentatively reached out his hand.

The next second, a pink paw pad pressed against his palm.

A gentle voice came from not far away.

“Nina, my princess, where are you?”

The plump ragdoll cat meowed sweetly and ran towards the voice.

How should he describe it? Although he had been told that Sergey was a cat lover, the way he called his cat was so tender it made one feel sick. Even Zhang Jue’s grandma wouldn’t speak to him like that.

No, his grandma was a fierce woman who could chase people with a pole for two streets when angry. So let’s use another example.

Even Xu Dad didn’t use such an affectionate tone when calling Zhang’s mother. Wait, maybe he did.

Watching Sergey, the Russian athlete doting on his ragdoll cat, Zhang Jue felt something was off.

Just then, someone spoke to him: “He loves his cat. Just ignore it.”

The heavily accented English… Zhang Jue turned around to see Ilya holding a majestic husky, wearing the same indifferent expression as always.

Since both Ilya and the dog had ice-blue eyes, Zhang Jue felt like he was being stared at by two huskies.

Ilya pointed at the dog: “This is Boka. Boka, this is my good friend, Tama-chan.”

Before Zhang Jue could complain about being called “Tama-chan,” Boka stood on its hind legs, placing its front paws on Zhang Jue’s shoulders, and enthusiastically licked his face.

Zhang Jue: “…”

This husky had a pure bloodline.

Later, Zhang Jue learned that almost every member of the Russian national team had pets. For instance, Vasily’s family raised parrots, although he had originally wanted a bear. However, his coach and surrogate father, Boris, didn’t allow it and scolded him.

At the same time, Zheng Bo ran into the garage of a martial arts gym in northeast China, known for its weight loss programs, carrying his guitar. He saw the band’s lead singer practicing drums with the young drummer, while the bassist was tuning his instrument.

Panting, he asked: “Did you find someone to write a song? Really? How did you manage to get a song?”

Their band was initially formed in college for fun. After graduation, the drummer returned to his hometown in the south to take a civil service exam, and the lead singer became the new leader. However, after singing in various bars in H province for four years without gaining fame or producing any notable works, they had started thinking about disbanding.

Unexpectedly, the leader, who was also the son of the martial arts gym’s owner, announced this morning that he had gotten a great song and called for an urgent meeting. Zheng Bo hurried over immediately.

Xu Dela raised his hand, a proud smile on his chubby, round face: “My brother helped write the song.”

“Your brother?”

Zheng Bo looked at Xu Dela’s round face, which remained elegant even when chubby, and asked: “How old is your brother? Which school does he attend?”

Captain Jiang Xuewen interrupted excitedly: “Never mind where the composer is from. I’m telling you, this song Dela brought us is amazing. I haven’t seen such a good composition in years.”

Zheng Bo took the sheet music Jiang handed him, a piece of paper torn from a notebook with a line of beautiful, thin gold calligraphy at the top.

He read it slowly: “‘Starry Night,’ huh? This tune is interesting.”

The first half was slow and lyrical, then there was a fast-paced dynamic chorus in the middle, and it ended with a return to the lyrical theme. The structure was similar to the classic “Say You, Say Me,” but the melody was unique and of high quality, comparable to the latest songs by professional singers.

In the industry, there’s a saying: “Rock ballads are deadly.” “Starry Night” was definitely a love song, and the composer had deep feelings for the “stars” mentioned.

Zheng Bo couldn’t help but praise: “Dela, your brother is a genius. This song is excellent. He really said we could use it, right?”

This love song wasn’t some masterpiece the genius intended to use for his own romantic pursuits and then had Dela sneak it over, was it?

No matter how good the song was, they couldn’t perform it without the composer’s permission. That was a matter of principle.

To everyone’s surprise, Xu Dela pulled out a stack of documents from his backpack: “Yes, this song is for me. My brother even signed the authorization.”

Humming, this song was composed for him by his brother. Although Zhang Jue had a nonchalant expression when he handed the sheet music to Dela, Dela could see the love his brother had for him through the composition.

He loved his brother too. He would perform this song well and convey his love for his brother to the world through it.

Jiang Xuewen cleared his throat: “Let’s get started. If the song turns out well, I’ll take you to a bar in Beijing before the New Year. That bar has industry professionals visiting. If we’re lucky, we might get signed!”

 

 

Support translation: