In order to accumulate more points and improve their world rankings, some physically fit and energetic athletes choose to participate in more competitions. For example, Cha Hanbuhua signed up for the Canadian Autumn Challenger event this year.

During this competition, he encountered David and Carlsen and suffered a crushing defeat.

Cha Hanbuhua’s scores appeared on the big screen:

Technical score: 88.25

Performance score: 79.46

Free skate score: 167.71

Adding the short program, Cha Hanbuhua’s total score was 247.26.

Such a score can’t be considered low, and it is enough to rank in the second tier. However, for an athlete with quadruple jumps, it was disappointing that his technical score did not reach 90.

On the other hand, Jin Zixuan, who came to the competition with him, performed well, scoring 267.99 and earning a place on the podium. Before going up, Jin Zixuan gave Cha Hanbuhua a worried look.

As a fellow “wildcard” athlete, Jin Zixuan deeply understood the psychological pressure that comes from a poor performance in competition.

A male singles skater who just made it into the top ten at the World Championships last season couldn’t even reach the podium in a B-level event. While the competition was tough, Cha Hanbuhua fell on two combination jumps, and his performance quality was not high enough, which were significant factors in his loss.

A coach who accompanied Carlsen quietly commented: “It’s the sophomore slump, I think.”

The “sophomore slump” refers to athletes who, in their first year as seniors, rely on their talent and freshness to impress judges, but by the second year, they struggle to beat the top competitors. They hit a technical plateau, struggle to transition their performance style, and face the fierce competition in the senior division, leading them to a low point.

Many athletes take several seasons to climb out of this slump. It’s a common issue for men’s singles skaters. Even prodigies like Teraoka Hayato and Ilya have faced it. Someone like Zhang Jue, who won an Olympic silver medal in just his second senior season, is a rare exception—comparable to an SSR-level card in a game.

Cha Hanbuhua doesn’t have as much talent as Hayato or Ilya, and he lacks the advantage of nationality. Shen Liu and Zhang Junbao exchanged serious looks, both clearly concerned.

Cha Hanbuhua, affectionately called “Little White Bull,” has been training with them longer than anyone except Zhang Jue. He is mild-mannered, responsible, and diligent in both training and studies, and the coaching team has a soft spot for him, even though they don’t say it out loud. During the off-season, they specially arranged for Francis to choreograph his free skate program. Now that he’s entering a difficult phase, they are genuinely worried.

There was only about a week between the Wudi Cup and the Autumn Cup. Zhang Jue adjusted to the time difference, skated with his younger teammates for a few days, and then returned to find Cha Hanbuhua looking dejected.

Everyone who watched the competition wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how. Zhang Jue, since the age of 15, had never experienced the feeling of “maybe I’ll never be able to beat so-and-so.” Though he had struggled briefly, he climbed out of it within a season.

Min Shan, who had just triumphed over Serena in Italy, was riding a wave of success. She was full of pride and excitement, thinking: “I beat another top competitor!” She had faced fewer setbacks than Zhang Jue, so she found it even harder to comfort her second senior brother.

Because her competition was near Italy’s smallest volcano, Buska Volcano, she had taken a day to visit it with her mother, with the coach’s tacit approval, barely stopping short of having a barbecue by the volcano.

Buska Volcano had indeed been used by Italians during World War II for cooking.

Cha Hanbuhua, despite his woes, actually has decent performance skills. His emotions are delicate, his skating fundamentals solid, and his performance scores are generally high for an Asian male skater. However, performance scores are also tied to program execution.

If Cha Hanbuhua cannot cleanly execute his free skate with two quadruple jumps, it affects the overall program completion, and his performance score drops.

As the saying goes, performance scores follow technical scores. A performance score above 88 is typically only enjoyed by top-tier male singles skaters with both difficulty and consistency.

Unstable skaters don’t qualify.

Speaking of which, Jin Zixuan has actually improved a lot in his performances, but because of his inconsistency, his performance score has fluctuated between 78 and 85.

Cha Hanbuhua had originally been more consistent, but this season, Jiang Yihong’s quad toe loop (4T) has become stable, and he’s even begun mastering the quad Salchow (4S). Meanwhile, Cha Hanbuhua’s 4T remains inconsistent, and his 4S isn’t progressing, affecting this 16-year-old skater.

