On December 9, Keiko Shiratsuka stood by the rink with her bag and her younger sister, waiting for the senior men’s group gala to end so she could take her sister up for rehearsal.

The six best male skaters in the world were on the ice: Zhang Jue, Teraoka Hayato, Ilya, Carlson, Chiba Takeshi, and Arthur Cohen.

At that moment, it was Zhang Jue’s turn to rehearse, and he skated to Caligula.

Since it wasn’t a formal competition, the skaters didn’t need to complete the entire program, just the key elements to get used to the ice.

After Zhang Jue finished, the men’s gala rehearsal ended. He returned to the rinkside and wiped the sweat from his forehead when someone walked up to him.

“Jue.”

Zhang Jue turned around and saw Arthur’s face—not exactly the handsome type, with a few freckles, but among Westerners he had a strong youthful charm.

He asked: “What is it?”

Arthur hesitated and said: “Can we talk?”

Zhang Jue put his bottle of medicated water back and nodded at the coaches, then naturally threw an arm over the younger man’s shoulder and walked with him to the stairwell. Just as he was about to sit down on the steps, Arthur stopped him and pulled a flyer for a local Japanese maid café from his pocket, laying it down as a seat. He gestured politely for Zhang Jue to sit.

Zhang Jue patted his shoulder and sat.

Arthur hesitated, then said awkwardly: “This season’s program… it was the coach’s decision. He thinks I should take full advantage of my strengths while I’m still young.”

Zhang Jue nodded: “Mm, that’s good.”

Arthur looked at him nervously: “You also think my program isn’t good enough, right? I think so too… but I really want to be on the podium in Pyeongchang…”

This young man had chosen the path of an athlete because he admired Zhang Jue. He had never hidden his admiration for the young champion. Arthur had always been called the North American version of Zhang Jue—praised for his outstanding jumping talent and natural expressiveness.

Artistry was Zhang Jue’s strongest trait, but now Arthur had to give up performance aspects, leading to criticism from skating fans who thought he had abandoned artistry. He himself felt he was drifting farther from Zhang Jue. But as the most promising male skater from the U.S. in the Olympic season, he also had to shoulder that responsibility.

Zhang Jue was silent for a moment before he asked: “You know that when I started my first junior season, I had only been back in training for less than a year, right?”

Arthur blinked and nodded: “Yes, I’ve been watching your performances since then. Your talent is amazing!”

Zhang Jue scoffed: “My technique was full of flaws back then. Looking back now, I can’t even bear to watch it myself, so you don’t need to flatter me.”

“Besides, I was well aware of my shortcomings at the time. That’s why I chose to put most of my jumps in the second half of the program to get higher scores. I was criticized for that too—people said the first half was too empty and the second half too packed—but most newcomers start with technical strategies. I did too.”

He stood up and patted Arthur on the shoulder.

“But I only used that approach for one season. From the second season onward, I prioritized the program’s performance quality and artistry. I don’t think you’re someone who gives up on improvement. If you’re willing to put in the effort, one day you’ll be a skater who excels in both artistry and technique. Keep at it.”

As he left the stairwell, Zhang Jue suddenly thought of Vasily and Maquen. When they looked at him, did they feel the same way he now felt looking at Arthur?

Hmm—probably not. After all, as a junior, he had posed a much greater threat to his seniors than Arthur did now!

He was the strongest!

Masako Shiratsuka watched Zhang Jue return to the rink with his hands in his pockets and finish watching her sister’s rehearsal. Then he mercilessly scolded her.

Zhang Jue didn’t curse when he criticized people, nor did he use sharp words, but he didn’t sugarcoat anything either. He directly pointed out flaws and followed up with suggestions for improvement.

Some people who cared about face couldn’t handle that, but Keiko Shiratsuka was the type who didn’t care. Her competitive spirit was fierce, and she was willing to endure anything if it meant getting closer to gold. Like Cha Hanbuhua, she had a strong physique, but with a more delicate frame. That’s how she was able to attempt quadruple jumps in her first junior season.

If it weren’t for her stiff body and lack of elegance in performance, she would’ve been the most improved among the three new girls under Zhang Jue’s tutelage.

“…You could be more decisive before the 4T takeoff. Don’t hesitate. Hit the toe pick cleanly and trust your body to maintain the jump axis.”

After he finished, he pointed at the rink: “Do another set of 4Ts. You’re not getting off the ice until you land them.”

Masako Shiratsuka stood up straight: “Yes!”

Russia’s top junior girl, Raisa, who was also rehearsing, watched and said: “Her technique is very solid.”

Vasily replied calmly: “Yours is solid too, and you have a better dance foundation.”

Raisa’s dance background came from Russian folk dances like tap and scarf dancing, not classical ballet like most figure skaters, but it was still better than Zhang Jue’s student’s.

That day’s rehearsal allowed many junior athletes to see senior skaters perform in person for the first time and to meet competitors their own age. If none of them were derailed by injuries or puberty (which was unlikely), they would remain rivals for at least one Olympic cycle.

Masako Shiratsuka felt she had gained a lot, but what shocked her was that her sister—always glued to her phone—actually shut it off after entering the venue.

She whispered to her sister: “Is it because your roaming data ran out? Want me to ask Mom and Dad to top it up? I’ve got money too. Does your power bank still have charge?”

The girl had earned some money doing two commercial shows during the off-season.

Keiko Shiratsuka twitched her lips: “I’ve already started working. I don’t even ask Mom and Dad for money, let alone you. Also, I didn’t turn off my phone because I was out of money or battery. Once I enter the venue, I have to watch you, carry your clothes, keep an eye on your water bottle, and help Yang collect crushed ice for cold packs. Didn’t you notice your ice packs were extra full today?”

She was so attentive to her sister and the other athletes because she hoped they would look after her little sister in return.

