Chapter 124 The Corridor of a Hospital in Beijing...

The hospital corridors in Beijing were bustling. Birds chirped and insects sang outside the windows. April had arrived before we knew it. Everything seemed vibrant and thriving in the crisp spring air.

The anesthesia had just worn off, and her lumbar spine ached as if it had been drilled through. The nurse came in to change her dressing, and a gust of cold air blew as she lifted the blanket, causing her to instinctively flinch.

"Does it hurt?" the nurse asked.

"good."

"It's alright, it just hurts." The nurse skillfully tore open the dressing while trying to distract her: "The second surgery is harder than the first, that's normal."

Ren Xiyao remained silent, turning to look out the window. In April in Beijing, the willows were already shedding their fluffy seeds; a clump of white fluff clung to the glass, tumbling and rolling in the wind. After the Pingcheng Winter Olympics, Ren Xiyao returned to Beijing. What awaited her was not flowers and applause, but a long and painful rehabilitation process. To complete the Winter Olympics, Ren Xiyao had received as many as eleven injections of nerve blocks.

The main components of a nerve block injection are local anesthetic and a small amount of hormones. Its effect is only to temporarily relieve pain and reduce inflammation; it cannot fundamentally cure the injury. Furthermore, the dosage and frequency of nerve block injections used by athletes within a season are strictly regulated. Moreover, Ren Xiyao needed injections in more than one location at the time.

The process of getting a nerve block injection is extremely painful. The pain is like someone is holding a red-hot iron rod and pouring scalding lava into the cracks of your bones, again and again. Every injection, every time the drug takes effect, and every time the effect wears off, is an ordeal.

Fortunately, the surgery went smoothly. However, the recovery process was exceptionally difficult and lengthy.

Outside the window, the sun blazed and cicadas chirped incessantly. Summer was already in the air, but she felt as if she were in the dead of winter, cold and heavy.

Every slight movement aggravates her wound, sending sharp pains through her. She can barely manage to get out of bed and walk without assistance.

"Xiyao, don't think too much, just focus on recovering." Her family visits her every day, bringing her all sorts of nutritional supplements. And then there's Lin Shan; the ward is always bustling with activity whenever she's there.

Although recovery and injuries are a difficult journey that must be faced, a new cycle has just begun. Everything is slowly getting better. Her body is still relatively young, and the pressure of the Winter Olympics has been relieved, so she is not as depressed as before. Ren Xiyao can always feel a sense of relief. As for the decline in competitive performance and other aftereffects that come with the injections, she can only tell herself to take it slowly with a positive attitude.

When Su Junhe pushed open the door, Ren Xiyao was listlessly watching TV. A newspaper article about her Pingcheng championship victory was in an open drawer.

"Congratulations! Olympic champion... The gold medal must be quite heavy, right?" Su Junhe placed a fruit basket and a bouquet of flowers—a strange combination of daisies and carnations—on the bedside table. Before anyone could answer, she laughed to herself, "I haven't even touched it." Her tone wasn't one of jealousy, but rather a self-deprecating teasing, though her eyes remained fixed on the medical record hanging above Ren Xiyao's bed.

Ren Xiyao twitched the corner of her mouth: "When you were being criticized for being bad at the game before, you weren't this harsh."

Su Junhe shrugged. "Back then I was young, I thought I could just endure it." She pulled up a chair and sat down, her gaze falling on the bandage on Ren Xiyao's shoulder. "Does it hurt?"

“It’s much better than last year,” she said casually. “At least this time, the pain was worth it.”

The two were silent for a while, then Su Junhe suddenly laughed: "You know what? What I envy most about you isn't this gold medal." She looked up, her eyes filled with complex emotions: "It's that even after all that fierce competition, you're still standing on the Olympic stage! I don't even have the chance to fight for a bronze medal. They didn't even give me a chance to lose. You're really quite lucky."

"Yes." Hearing the word "luck," Ren Xiyao instinctively felt the same way. Even though she could have avoided all this hardship, she knew all too well that among athletes who had gone through it, perhaps less than one percent could escape it. Su Junhe and she seemed like a contrasting case. He stopped her self-funded training but didn't provide her with a new coach or register her for major competitions. Without major competitions, there were no points. She argued her case to no avail, and could only try her luck at the Grand Prix, only to be replaced at the last minute… All paths were blocked. In those people's eyes, a 24-year-old figure skater's value was already limited. In the end, she was just one step away from ending her career in Pingcheng, a month before the competition. As for the final results in the women's singles… sigh!

Ren Xiyao took out a gold medal from the drawer and handed it over: "Want to touch it?"

Su Junhe stared at the heavy golden disc for a long time, but ultimately did not reach out.

"Forget it." She looked away. "I'd be even more unwilling to give up after touching her."

A brief silence fell over the ward, broken only by the ticking of the monitor.

"Do you hate it?" Ren Xiyao suddenly asked.

Su Junhe laughed: "Hate who? Hate the club? Hate the coach? Or hate that I'm not as resilient as you?" She shook her head: "I can't hate anymore, it's too tiring."

