Chapter 127 February 2020…

February 2020 was destined to be a year that would go down in history. Ren Xiyao stared at the notification slip, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the kinesiology tape on her left shoulder. Underneath her speed skating suit was a body covered in kinesiology tape, and her old injury still ached faintly after the high-intensity training.

Notice Regarding the Cancellation of the 2019-2020 World Short Track Speed ​​Skating Championships

The coach placed the new training plan on the conference table, his tone somber: "The World Championships are over, but the test events will proceed as scheduled."

"The kind without an audience?" one of the team members asked.

“No audience, no live broadcast, the referees wore masks while scoring.” Mingfei’s coach paused, “The General Administration said to treat it as a mock exam to prepare for next season.”

Ren Xiyao didn't speak, but simply folded the notification into a square and stuffed it into her sports bag. Her bag also contained last year's National Championships silver medal; she would occasionally touch it, reminding herself how far she still had to go. At the beginning of the year, there were supposed to be championship tournaments and some league qualifying rounds in China, which she had planned to participate in to gradually regain her form. But plans had changed.

The smell of disinfectant on the ice rink was several times stronger than usual, a pungent odor permeating the air and reminding everyone of the strangeness of the outside world. However, the athletes dared not stop training; as they breathed, white mist fogged their faces and blurred their goggles. Xu Qinghe skated over, sweat dripping down his goggles: "I heard the Dutch team has stopped training?"

“Yes, where is it serious?” Ren Xiyao replied briefly.

"Then all our training was for nothing?" Some teammates asked, their voices tinged with confusion and resentment.

After a harsh winter, spring was drawing near. However, inside the YG building, there was no sign of spring. Kwon Ji-yong stood by the conference room window; the streets below were deserted, the once bustling neighborhood now eerily quiet.

“Overseas events have been canceled, and domestic events have been postponed indefinitely.” The agent pushed the tablet towards him, the data on the screen was alarming: “There are three advertising contracts left, two of which require renewal at a reduced price.” The graph showed that YG’s stock price had fallen to an all-time low, its market value had evaporated, and the once entertainment empire was teetering on the brink of collapse.

"What did the sun say?" Kwon Ji-yong's voice was calm, but tinged with weariness.

“He suggested waiting.” The agent lowered his voice, his face grave: “But the second trial is in June, and the overall situation… the outside world is very disappointed with us, even somewhat hateful.”

“Let’s make music first,” he said finally. In an external world where everything was out of his control, music was the only salvation he could grasp and control. He knew that only by creating truly moving works could he rebuild from the ruins.

Summer training is in full swing, with everyone giving it their all for the 2022 Olympics being held on home soil. At the high-altitude training center, the thin air makes every breath heavy. Ren Xiyao's heart rate monitor emits a piercing alarm, vibrating against her ribs.

"Your blood oxygen is too low!" The team doctor rushed over: "That's enough for today."

Ren Xiyao pulled down her mask, gasping for breath. Her vision blurred, and she felt dizzy. Her lungs felt like they were being burned.

Lin Shan handed her an oxygen cylinder, looking at her with concern: "The Netherlands has lifted its lockdown, and Sal has resumed training."

Saar, a rising star of the Dutch short track speed skating team, switched from long track to short track and broke three world records in the 2018-19 season alone. The landscape of short track speed skating has been quietly changing since the Pyeongsang Winter Olympics. The South Korean team, previously known for its technical skills and exceptional endurance, and the Chinese team, renowned for its explosive power, are now feeling the pressure from the rising European and American teams. Previously, the European and American teams were strong, but it was primarily due to individual strength. Now, it's the rise of entire teams. The Dutch women's team, the Italian and Canadian teams, and even the Hungarian men's team have all risen remarkably quickly.

Ren Xiyao took two breaths of oxygen, and the blurry black spots in her vision gradually faded: "How is she?"

"He posted a training video on Instagram, and it looks pretty good."

Ren Xiyao returned the oxygen cylinder to the team doctor, put her mask back on, and said with a firm look in her eyes, "One more set." Her voice was a little hoarse from lack of oxygen, but the undeniable determination in her tone stunned both the team doctor and Lin Shan.

