Chapter 126 When the North Wind Blows Through the Dam Area...

As the north wind howled through the training base on the dam, February in the north remained bitterly cold. Ren Xiyao had just completed half of her regular training. Those watching from the sidelines might have thought she was handling it with ease. But the truth was, the muscles in her right leg were trembling uncontrollably, like a string stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment. Every push off the ice, every turn, was accompanied by a deep, dull pain and a burning sensation from the lactic acid buildup. She struggled to regulate her breathing, trying to suppress her body's protests with reason.

Six months ago, she was relearning how to walk like an infant. Now, those instincts that were once ingrained in her bones have become rusty and dulled after the surgery and the long period of stagnation. Strength, balance, speed, and the ability to feel cold—everything needs to be rebuilt from scratch.

As she approached the next bend, she tried to accelerate, but her right leg suddenly buckled. "Crack!" The skates scraped across the ice in a piercing, skewed arc, her knee protesting as she lurched forward uncontrollably, crashing heavily onto the ice.

"Xiyao!" The coach on the sidelines rushed over to check on the situation.

Ren Xiyao didn't say anything, she just waved her hand and struggled to her feet on the ice.

"Your muscle strength hasn't fully recovered yet." The coach frowned as he looked at her trembling legs. "We'll adjust the training plan again."

Ren Xiyao did not refute, but nodded. Her face was expressionless as she slowly slid back to the sidelines.

Meanwhile, far away in South Korea, in early March, Kwon Ji-yong sat in a corner of the military barracks mess hall, his eyes glued to the news on television. The screen displayed explosive reports about YG Entertainment, with the media describing the crisis facing this once-glorious entertainment giant as a "collapse." Stock price crashes, internal power struggles, scandals swirling... Though he was in the military, he could feel the shockwaves emanating from the outside world.

A fellow soldier sat down next to him with a tray of food and said in a low voice, "Your company is on the front page again." As he spoke, he pushed a newspaper toward him.

"Let's eat," he said simply.

The soldier in the same rank was taken aback: "Aren't you worried?"

Kwon Ji-yong picked up his plate and stood up: "Will worrying help?"

His tone was calm, even indifferent, as if none of this concerned him. His fellow soldiers were speechless, watching him turn and leave. In the rule-bound world of the military camp, Kwon Ji-yong seemed to maintain a certain precision and control, a stark contrast to the out-of-control, chaotic world outside. He suppressed all his emotions, using outward calm to cope with this sudden storm. Worrying was useless; he was trapped here, only able to wait, only able to observe. But at this moment, on a deeper level, he was truly exhausted, utterly exhausted. He was also subconsciously trying to escape.

Time flies, and it was April in the blink of an eye. Ren Xiyao returned to the rehabilitation training center in Beijing. The doctor's office was filled with the smell of disinfectant, and her MRI images were displayed on the computer screen.

"You're recovering well after your lumbar fusion surgery, but I still don't recommend you do so much exercise right now. It's best to proceed gradually." The doctor pointed to the image, his tone professional but with a hint of advice: "You overexerted yourself too much before, and you're not young anymore. You need to think it through."

Ren Xiyao didn't speak, but listened attentively. She knew her own physical condition and knew that the doctor's words were based on professional considerations.

"Is there any way?" she asked calmly, zipping up her coat.

"Lose weight, strengthen your quadriceps and smaller muscle groups." The doctor paused, looking at her. "But I still suggest you stop now. You've already won a gold medal, haven't you?"

The doctor's words carried an implication of "retiring after achieving success," which seemed like a reasonable choice for an athlete who had once stood at the pinnacle of the world. But Ren Xiyao merely smiled faintly and said nothing more. The smile was shallow, devoid of warmth, and carried a subtle, almost imperceptible hint of mockery.

As I walked out of the hospital, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Lin Shan: "Did you see that news about YG?"

Ren Xiyao's reply was brief and to the point: "No time to look."

She truly had no time. Besides her packed training schedule, she also had graduate coursework, learning the new rules, and studying game footage. All of this filled her time to the brim, leaving no spare moment for the noise of the outside world that was irrelevant to her. Kwon Ji-yong, YG Entertainment—those people and things she had once crossed paths with now seemed distant and unreal, shrouded in mist. It wasn't that she was cold-hearted; rather, she had to concentrate all her energy on her body and her goals. Her world was small, so small that it consisted only of the ice rink, the training hall, and the rehabilitation room.

Time seemed to be pressing on with a sense of urgency, and May had arrived. Kwon Ji-yong spent the entire day crawling and rolling in the mud, undergoing brutal field tactical training.

Just then, someone outside the tent shouted at him, "Kwon Ji-yong! Phone call!"