"But you still came to see me."

“Yes.” Su Junhe stood up and walked to the window: “I just want to see what people who crawl out of the ‘meat grinder’ look like.”

She turned around, backlit, so Ren Xiyao couldn't see her expression.

Ren Xiyao was stunned, the gold medal burning in her palm.

"Let's go." Su Jun waved his hand. "Don't risk your life next time."

After the door closed, Ren Xiyao suddenly remembered Su Jun and Yu Faguan from those years. Every time they were forced to diet until they fainted on the ice rink, the first thing they said when they woke up was always, "How much is left for today's task?" They grew up together, competed together, and even though they later went on to different careers, they shared the same dedication to skating and the same unwavering will.

Now, fate has played a cruel trick on them; one has become a "hero," and the other a "regret"...

After enlisting in the military, Kwon Ji-yong's daily routine became very regular—a routine he hadn't had in the past 30 years. At first, he struggled to adjust and it took him some time to adjust. Right now, he's lying on his bed writing a letter home.

The recruits in the next bed were gossiping: "I heard that girl who won the 1500m gold medal in short track speed skating is retiring?"

"You're still interested in this? Who is it?"

"That Ren Xiyao from China, she won a gold medal after getting over a dozen injections. Aren't you paying attention to the Pingcheng Winter Olympics? Don't you have any sense of responsibility as a citizen?"

Kwon Ji-yong's pencil tip snapped off with a "snap".

"Of course I've been paying attention. It's not like I've never heard you mention it before. But what I heard is that she wants to compete in another Games, since the next one is the Beijing Winter Olympics."

"A dozen or so injections? You want to keep pushing yourself? Are you out of your mind?"

He continued writing: "Mom, the starry sky at the military base is so clear, much clearer than in Seoul..."

He wrote half of it, then crossed it out and changed it to: "I saw the Big Dipper during training today."

One sunny day, Ren Xiyao's supervisor came to visit her in the hospital, bringing a stack of academic papers.

"Did the surgery go smoothly?"

"Um."

"The recovery period is at least six months, which is just enough time to write the thesis proposal." The supervisor pulled out a picture book: "I found some materials about the dynamic analysis of the Dunhuang flying apsaras that you asked about last time."

Ren Xiyao took the picture book and ran her fingers over the flying ribbons. The lines resembled the graceful and beautiful trajectories of ice skates, forming a stark contrast to the sharp and swift movements of short track speed skating.

The instructor suddenly asked, "Still want to skate?"

"slip."

"Doctor's consent?"

"I'm in charge."

The tutor sighed and pulled another book out of his bag: "This is for you."

It is a brand new book, "Sports Injury Rehabilitation", in its original Russian language.

Ren Xiyao smiled: "Is this encouragement or a warning?"

"It's reference material." The tutor pointed to the title page: "One of the case studies is about a speed skater on the main track, whose situation is similar to yours."

The athlete in Case 3 returned to competition two years after surgery and won a bronze medal at the World Championships.

Time flies, and before we knew it, we had entered early autumn.

Having just finished a training session, Kwon Ji-yong pulled a mint from his pocket and popped it into his mouth—his only way to stay alert right now. Quitting smoking was just too hard.

During a break, a teammate from the same period came over and asked, "Is that photo you keep looking at your girlfriend?"

"no."

"Ex-girlfriend?"

Kwon Ji-yong crumpled the candy in his teeth: "I guess so."

Why did you break up?

"It's beyond our control," Kwon Ji-yong said, folding the candy wrapper into a square.

He nodded as if he understood, "What a pity, she's quite pretty."

Kwon Ji-yong suddenly stood up: "Report! Requesting extra training!"

Having endured the sweltering summer, Ren Xiyao, at a rehabilitation center in Beijing in early autumn, attempts to walk for the first time. A therapist supports her waist, saying, "Slow down, watch your balance."

My lumbar spine felt like it was filled with lead, pulling me down with all my might.

“The muscle memory is gone.” The therapist frowned. “You may have to start all over again.”

Ren Xiyao's forehead was beaded with sweat: "How long?"

"Depending on the situation, it will take at least three months before he can walk normally again."

She grabbed the railing and suddenly asked, "Can we still ice skate?"

The therapist hesitated for a moment: "Theoretically, it's possible, but..."

"But what?"

"It may be difficult to reach the previous speed."

Ren Xiyao released the railing and stood up straight: "That's enough. As for speed, we'll practice until we can do it."

When late autumn arrived, Ren Xiyao was finally able to move around independently without the aid of the equipment. She began to try walking, and although every step felt like walking on a knife's edge, she persevered through gritted teeth.

The rehabilitation room became the place she spent the most time in each day. Stretching, balance training, core strength recovery... she completed each program meticulously. Her body, like a dried-up sponge, greedily absorbed every bit of rehabilitation nourishment, slowly but tenaciously regaining its vitality.

The new season of short track speed skating has begun, and Ren Xiyao's new season is slowly getting back on track.