After the short program competition ended, Xi Ming stepped off the rink and made his way backstage. As he walked, people he passed openly or covertly sized him up. By the time he returned to the rest area, Xi Ming remembered the looks everyone had given him after the competition and couldn’t help but laugh again.
Zhao Zhengchang, standing nearby, saw Xi Ming’s expression and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is it really that funny?”
“Who told them to look at me like I’m some kind of big bad monster?” Xi Ming lay on the bed and rolled over, staring at the ceiling, his mind still replaying the scene from this afternoon.
As he’d walked past after his competition, not only had people stared at him, they’d instinctively stepped aside, giving him the feeling that the crowd was parting for him automatically. If this were a movie, Xi Ming thought the camera would need him in a black suit and sunglasses to match the scene.
With that thought, Xi Ming buried his face and laughed a couple more times.
Reality wasn’t as exaggerated as Xi Ming’s imagination, but it was close. After laughing, he joked with a hint of complaint, “I think I look pretty approachable, but it seems like I scared them.”
Xi Ming did indeed have a likable face, but by contrast, when he cooled his expression, he looked even sharper than usual. After the short program ended, Xi Ming, who had taken first place, hadn’t yet shed the edge from the rink, so it was natural that people instinctively kept their distance.
Although Zhao Zhengchang knew this, he didn’t tell Xi Ming. He just tossed a towel at him. “Go shower and get to sleep quickly. You still have the free skate tomorrow.”
At this stop of the Grand Prix, the men’s short program and free skate were scheduled for the first two days, so the free skate competition was tomorrow.
“Got it.”
Less than two minutes after Xi Ming took the towel and walked into the bathroom, a knock came at their door, and Coach You from the ice dance team poked his head in and entered.
Coach You was an ice dance skater who had retired not long ago. Compared to Zhao Zhengchang, who was already forty, he was still very young and lively. Moreover, when Zhao Zhengchang was on the national team, Coach You had also been active and on the team, so the two were fairly familiar with each other.
“Coach Zhao, I didn’t expect your Xi Ming to be this good!” Coach You slipped into the room and gave Zhao Zhengchang a thumbs up.
He also deftly found Zhao Zhengchang’s snacks and chatted while munching. Coach You had that kind of lively, free-spirited personality, and Zhao Zhengchang was used to it. He listened with half an ear, and as long as he gave a casual response, Coach You would keep talking on his own.
In summary, Coach You’s main point was that Xi Ming was truly a good young man who could handle pressure, had competitive drive, and possessed real skill. Not bad he admired that.
Because, just like the short program that had ignited the atmosphere from the very start during the day, Xi Ming had ultimately taken first place in the men’s short program, with a total score of 73.68, edging out second-place Takahashi Shohei and third-place Mikhail.
“Go for it, skate your best, and show them all what you’ve got!”
On the second day, the free skate, Zhao Zhengchang gave Xi Ming an unusually direct word of encouragement. He met the gaze of Xi Ming, who looked at him in surprise, smiled, and patted his shoulder. “You’ve already proven to me with your short program that pressure is your motivation, so of course I believe my student will take the championship.”
“I’ve always believed you’re the best, Xi Ming.”
Zhao Zhengchang’s encouragement put Xi Ming in a good mood, but before heading out to practice on the ice, he deliberately teased Zhao Zhengchang. “Even better than Qi Yu?”
Zhao Zhengchang had been one of Qi Yu’s coaches during his junior years while on the national team. Stunned by Xi Ming’s sudden question, Zhao Zhengchang gave him a speechless, firm pat on the back and sent him gliding toward the rink. “Go on, get out there.”
Watching Xi Ming enter the ice for practice, Zhao Zhengchang shook his head with a mix of helplessness and amusement. If he could joke like that, there was no need to worry about Xi Ming’s mental state at all.
If Xi Ming had had a mindset as good as this year’s before, he might have already been as famous a young skater as Yu Jinghui by now. But it wasn’t too late for his mentality to mature now.