His frame is too wide, making his body axis in the air relatively thick, which increases the difficulty of control. This is his natural disadvantage.

Additionally, his body isn’t tight enough in the air, and his legs are not fully drawn in, which makes completing quadruple jumps particularly challenging for him.

There are only two ways to resolve this situation:

Increase core strength to enhance his ability to tighten his body.

Strengthen the muscles in his hips and legs to allow him to jump higher, thus gaining more airtime.

Zhang Junbao has long prioritized these two areas in Cha Hanbuhua’s training. However, given his natural limitations, he is destined to endure more hardship in reaching the heights that other prodigies might achieve with less effort.

In the end, Coach Lu had a heart-to-heart talk with Cha Hanbuhua.

“The butterfly in the cocoon shouldn’t think about flying just yet. For now, gather your strength. No matter what, you have a taller teammate ahead of you. You can make progress, but don’t let anxiety affect your competition mindset. Once your mindset breaks, you won’t win, even against people you could normally defeat—just like Jin Zixuan.”

Jin Zixuan, who was practicing quadruple jumps with Zhang Jue and Jiang Yihong, suddenly sneezed, causing him to botch a quad toe loop.

Shen Liu asked: “Xiao Jin, is your nose bothering you? Do you need a tissue?”

It was cold on the ice, and stopping to wipe your nose was common.

Min Shan was also facing difficulties transitioning her performance style. She could only portray lively, cheerful characters, and her short program this season, Masquerade Ball, lacked any classical feel. Fortunately, Zhang Jue’s choreography for her free skate pulled her back from the brink of a sophomore slump.

Zhang Jue, a genius at music selection, knew that ambitious, extroverted prodigies like Min Shan were best suited to performing pieces that showcased their ambition. So, he suggested the theme song from the Russian drama Catherine the Great for her program, letting her simply express her own ambition.

Why didn’t he give her a Wu Zetian program, you ask? Because Min Shan isn’t good at interpreting classical Chinese music. Most traditional Chinese music is heavy in style, and she can’t handle that.

A final note: the junior ice dance team of Sai Peng/Sai Qiong earned the chance to have Zhang Jue choreograph their rhythm dance after rigorous training. Zhang chose Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre for them.

Though this is a classic piece used by many skaters, Zhang Jue’s choreography was unique. Sai Qiong, with her cute appearance, played a girl who, after reading a storybook, falls into a nightmare. Sai Peng, meanwhile, played a grim reaper who teases and frightens her. At the end of the program, Sai Qiong appears to wake up from the nightmare, believing it was just a dream, only for Sai Peng to jump up behind her, mimicking a monster with clawed hands.

Is the girl still dreaming, or does the grim reaper truly exist, having entered her dream to dance a chilling waltz with her?

After watching Zhang Jue’s choreography, the expressions of the Sai siblings brightened. The storytelling in this program was strong, allowing ice dancers to showcase their expressiveness. As long as they skated well, they could leave a lasting impression on the audience and judges.

Top-tier choreography could elevate an athlete’s performance scores in the eyes of the judges, which was why athletes pursued the best choreographers.

Coincidentally, last year’s commercial events brought substantial profits to the Ice and Snow Center. With the Winter Olympics approaching, the leadership also paid more attention to the athletes, allocating more budget for choreography and costumes than in previous years. The right styling, combined with excellent routines, helped Min Shan and the Sai siblings excel early in the season.

Their success cemented Zhang Xiaoyu’s reputation as a legendary choreographer.

Their jumps, gliding, spins—all top-notch. The choreography was first-rate, and the music selection and costume designs were impeccable. The only downside was that Zhang’s perfectionism had caused Francis’s hairline to recede by a centimeter after leaving China, but otherwise, he was almost flawless as a figure skater.

Oh, except for his stamina.

At the Russian event, Zhang injured his foot during the short program because he got too excited and his quad Salchow (4S) was unstable. In the end, he only won a silver medal.

The gold-medalist Carlson, who won by chance, was in disbelief, almost thinking that all his life’s luck had been used up in one day. He even feared that he might get hit by a car if he stepped outside, needing his coach to comfort him while bronze medalist Kharhasha looked at him with disdain.

Fortunately, there was a month between the Russian and Japanese events, giving Zhang Jue enough time to rest and undergo recovery training.

During this period, Ilya successfully won a gold medal at the Canadian event, and he was grateful for the competition’s environment since, by coincidence, there were no Asian competitors this year.