This is Ren Xiyao's stubbornness, and also her strength. She won't stop because of her physical limits, unless she completely collapses. She must work harder than anyone else to make up for the lost time.

This summer has been unusually rainy, with a persistent and lingering downpour. But YG's high walls shut out the sound of the rain from outside, and also isolated Kwon Ji-yong in his own musical world. He deleted countless versions of his demos, sitting in his familiar recording studio, but his inspiration seemed to be swallowed up by the oppressive atmosphere.

China's short track speed skating team resumes training camp; star athlete Ren Xiyao selected.

2021 marked a true return for Ren Xiyao. Standing at the starting line, the cold air from the ice seeped into her neck brace, sending a familiar chill through her. After three years, she had finally returned to the international ice. From the start of the season, from the preliminaries to the repechage, she was constantly struggling. She was either out-skating and ranked third or fourth, failing to advance to the next round, stopping in the semifinals, or being penalized for a foul. Three years on the ice had changed so much. She struggled to adapt. Criticism constantly surrounded her—the media, the fans, and the coaching staff—all like sharp blades pressed against her lower back, urging her to quickly return to her peak form.

It took her five races to finally touch the podium. At that moment, she almost cried. But she held it back; she knew. Now, she's slowly coming back.

There is no South Korean team.

A gunshot rang out.

The 1500m final went more smoothly than expected. Sal made a mistake and fell off the track on the penultimate lap, allowing Ren Xiyao to cross the finish line 1.2 seconds ahead. Including her fourth-place finish in the 500m and third-place finish in the 1000m, she now holds the top spot in the standings. This is her second gold medal of the season. Before coming to the competition, she approached the all-around title with a "let's give it a try" mentality. The word "let's give it a try" was rarely in Ren Xiyao's vocabulary; she always had clear goals and gave it her all. But today, after experiencing so much, looking back, she has learned to face challenges with more composure. She has learned to acknowledge her shortcomings, to admit that she is no longer the young athlete in her prime, but she will always maintain a sense of awe, never give up on improving, and never give up on striving for the highest glory.

So when the all-around champion's gold medal was placed around his neck, it was unexpected, yet not entirely unexpected; it was the glory she had won back with her blood, sweat, and perseverance.

On her way back to the locker room, the team doctor stopped her with a smile on his face: "The manufacturer asked if you want to change to the gold boots?"

“Let’s customize it.” She finally spoke, her voice calm yet firm: “Embroidery 2021.”

Ren Xiyao entered a short break before the final sprint of the Olympic season, completing some commercial endorsement shoots. Meanwhile, Kwon Ji-yong sent a demo of his new song to Taeyang. The typing cursor on the chat page paused intermittently for a long time before finally typing out a single sentence: "Not over yet."

He smiled. That's why he's a brother; he understood immediately after hearing it. It was indeed the inspiration he received after watching Ren Xiyao's World Championships livestream. That love buried deep in his heart, that understanding and longing for her, burst forth like a spring the moment he saw her stand atop the peak again, transforming into musical notes and melodies. Only this time, with a mask on, he didn't know if she was smiling.

This love, from the moment he met her, has never truly faded. Her quiet strength, her soul that grows ever more resilient in adversity, is the deepest inspiration for his artistic creation.

The news photo featured her holding the World Championship bouquet, looking glorious and radiant. The bouquet and mascot obscured the ring mark on her ring finger. He turned off the notification and put his headphones back on.

In a parallel timeline, in May 2021, Ren Xiyao received a custom-made gold boot at the training base. She picked up the shoe and gently stroked it. Three lines of text were engraved on it:

2015 Gangneung

2017 Pingcheng

2021 Dordrecht

That was her glory; she believed that the most important moments of her journey were all there. This was her own career, a glorious chapter she had forged with sweat and tears.

On the same day, Kwon Ji-yong pinned a new map to the wall of his studio, circling the Beijing Winter Olympics venues in red. He stared at the map, his eyes deep. He knew she would be there, on her home turf.

Ren Xiyao wrote in her training log: "246 days left." That was the day before the opening of the Beijing Winter Olympics, and she began her final sprint. Her goal was clear and firm.

In the lyrics of his new song, Kwon Ji-yong wrote: "Ice blades tear through the blizzard, and sad endings will always be replaced by beautiful ones."