From April to August 2017, Zhang Jue was almost worked to death—after all, he was already in the second semester of his junior year.

If he had been the type of person who had a good relationship with professors and strong skills, he would have already found an internship through a teacher’s recommendation by now. But Zhang Jue didn’t need to look for an internship. He had already been part of the national team for a few years, with allowances, insurance, and household registration all taken care of.

At the same time, his academic performance was also quite good. Despite frequently going abroad for competitions, he never failed a final exam and consistently ranked among the top 20 in the department. Teachers and classmates alike thought Zhang Jue was very sharp.

So, the professor added Zhang Jue’s name to the development team for Sweet Zizi 2 and asked him to write a paper. If the paper turned out well, he’d be included in the development of version 3 too—and his graduate school recommendation would be guaranteed.

Everyone knew how exhausting writing a paper was, and on top of that, Zhang Jue had to organize commercial performances and attend business events. He truly had no rest.

The good news was that after a few days of recuperating upon returning to China, he recovered. Because of this, the coaching staff was secretly relieved that the upcoming PyeongChang Winter Olympics would be held in Asia. Zhang Jue wouldn’t suffer from climate adjustment issues there.

Though he had a stable mindset, his body was very particular. He didn’t adjust well to locations with significant time zone differences. It seemed even Finland didn’t suit him, and as for the event in France—well, even local French skaters might have struggled to adapt.

Now, everyone was just praying that the ice in PyeongChang wouldn’t be as slippery as Sochi’s, so their top skater could complete his Grand Slam achievement smoothly.

Because Zhang Jue had established many connections during the previous off-season, many people this year began turning their eyes toward the figure skating commercial performance market.

Everyone knew that in terms of earning power, ball sports had always been king—basketball, football, tennis, volleyball, ping-pong—each one more profitable than ice and snow sports. In past years, the top ten earners among Chinese athletes were always ball players.

But ever since Zhang Jue appeared out of nowhere, he had remained at the number one spot for two years in a row.

Rationally, everyone knew Zhang Jue’s income and popularity were tied to his face. Emotionally, they were envious of the figure skating market.

A few commercial shows later, ticket sales alone brought in over eight figures—and that didn’t even include sponsorships.

Naturally, Zhang Jue had to move. If he stayed in his old neighborhood, just the reporters alone would drive him crazy. He didn’t mind the hassle, but if it disturbed Qin Xuejun, he would be truly angry.

So, he sold that house, tidied up his cash, and bought a spacious six-bedroom, three-living-room penthouse in a highly secure community. There was even a swimming pool on the top floor.

With a chicken cage in hand, Xuejun followed his boyfriend Zhang Jue into their new home, utterly confused.

Zhang Jue gave him a shy smile, spread his arms wide, and said: “Surprise, darling! This is our new love nest!”

Qin Xuejun asked: “Isn’t this house really expensive?”

Zhang Jue replied: “But aside from being expensive, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

He snuggled into his boyfriend’s arms, kissed him on the chin, and said: “It’s fine—I paid in full, so there’s no financial burden.”

At that moment, even though they were technically just in a pre-dating phase, Qin Xuejun couldn’t help but feel like he had bagged a sugar daddy.

Then the next day, that sugar daddy squatted on the balcony, used something from school to mix up a batch of compost, and poured it into the larger vegetable garden on the balcony.

He didn’t even wear a mask and didn’t flinch, which filled Qin Xuejun with admiration—until ten minutes later when he learned Zhang Jue had seasonal allergic rhinitis and couldn’t smell anything at the moment.

While Zhang Jue was juggling school and making money, he also casually finalized this year’s choreographer, even helping arrange choreography for others on the team. But then, another issue came up.

This time, the problem lay in the music selections made by the top male and female skaters on the national team.

The leadership tapped on the table and asked: “How come, with so many athletes, not a single one picked a Chinese-style piece?”

Zhang Jue sipped from his thermos and replied slowly: “Didn’t several of the exhibition programs already use Chinese-style music? Min Shan’s exhibition program uses water sleeves, Huang Ying and Guan Lin use folding fans, and Cha Hanbuhua’s short program is a Mongolian dance. Isn’t that Chinese-style too?”

As the saying goes, all 56 ethnic groups are one family—Mongolian dance is part of Chinese style. No problem.

The leaders were speechless.

Given that Zhang Jue was the team captain and their biggest cash cow, he was always included in such meetings and even had significant say. Others rarely argued with him.

Now balding, the leader could only say earnestly: “But this is the Winter Olympics. You athletes represent the face of our nation. On the Olympic stage, you should perform something from home. Don’t tell me the judges can’t appreciate Chinese style. Back when Jin Meng and Yao Lan performed Turandot, didn’t that become a classic? Huang Ying and Guan Lin can skate to it too—it’d be a tribute to their predecessors and score some sentiment points.”

Zhang Jue lifted his eyelids and said: “Huang Ying and Guan Lin lean more toward modern styles. Turandot is an opera—it doesn’t suit them.”