Thinking back to how Coach You had also asked him yesterday why Xi Ming had suddenly become so mature and sharp, Zhao Zhengchang hadn’t answered Coach You then.
Now, watching Xi Ming on the ice, Zhao Zhengchang thought, perhaps it was because he’d gone through a painful, struggling period of sinking to the bottom, and so he’d naturally grown up?
Even Zhao Zhengchang wouldn’t have imagined that his student would one day wake up with an extra lifetime of memories. Though it was only nineteen years of life, he had experienced the joy of climbing to the peak, then the pain of falling to the valley, and finally the calm of accepting reality.
Xi Ming, carrying memories of such experiences, was naturally different from the person he had been before. In every competition now, he no longer fretted over whether his opponents were formidable or not. Instead, he approached each skate with gratitude and reverence, determined to leave no regrets in every performance.
“Although I’m not really affected by my opponents, what’s going on this year? So many quadruple jumps.”
Since his turn hadn’t come yet, Xi Ming watched his opponents’ performances.
Looking at the final free skate score displayed for Mikhail on the big screen, Xi Ming felt that since the start of this season’s competitions, the 4T had become as common as cabbage in the junior division.
He recalled watching last season’s competitions, where at most Yu Jinghui and Chris had landed quadruple jumps at the World Junior Championships.
Yet, just over a month into the new season, Xi Ming could easily count them off.
At the qualifying rounds, there was Yu Jinghui, who had landed a 4T last season, and in the free skate of those qualifiers, he had adjusted his layout to include a 4T in order to beat Xi Ming. At the first Grand Prix event, he encountered the two reigning kings of last season’s junior division, both of whom also had quadruple jumps. Chris went straight for two quadruple jumps, and Lancik, who ultimately took the event title, had reportedly already landed a 4S in training before the season began, even though he only attempted one 4T in his free skate.
And now, at this event, in the just-concluded free skate by Mikhail, his opening 4T had drawn cheers from the entire arena. Although it was a negatively scored 4T, everyone could see he was close to earning positive GOE.
As a result, Mikhail’s free skate earned a high score of 144.14.
“Hey, look at that this is what a true super rookie debut looks like. Not like me, no quadruple jump, getting pushed around by Chris and Lancik.” Though Xi Ming joked to Zhao Zhengchang, his gaze at Mikhail was utterly serious.
He could certainly recognize Mikhail’s skill. This was only Mikhail’s first event, and if he placed well at the next Grand Prix, he would secure a spot at the Grand Prix Final.
As Xi Ming was lost in thought, he met Mikhail’s gaze as the latter came off the ice.
There it was again the icy stare from Mikhail’s stone-cold face. Could it be that Mikhail saw him as a formidable rival and thus always looked at him with disdain? Unable to figure it out, Xi Ming could only speculate idly, watching as Mikhail, as usual, averted his gaze without saying a word.
As was his habit, Xi Ming cast Mikhail’s cold stare aside and turned his attention to Takahashi Shohei, who was already preparing. Although Takahashi had looked at him throughout the competition with the arrogance of a senior and a champion, Xi Ming found him quite endearing at this moment.
Because Takahashi Shohei also had no quadruple jump.
When Xi Ming had first arrived in Japan, he had read an article about Takahashi Shohei titled “The King of Juniors: From Jumping Prodigy to Predicament”a rather unfriendly headline.
In reality, the article was quite serious, discussing Takahashi’s stagnant difficulty level while expressing concern that Japan’s junior division lacked more top-tier skaters and might fall behind in figure skating.
“Ah, there’s pressure after all.” As Takahashi Shohei’s free skate came to an end, Xi Ming let out a sympathetic sigh.
Takahashi Shohei’s free skate, Swan Lake, was the same program as last season, but with his physical condition now recovered, his performance was naturally much better than the previous year.
However, the former junior king, known for his artistry, showed a hint of stiffness in this performance.
Mikhail had affected him or perhaps the still-unperformed Xi Ming had as well.
