Although Zhang Jue used Carnival as his free skate theme, he listened to SexyBack by Mr. J every time before going on the ice to get into the mood and showcase his sensuality.

(Note: This song was also used as the opening track for the 2006 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show—extremely sexy.)

However, portraying Carnival couldn’t be just about sensuality, because the character he was playing was still a Roman emperor—a mad, neurotic, tyrannical, and indulgent figure.

This character was multi-dimensional, making it quite difficult to portray, but since Zhang Jue started performing this program, the public saw him as an enchanting beauty.

Androgynous style really depends on looks—it’s a style that requires a balance between masculinity and femininity without being odd, but instead exuding a strong sense of beauty. Zhang Jue could pull this off only because of his good looks.

For the audience, Zhang Jue offered them a stunning visual feast. Every frame of his movements on the ice needed no retouching to be considered a beautiful picture—bold yet classical, seductive and noble. Just witnessing this beauty was worth the ticket price.

To wear the costume for Carnival, Zhang Jue worked hard to lose weight before the season began. Even though he later gained a bit of weight after a hamburger-eating contest, he quickly got back into shape by adjusting his diet. His waist-to-hip ratio was also impressive, and when he wore the costume, he had a bee-like waist and rounded hips that were hard to miss.

Ever since last year’s short program with leather pants, many people began fixating on Zhang Jue’s backside, and this trend only grew stronger this year.

Keiko Shiratsuka watched Zhang Jue’s performance without blinking, feeling like her heart was about to get lost in his charm.

He was exquisite—this man was truly exceptional! Standing in this costume, he looked like a mesmerizing demon, captivating everyone.

At that moment, a fan couldn’t help but exclaim.

It turned out that during his 3A jump, Zhang Jue made another mistake. His landing axis tilted, causing him to spin in place before finally adjusting his balance.

She muttered softly: “Ah, how did he mess up again at this point?”

Before this season, the 3A had always been Zhang Jue’s most reliable jump. Unless injury occurred, it was always flawless—stronger than steel. But this year, he had failed multiple times!

Some fans were puzzled: “He’s clearly jumping higher than before, so why is he still making mistakes?”

Only a few sharp-eyed fans noticed something unusual.

Usually, when an athlete performs a jump, they should rotate the required number of times exactly when landing. Too few or too many rotations will affect the quality of the landing.

For someone like Zhang Jue, who could precisely control the height of his jumps, his skill at rotation was among the best. His jumps were usually incredibly stable, but this season, his 3A was either too high or he rotated past the required amount.

This was a sign of losing control over his turning ability, typically happening when athletes attempt even more difficult versions of the same jump.

Could it be that he was attempting a 4A, which caused the instability in his 3A?

Boris, his old coach, furrowed his brows, sitting in the stands.

If it were any other athlete, he wouldn’t have considered this possibility. Usually, during the crucial Olympic season, athletes don’t risk challenging new techniques that could cause flaws in their current ones. But if it was Zhang Jue, this scenario seemed very plausible.

After all, Zhang Jue’s style was always one of pushing the limits.

After completing the spin, Zhang Jue didn’t panic. He quickly transitioned into a 1Lo, then followed with a 3S, performing a combination jump to cover up the earlier mistake.

The overly captivating program finally ended, and toys of Crocodile and Piggy Hero fell like rain. Thanks to Zhang Jue, Piggy Hero made its way out into the world, and many ice fans were introduced to this animation.

Zhang Jue bowed to the audience, holding the toy in his arms, and playfully stuck his tongue out at his coaching team.

“Sorry, I made a mistake,” he said.

Zhang Junbao draped a jacket over him: “It’s okay, you did your best.”

For many athletes, just having one mistake in an entire career is considered good. With only one jump having an over-rotation in this free skate, Zhang Jue’s performance could already be seen as “very impressive” in a major competition.

Zhang Jue always held himself to high standards, which was why he apologized to his coaches for a mistake that wasn’t even that serious.