“And when athletes are on the ice, as a die-hard skating fan—even when filming from the stands—I turn off the sound and flash. I’ve been a fan of Zhang Jue for years, but I still have basic manners!”

Ever since she learned she could come to Nagoya with her sister, Masako Shiratsuka had been on her best behavior. Before sharing any pictures with her friends, she even asked Zhang Jue’s permission to film and post.

Keiko Shiratsuka question made her feel like just being a fan automatically lowered her status.

But the truth was, she had followed her sister overseas because she was worried about her adapting to her first international competition. The national team only covered the athletes’ expenses—she paid her own way. She spent all her savings from work on this trip! Who else would be this extravagant if not for their little sister?

Keiko Shiratsuka chuckled awkwardly: “Well, lately some fans have been acting out so badly, it made me forget there are still rational ones in every fandom.”

Masako Shiratsuka sighed and pulled her sister onto the bus. She really didn’t have much money left. Thankfully, the national team arranged transport for the athletes, and she could tag along.

Instant noodles for dinner, then—otherwise she’d be eating dirt for half a month after returning home.

Just then, Shen Liu handed out bags of hot fruit juice to the coaches, medical staff, and parents: “Thanks for your hard work, everyone. Have something warm to drink.”

The bus didn’t head for the hotel. The Shiratsuka sisters were confused, until Zhang Junbao explained: “There’s a good restaurant nearby. Safe ingredients, great taste. I’ve been there before. So tonight we’re eating there—Zhang Jue’s treat.”

Zhang Jue raised his hand and asked: “Anyone have dietary restrictions? Let me know.”

No one on the bus was picky, so it was settled.

At that moment, Zhang Jue received a message—from Arthur Cohen, who had just exchanged contact info with him. Though Zhang Jue had given him a professional email before, this time he had shared his personal one.

[Arthur]: Jue, thank you so much for your encouragement. Can I really talk to you like this?

[Jue: Sure.]

[Arthur: Oh, good, but I was too excited then, I didn’t know what to talk about.]

[Jue: Anything is fine — skating, books, movies, or even gossip.]

Arthur eagerly followed the suggestion and said he wanted to recommend a book he had recently enjoyed.

When Zhang Jue looked closely, the picture the young man sent was clearly the cover of Fifty Shades of Grey!

Zhang Jue: “…”

So North American boys liked domineering CEO romances too?

A few seconds later, Arthur frantically sent ten messages in a row explaining that he sent it by mistake — though the fact he had Fifty Shades of Grey at home was now definitely exposed to Zhang Jue.

The next day, before the men’s short program began, Teraoka Hayato skated over to Zhang Jue during the six-minute warm-up.

“Hey, you didn’t beat Arthur up in the stairwell yesterday, did you?”

Zhang Jue widened his eyes: “What nonsense are you spouting? Do I look like that kind of person?”

Don’t just make things up! Ever since he became an athlete, he hadn’t fought anyone for years!

Teraoka glanced around and whispered to Zhang Jue: “Everyone saw you two alone for a while yesterday. Now Arthur’s clearly avoiding you, so we all thought you taught him a lesson.”

At that moment, Zhang Jue felt more wronged than Arthur.

Arthur Cohen was the first to perform in the short program that day. His music was Wild by Australian singer Troye Sivan.

Zhang Jue remembered that guy was openly gay.

He blinked and, recalling the surprisingly high rate of male skaters in North America coming out, felt like he understood something.

Oh—

Zhang Junbao didn’t know any of that, and just said to Zhang Jue: “His English song and dance routine is pretty good, but I still think Hanbuhua free skate is better.”

Zhang Jue shrugged: “Well, his free skate music is by Michael Jackson, after all.”

In the Closet — a piece with god-tier execution from performer to MV actress to director — as long as the choreographer put in the effort and the athlete’s expressiveness wasn’t lacking, the program would never fail to impress.

Zhang Jue figured that Arthur had probably chosen his own short program music. The evidence: although the choreography was a bit sparse, the emotions were well conveyed, and the overall performance was decent.

Indeed, when it came to music selection, it had to be left to the athletes. Only they knew what they liked and what suited them best.

As one of the most promising rising male skaters, despite the controversy over his nationality, Arthur had the skills to back up the hype. After finishing his short program, he received loud applause.

Breathing heavily, the young man looked excited, and his final score was also impressive.

He scored 108.7.

The three veterans were stunned. Damn — back in the day, it took countless injuries and tireless effort in choreography and training for them to push the short program world record from double digits to triple digits, and eventually close to 120.

Now, this guy just casually pulled a 108? No wonder the ISU couldn’t wait for the old kings to retire and make room for new ones.

Zhang Jue: I’m not stepping down.

Teraoka Hayato: Yeah, let him climb up here if he’s got the guts!

Ilya: Let’s crush him!

But before the three even made a move, Chiba Takeshi had already knocked Arthur off the top spot.

Chiba Takeshi’s short program was Lara’s Theme from the film Doctor Zhivago. Notably, the original novel won a Nobel Prize, giving the piece substantial literary value.

In terms of jump difficulty, Chiba was no less than Arthur. His skating, expression, and stamina were all superior. He also managed to place all his jumps in the second half of his program. In the end, the young man scored 109 points.

Zhang Jue blinked and showed a knowing smile. So Francis had already choreographed this program for Chiba four years in advance for the Pyeongchang Olympics?

He stretched and said: “Remarkable young people.”

But he didn’t feel any pressure. To Zhang Jue, these two were still too green. Talented, yes — but still lacking that final edge.

Meanwhile, Carlson was nearly crushed by the pressure. He fell on his triple Axel, making skating fans all over shake their heads.

Sigh — the Canadian number one had once again blown his 3A when nervous.

 

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