The gap between Takahashi Shohei and Mikhail in the short program was less than a point. Now Mikhail had leapt to first place in the free skate with the highest BV of the entire competition. If Takahashi couldn’t narrow the gap to within a point, Mikhail would surpass him.
To make matters worse, Mikhail’s free skate was dramatically themed around the Black Swan the dark, frenzied aura of the Black Swan still lingered in everyone’s minds, threatening the delicate White Swan.
And after him came Xi Ming, who had yet to skate. The tall, slender youth might still be hindered by his height, unable to push his technical difficulty further, but what won over the judges and the audience was his consistency at his current level of difficulty.
If Xi Ming skated without mistakes, and Takahashi failed to beat Mikhail, then Takahashi Shohei would fall to third place.
It was a situation everyone understood without needing explanation, and Takahashi Shohei knew it too. Unfortunately, the possibility of finishing third affected his free skate.
Neither in TES nor in PCS did Takahashi Shohei surpass Mikhail, and he dropped to third place.
What, Takahashi Shohei was still in second place right now?
Then, it wouldn’t be long. Xi Ming handed his jacket to Zhao Zhengchang and glided toward the starting point at the center of the ice. Because he would make that third place a final reality.
Xi Ming stretched his body to the music, his pink gauze seeming to unfold in layered waves.
The rose spirit had awakened, bringing with it a gentle, beautiful dream.
The light sound of ice shattering drew Mikhail’s attention slightly away from Xi Ming’s performance, and he also noticed that Xi Ming had just completed this combination jump of 3F+1Eu+3S.
This was also the first time Xi Ming had performed this jump this season; in previous performances, his three-jump combinations had more often favored a 3F followed by a two-rotation T jump or a Lo jump.
This naturally gave Xi Ming a higher jump score, and Mikhail also noticed that one of his two-jump combinations had quietly become a 3A+2T. Although it wasn’t a particularly well-executed combination, as long as there was no fall or step-out, even if the judges deducted some execution points, it would only be a small amount.
Indeed, just like the first time he had seen Xi Ming compete, amidst the unstable performances of many junior skaters, Xi Ming always seemed able to complete his program as steadily as possible.
It seemed that even with a higher base value in his own free skate than Xi Ming’s, it would be unlikely for him to win.
As Xi Ming’s free skate entered its final layback spin, Mikhail thought this with a hint of regret.
But that regret was only a very faint emotion; Mikhail was mostly just staring intently at Xi Ming, who was spinning in the center of the rink like a blooming rose.
“How beautiful.” Although this wasn’t the first time he had seen this program, nor the first time he had seen this final spin, Mikhail couldn’t help but let out an exclamation.
So far, Xi Ming had performed “Spirit of the Rose” three times, and Mikhail’s feelings had been different each time he watched.
And today’s rose was a proud, thorny one, seemingly declaring to him and Takahashi Shohei that they could only admire it from afar at the boards.
Though he didn’t know what Takahashi Shohei thought, Mikhail felt it wasn’t bad. He liked Xi Ming’s performance, and had liked it from the very first moment he saw it.
That kind of joyful, delightful, or dreamlike performance, brimming with upward vitality, was something the current Mikhail could not produce.
So being in the same Grand Prix event as Xi Ming had made Mikhail very happy, and he had even wanted to become friends with him. Unfortunately, it seemed that neither Xi Ming nor his coach understood Russian, and the looks he had sent Xi Ming to convey his desire for friendship had been ignored.
Perhaps Xi Ming was just shy Asians tended to be reserved and bashful, after all.
Sitting in the kiss and cry area, Xi Ming naturally had no idea he had missed out on Mikhail’s offer of friendship; he was simply happily hugging Zhao Zhengchang when his score came up.
Xi Ming ranked first in the free skate with 145.27, and also first overall.
That meant Xi Ming had won the Japan Grand Prix.
Xi Ming finally let go of the state he had been maintaining, relaxing his shoulders with a slump, then made a cheerful V sign at the camera still focused on him, his eyes curving into a smile.
He had done it champion!