You should know, Zhang Jue included five quadruple jumps in his free skate! With such a high level of difficulty, he not only balanced performance and technique but also completed all of his quad jumps flawlessly. His spins and skating were also perfect, and the connecting steps in the middle of the program were so spectacular that they left people breathless.

Such a performance would be enough to win in any competition!

Zhang Jue’s ability to handle pressure made everything seem effortless on the ice. But in reality, he held incredibly high expectations for himself.

Keiko Shiratsuka stood by and listened to their conversation, quietly thinking to herself that Zhang Jue was also a hidden perfectionist. Not only was he meticulous in creating his programs, driving choreographers crazy, but he was also far more demanding of himself than others.

Currently, the world record for the free skate was still held by Ilya, who scored 22413 at last season’s World Championships. Zhang Jue’s attempt to reclaim the record had failed once again.

But the judges didn’t score him harshly; instead, they gave him a score of 22167, which was a very impressive score, giving him a total of 33302.

Ilya glanced at him, shook his head, and sighed: “This guy never really falls apart, even when things don’t go perfectly.”

No wonder he was known as the most stable skater in the world. It was impossible to expect him to make a big mistake in a major competition and allow others to catch up. To defeat Zhang Jue, the only strategy was to perform even better, and only through sheer effort could one hope to win.

Teraoka Hayato shrugged his shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the ice.

His free skate program was Schubert’s Impromptu in G Major, a graceful and soothing piano piece.

This year, Hayato’s style was also one of the elegant, ethereal type, just like in his short program.

He wore a white base costume with blue sequins shaped like stars, a slight departure from the dreamy look of his short program, but it added a more airy and otherworldly feel.

The version of Impromptu he chose was performed by the 20th-century’s greatest classical pianist, Brendel. Both his costume and the music were top-notch, ensuring high artistic value.

Having finished his performance earlier, Zhang Jue sat quietly in the player’s lounge, watching Hayato’s routine.

Hayato truly deserved his title as the best at interpreting classical music in figure skating in the 21st century. His smooth, flowing skating, combined with this piece, created a beauty that was on par with Zhang Jue’s Carnival—just a different style.

When Zhang Jue performed Carnival, he had referenced many books on performance and especially focused on French actress Isabelle Adjani’s portrayal of a mad and neurotic character in Possession. He had unapologetically added sensual elements to his program, delivering a visually stimulating performance.

But after experiencing his spicy Carnival performance, Hayato’s program was like a refreshing, soothing herbal tea—perfectly balanced in warmth, it was calming and refreshing.

Undoubtedly, during the Olympic season, Hayato had truly stepped up and delivered a classic performance!

Chiba Takeshi sat next to Zhang Jue and commented: “Senior Jue, it seems that every time during the Olympic year, a classic piece comes out. Your free skate with Senior Vasily during the Sochi Olympics was a work for the history books. This year is the same, but there are more challengers than back then, and more classic performances as well.”

Arthur nodded in agreement: “Exactly. When fans were choosing the top ten classic figure skating programs of the 21st century four years ago, there were endless debates, and many almost fought offline. If they were to rank the top ten now, it would definitely spark even more controversy.”

The more champions a sport has, the more classic performances it will produce. Fans who love to rank things will end up arguing, which is typical when the sport is thriving.

The athletes sitting in the lounge had all finished competing. Except for Carlson, who was in a down mood after finishing last, the other three were relaxed and chatting.

Hayato also attempted five quadruple jumps but, like Zhang Jue, couldn’t manage them all—his stamina didn’t match Zhang Jue’s. It was no surprise that he made mistakes in the second half of the program.

He was calm, though, and when the scores came out, his total was 33290, just slightly behind Zhang Jue.

Now, no matter whether Ilya, who ranked first in the short program, made a mistake or not, it was clear that Zhang Jue and Teraoka Hayato would take their spots on the podium.