Given that this young man had been consistently blocked by Asian male singles skaters since his junior days, making him the least accomplished of the three musketeers, even though he had a Winter Olympic team gold medal, the weight of a team gold was nothing compared to the prestige of a World Championship gold, which was a personal honor.

Hayato later competed in the China event, but due to a back injury, he didn’t attempt higher difficulty jumps, and combined with mistakes in his short program, he only managed to take a bronze medal. David won gold, while Carlson, who won silver, was completely stunned.

Carlson, North America’s top singles skater, who had been Canada’s number one since his junior days, had now become the first skater of the season to qualify for the Grand Prix Final—purely by luck!

For a time, certain superstitious fans in the skating community even began worshiping Carlson for good fortune.

“Better pray to Carlson for luck, who knows, maybe you’ll catch some of his good vibes.”

After a week of rest, Zhang Jue returned to the ice and resumed training. Five days later, he took off with an inside edge on his left foot while planting his right toe pick.

This time, he rotated 4.2 times in the air.

Then he landed cleanly.

Shen Liu clapped: “Beautiful, that’s the cleanest 4F you’ve done all season.”

Zhang Jue let out a breath. “I paid the price of inconsistent 3F and 4S for this jump. Even now, I still tend to over-rotate on those two.”

He looked frustrated. To train for the 4F, which required a 4.2-turn rotation, Zhang had asked the coaching team to assist him with harnesses to practice 5S, enhancing his rotation ability.

Because he often put full force into rotating five turns, he now frequently over-rotated his 4S, and after starting to train the 4F, his 3F—already tricky for him—had also become less consistent, with a success rate of only 50%.

No one doubted that Zhang Jue would make it to the Grand Prix Final—his skill level was high enough that even if he faltered, he wouldn’t fall off the podium. Before the final, it didn’t matter if he took gold, silver, or bronze at the events, for athletes at the level of the “Three Musketeers,” early-season results were never the main focus.

But Zhang Jue still wanted to win gold at the Japanese event because Min Shan had told him something interesting: she, along with Katerina, Arthur Cohen, Kharhasha, and others, had a private chat room just for skaters of their generation.

They often made bets on various things. For instance, when Zhang Jue went to the Russian event, they bet that Carlson wouldn’t be able to beat him, and Min Shan, the last to place her bet, had no choice but to wager on Carlson winning because everyone else had already bet on Zhang Jue.

It was, in theory, a pointless bet since Zhang Jue was clearly stronger than Carlson, but figure skating’s unpredictability often defied expectations.

When Carlson’s score came out higher than Zhang Jue’s, the chat room was filled with confused expressions. Min Shan ended up winning a case of Russian vodka, Captain America’s shield, a set of Kazakhstan gold coins, a bag of prairie beef jerky, and Japanese onsen eggs, among other strange prizes. For a while, she kept receiving packages.

Zhang Jue: “It’s not about the prizes—I just can’t let Min Shan keep getting foreign deliveries.”

So, he won gold in Osaka, Japan. Then Ilya twisted his ankle at the French event and only managed to win bronze.

Poor Ilya—Zhang Jue was sure Ilya had been in excellent form all year, so his fall at the French event couldn’t have been his fault. After all, everyone knew the quality of French ice rinks—those in the know understood.

Friends sent their condolences to the unlucky “Russian Prince,” as they say: “A skating career isn’t complete without falling at the French event.” Now Ilya career was officially complete.

Another athlete swore never to return to the French event—what a joyous occasion!

Ilya, however, was far from comforted, instead fuming with rage, and he swore: “Just wait! I’ll settle this with all of you at the Grand Prix Final!”

Teraoka Hayato: “You? Beat me? Ha! We’ll see who beats who when the time comes.”

Zhang Jue: “Exactly. Can’t believe you’re this bad after just a few bottles of vodka.”

Everyone knew that while Russians were famous for being a tough nation, poor Ilya could never win in a battle of words against Zhang Jue and Hayato. Even if he wanted to challenge them to a duel in the streets right then and there, he couldn’t cross the ocean in time.

So, he just took another swig of vodka and resolved to prove himself at the Grand Prix Final.

At that moment, Ilya didn’t notice Vasily standing behind him, arms crossed, blue eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared at the half-empty bottle in Ilya’s hand.

 

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