He dragged his heavy steps out and took the phone handed to him. It was his manager, his voice hoarse and weary: "Jiyong, the company might be finished."

Kwon Ji-yong stood outside the tent, gazing at the distant mountains that appeared blurry and silent in the night. He listened quietly as his manager rambled on about the company's predicament, without interrupting.

"Let's talk about it after I'm discharged from the military." That was all he said at the end.

By the time Ren Xiyao was able to stand smoothly on the starting line, half of 2019 had already passed. The summer sun shone brightly through the glass roof of the training base, casting a dazzling light on the ice. She stood before the starting line, trying to regulate her breathing. This was her first official competition after surgery; the event was the 500 meters.

A gunshot rang out.

She had a slow start. This was expected; explosive power was the slowest part of her recovery. But on the curves, relying on muscle memory from her rigorous training and a unique feel for the ice, she struggled to catch up. Pain surged through her body like a tidal wave; her lower back burned, and her leg muscles still protested, but she gritted her teeth and propelled her body with sheer willpower. Ultimately, she crossed the finish line third.

The coach, watching the stopwatch from the sidelines, had a look of satisfaction on his face: "0.5 seconds faster than last month."

Ren Xiyao supported herself on her knees, panting heavily, sweat streaming down her face. The pain in her lower back made it almost impossible for her to stand upright, but a slight smile appeared on her lips: "I'm alright."

Lin Shan rushed over excitedly and hugged her: "Wow! Xi Yao! You almost beat Xu Xin!"

As the summer winds, carrying their heat, blew toward the Northern Hemisphere, Kwon Ji-yong sat backstage in the military camp, flipping through a stack of letters.

He recognized her at a glance. Even though she was just sitting on the sidelines, even though she was injured, she still came back. On the back of the photo was a simple line of text: "She's back." No signature, no extra words, just like Ren Xiyao herself—direct and precise.

He didn't know what she had been through, but he could imagine the enormous price she had paid for her "return." This silent support and concern, at a time when he was mired in difficulties, was like a clear stream, soothing his heart. He carefully put the photos away, stood up, and went to hand over his shift.

The winter sports season has officially begun. After a year and a half, she once again stood on the podium. The silver medal around her neck, its heavy weight a reminder that her hard work was gradually paying off.

In the third leg of the league, the 1500-meter final, she lost to Lan Hai's young athlete by 0.2 seconds.

"Great job, Xiyao!" Xu Qinghe slid over and patted her shoulder with a smile: "You're recovering well."

On the way back to the locker room, Lin Shan whispered to her, "There's a result regarding the YG matter, his teammate..."

Ren Xiyao was bending over to tie ice skates when she heard this. She just gave a soft "hmm" and continued what she was doing without looking up.

Seoul's first snow fell quietly in late autumn and early winter. Kwon Ji-yong packed his bags at the military camp, preparing for his upcoming discharge. He packed all his belongings from the past two years: finally, he pulled out that group photo from under his pillow. The edges of the photo were roughened by his fingers, but the image was still clear.

A fellow soldier peeked in, saw him packing his things, and said with a smile, "You'll be free tomorrow, aren't you excited?"

Kwon Ji-yong stuffed the photo into the innermost compartment of his wallet, zipped up his suitcase, and said in a calm tone that revealed no emotion, "It's alright."

"I heard your company is a mess."

"Um."

Kwon Ji-yong interrupted him, walked to the window, and looked at the snowflakes falling outside: "Take a nap first."

On the last day of 2019, Ren Xiyao didn't go home but spent the day at the Bashang training base. The training base was brightly lit on New Year's Eve, but there was no revelry, only focused concentration. She sat at her desk, a thick stack of training data reports spread out before her: physical fitness test data, ice timing data, technical analysis reports… Based on this data, she meticulously formulated her 2020 training plan.

On the same day, Kwon Ji-yong was officially discharged from the military. Countless media reporters swarmed in, their flashes going off everywhere. He stood in front of the cameras, in his military uniform, saluted, and then faced the first question posed by the media: "What are your thoughts on the current situation at YG Entertainment?"

The question was sharp and direct, instantly pulling him back to the turbulent reality. He took a deep breath, his eyes resolute.

They are still separated by mountains and seas, by national borders, and by the hustle and bustle and silence of their respective worlds. In 2019, they each endured hardship and rebirth amidst ice and fire. Ren Xiyao regained her strength to stand and glide on the ice and launched her charge towards the competition. G-Dragon, having weathered the collapse of the industry within its confines, prepared to face the unknown challenges that awaited him.

Ren Xiyao wrote "50 minutes more every day" on her training sheet. It was a challenge she issued to her body and a declaration of war against the future.

In his discharge speech, Kwon Ji-yong said, "A new year, a fresh start." This is Kwon Ji-yong's expectation for the future.