Arthur, Chiba Takeshi, Carlson, and the two seniors shook hands, acknowledging how tough their competition had been. While they may not make it to the podium this time, they wouldn’t stop challenging these two in the future.

The seniors smiled gently, responding with friendly expressions: “Don’t worry, we’ll remain strong for a long time. You’ll have many more chances to challenge us.”

The juniors: …

At this moment, the only person who hadn’t performed yet, Ilya, became the one under the most pressure.

Vasily looked at Ilya and sighed: “How are you feeling?”

Ilya calmly adjusted his sleeve and replied: “So this is what Jue used to feel.”

In the past, it was always Zhang Jue who took first place in the short program, and he was always the last to perform in the free skate. At that time, after everyone else performed, if others did poorly, Zhang Jue had to remain stable to avoid losing a rare victory. If others performed well, as the short program leader, he couldn’t afford to perform badly and let others take advantage.

This was a position that required a big heart, especially in the Olympic-year Grand Prix Final, which was also known as the Olympic indicator. Winning this event would make the winner the most favorable contender for the Olympic gold medal in future competitions.

Ilya didn’t want to lose, but fortunately, he had developed excellent mental strength through many big competitions, and he would never make mistakes due to pressure again.

He took a deep breath. This year, his free skate music inspiration came from the first episode of Tom and Jerry, where Tom catapulted into the sky to chase Jerry. The music from that scene was his choice for the free skate — Chopin’s Grande Valse Brillante.

It was a lively tune, and since it was originally composed for Tom and Jerry, it carried a humorous background, yet still maintained the elegance of classical music.

As someone who had already found his own style and was overflowing with artistic flair, Ilya’s connection with this piece was a perfect 120%.

He took a deep breath and, like Zhang Jue and Hayato, completed a program with five quadruple jumps.

Of course, he also made a mistake in the second half of the program and ended with a score of 220.25. Since his short program score was 3 points higher than Zhang Jue’s, he narrowly beat Zhang Jue in total points.

When Zhang Jue saw the result, he sighed: “Ah, it’s a silver medal. Looks like I’ll have to wait for the Olympics to grab a gold in an A-level competition.”

This remark drew side glances from those nearby, including Hayato’s death stare.

He had just lost the gold medal due to a 3A mistake, yet he was still confidently acting like the Olympic gold was guaranteed to be his. It was impressive how confident he was under pressure.

Hayato was used to Zhang Jue’s attitude and simply sighed: “You, stop boasting. We’ll see what happens when the Olympics come around.”

Zhang Jue gave him a fist bump. “Oh, before that, you and Keiko better take care of yourselves. Don’t wear yourselves out before the most important competition.”

He meaningfully glanced at Hayato’s arm.

During the off-season, rumors had spread that Hayato had injured his arm while attempting a 4Lz, and he had reportedly suffered a lot during physical therapy.

Hayato narrowed his eyes. “You should worry about yourself first.”

He glanced at Zhang Jue’s face. “Your physical condition isn’t as good as before. Most people’s physical condition declines as they age, but you’re only twenty and you’re already aging?”

The two senior athletes began to bicker in the rest area. Arthur, Chiba, and Carlson, the three younger competitors, didn’t dare to interrupt. Ilya, who had just barely won a gold medal, hadn’t even had time to celebrate before he was watching the exchange, then turned to Vasily and asked: “What are they talking about? Why didn’t they invite me to join the conversation?”

Vasily and Boris both paused, exchanging speechless looks.

“Are you the type to feel upset just because your friends didn’t include you?” they thought to themselves.

Then Ilya asked again: “What are they talking about?”

Standing nearby, Katerina blinked and suddenly responded: “I heard Keiko say that Hayato has been reading a book Zhang Jue recommended, I think it’s called Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Vasily asked: “What’s Fifty Shades of Grey?”

Boris replied: “I don’t know, I’ve never heard of it.”

“Maybe we should check it out when we head back?” The two famous figure skating coaches thought to themselves, silently noting down the book title.

 

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