Huang Ying was barely over 150 cm tall. Trying to carry the grand momentum of Turandot with such a petite frame would be pushing it with sheer presence alone. This was the Olympics. If athletes weren’t allowed to choose pieces that suited their style and were forced into inappropriate ones, they could forget about the gold medal.

If Turandot truly fit them, Zhang Jue would’ve arranged it without hesitation. But it didn’t.

Zhang Jue added: “And one more thing—if it were up to me, I’d only pay tribute to the dead. Jin and Yao are still alive, so it’s a bit early to honor them.”

The leader: “…”

Eventually, Sun Qian stepped in to smooth things over: “Alright, let’s let Huang Ying and Guan Lin choose their own music. That’s better than us interfering. Zhang Jue has been selecting his own pieces since junior competition level, and his performance scores are now the highest among Chinese athletes. Last year, the pieces he picked for Min Shan, Sai Peng, and Sai Qiong all fit them really well.”

So instead of banking on nostalgia, it was better to trust Zhang Jue’s professional judgment—he could genuinely raise athletes’ performance scores, unlike amateurs barking orders.

After the meeting, the leaders were physically and mentally drained. Zhang Jue, on the other hand, strolled off with his thermos like nothing had happened.

Sun Qian saluted the leader and said: “That’s just Zhang’s temper. Good thing you didn’t take offense.”

The leader put on a hat to carefully hide his receding hairline and sighed: “I actually don’t want to interfere either. It’s just that the higher-ups care about this stuff. But Zhang Jue made a good point—Cha Hanbuhua’s Mongolian dance is Chinese style. I’ll use that line to counter my own superiors.”

“But Captain Zhang’s temper… He’s a lot like that Coach Wang in speed skating—both are blunt and hard to manage. They need someone to protect them.”

Sun Qian chuckled bitterly: “Maybe it’s something about people named Zhang—they’re always bold. Look at the two in the ping-pong team—they’re both louder than anyone. Zhang Jue is actually pretty good; Coach Lu keeps him in check. He doesn’t usually cause trouble, just likes to annoy people. Still, he does think about the team. When everyone was picking exhibition music this time, he was the one who suggested leaning into Chinese style.”

For competitive programs, athletes had to pick styles they excelled at, and style was innate—there wasn’t much to choose from. But exhibition programs could be more flexible.

Leader: “Athletes with strong personalities are hard to manage, right? Zhang Jue must be tough to handle.”

The leader was just balding, but Sun Qian had gone fully shaved.

Zhang Jue really had a way about him. His previous head coach had shaved his head, and now Sun Qian hadn’t escaped either.

Facing the leader’s sympathetic gaze, Sun Qian was momentarily speechless. He thought: “Zhang Jue isn’t just hard to manage—nobody can manage him except Coach Lu’s cane.”

After the leader left, Sun Qian returned to the rink and found Guan Lin and Huang Ying thanking Zhang Jue.

Enraged, Sun Qian smacked the back of Zhang Jue’s head: “Didn’t I tell you—if the higher-ups ask about music selections, just shut up and let me handle it? Would it kill you not to argue?”

Before Zhang Jue could respond, Guan Lin bowed deeply to Sun Qian and said with a flattering smile: “Coach Sun, we’re really grateful. If it weren’t for your help, we wouldn’t have been able to perform Spanish Romance and The Bridge Over Troubled Waters.”

Zhang Jue interjected: “I helped too. I spoke up for you, and I was the one who booked Francis.”

Huang Ying bowed with her hands pressed together: “Thank you, Captain Zhang. We’ll never forget what you did for us.”

Sun Qian scolded the three of them before sending them off to train.

In an Olympic year, putting together a high-scoring program was the top priority. Huang Ying and Guan Lin suited modern and lyrical styles, and their music choices brought out their best expression.

Apart from the top pair skaters, the top women’s singles skater, Min Shan, chose her new programs from her favorite animated films. Her short program came from Brave, and her free skate was set to music from Finding Nemo.

Most of the skaters’ music choices had been announced early on. Once choreography was complete, they took the programs to commercial performances to get comfortable with them, refining and perfecting their routines from the upcoming B-level competitions all the way through the season, until finally shining their brightest at the Winter Olympics.

This time, the national team had done pre-selection for music ahead of a formal meeting. Zhang Jue hosted that meeting and gave plenty of solid suggestions. As a result, when the season started, the Chinese team’s new programs were widely praised.

Only Zhang Jue’s program hadn’t been seen by the public yet. Since the choreography had been completed, fans thought they would finally get a look at it during the B-level event. But unexpectedly, Zhang Jue dropped out due to a fever.

For a while, everyone was left itching with curiosity, wondering what surprise he had in store this year.

Only the insiders wiped cold sweat from their brows, thinking the short program is fine, but that free skate choice is downright bold. When Zhang Jue submitted the track name, everyone familiar with the song’s history felt a headache coming on.

Better for him to debut it later—give everyone the shock a bit further down the line.

 

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