Chapter 8. The frost on the taxi window...

The unnamed trees outside the hospital had been stripped bare by the cold snap, their branches swaying in the wind, sometimes shedding a few grayish-brown feathers. Ren Xiyao adjusted her clothes in the reflection of the glass downstairs in the inpatient building when her phone vibrated in her bag. The lock screen showed a message from her assistant coach: "The captain said if you dare bring a fruit basket, he'll throw you into the ditch behind the speed skating rink."

The smell of disinfectant in the corridor mixed with the heating system and fermented into a sour, acrid odor. It was terribly unpleasant. A nurse was pushing a treatment cart around the corner of the ward.

The door was ajar, and just as she was about to knock, she heard a loud, energetic shout from inside: "I told you I don't want apples! The fruit basket is almost overflowing." Then came a "thud," like fruit hitting the bedside table.

When Ren Xiyao pushed open the door, the first thing she saw was a hospital gown with the trousers rolled up to her knees, revealing her sunburnt calves. The team leader was leaning against the headboard, holding a training schedule. On the bedside table was a steaming cup of tea, and next to it was a pair of ice skates, both within easy reach. The floor around her was covered with fruit baskets, indicating that quite a few people had come to visit her.

"Captain," Ren Xiyao placed the thermos on the windowsill, "I found a place to make some bone broth."

"Just put it there." The captain placed the training schedule on the bedside table, grabbed an orange from the bedside table, and started peeling it: "What are you doing here? Why aren't you on the ice?"

Ren Xiyao's gaze fell on the captain's legs: "Two days ago, he just finished the competition and his waist and shoulder injuries have flared up a bit. Plus, there's no adjustment period after the competition, so he can rest for a couple of days."

"Nonsense!" The orange peel was thrown into the trash can: "Adjustment period, it's an adjustment, not a vacation, it doesn't mean you have to actually stop eating ice."

Snowflakes pattered against the glass outside the window, and Ren Xiyao felt her palms burning. The captain suddenly grinned, and his words circled back to injuries: "Do you know why I always scold you guys? Your body is like saving money. If you don't save up when you're young, you'll lose even the interest when you get older."

Hearing the captain's lighthearted banter mixed with the sound of a wheelchair rolling over the floor tiles in the corridor, Ren Xiyao couldn't help but ask, "Don't you have any ideas? Why did you have to use that ice? The quality is clearly substandard."

The captain just stared at her. His usual authoritative presence on the ice, so commanding and authoritative, now felt suffocating Ren Xiyao. But she stubbornly refused to yield. She had told herself countless times before coming here that she was the one suffering the most right now, not to act like a child needing comfort. But seeing her like this, still facing things optimistically, still worrying about the team, made Ren Xiyao unable to help but resent the injustice of fate.

Finally, the captain softened his tone: "You seem gentle and kind, but you're incredibly stubborn. Do you like skating?" Ren Xiyao nodded, her eyes reddening. The captain looked out the window, his gaze becoming deep: "Athletes can control very few things. Instead of thinking about things you can't change, focus on the present. Even if it's bad, it's still a result. When that moment comes, we're still young; we can always start over. The important thing is our perseverance."

"We can't go to Suocheng." The captain's voice was like an ice blade slicing through the protective pad: "But life goes on." Someone had painted the red Olympic rings on the plaster cast two shades darker than the actual color; it was the color scheme for Ren Xiyao's protective gear. She liked this color, always feeling it symbolized a passionate and sincere heart.

"And you? Are you disappointed that you missed Socheng this time?"

Ren Xiyao shook her head and said, "That's not what I regret. Back then, I switched from figure skating to go back to school because I always felt like I didn't have much of a chance there. I thought coming here would be better since I couldn't concentrate on skating, but now I feel like the result is the same."

"The result is always the same. In competitive sports, no one has a perfect ending. Everyone has their regrets. Time waits for no one, and age doesn't forgive. In the end, everyone retires, right?" The captain grabbed the thermos, unscrewed the lid, and steam splattered her face. "What are you afraid of? One competition is still one competition, one event is still one competition. If you can only compete for one year and then give up, then you should go back to school! The country trained you, what does that have to do with those other people? You won the gold medal for the country." She took a sip of soup, burning her tongue. "This soup is too salty! How much salt did you put in too much?!" Ren Xiyao licked her lips awkwardly. She had been a little distracted while making it. She probably added salt twice.

The captain frowned, hesitating for a while before finally putting down the soup. He reached for the ice skates on the bedside table and gently stroked the blades: "Do you know why I've kept these ice skates all this time? Even though they can no longer be used on the ice."

Ren Xiyao shook her head.

"These are the skates I used when I first participated in the Winter Olympics." The captain's voice was calm, but his eyes showed determination: "I was injured back then, and the doctor said I might never be able to skate again, but I didn't believe it. Later, I won a gold medal wearing these skates."

Ren Xiyao looked up at the ice blade in the captain's hand, and a strange emotion welled up in her heart.

"Xiyao, you're a promising talent." The captain handed her the skates. "Don't let these things hold you back. Short track speed skating is a tough path, but because of your passion, you'll definitely be able to persevere."

Ren Xiyao took the ice skate, her fingers touching the cold blade, but her heart warmed. She took a deep breath and nodded: "Captain, I understand. I'll figure it out."

The captain smiled and patted her on the shoulder: "That's right. When you were making a fuss about switching majors back then, your mother came to me with your grades from the gifted youth program, asking what kind of magic potion she'd given you. You're smart, you can do anything well. Your family is well-off, you'd be set for life even if you didn't do anything. But you love skating, and I believe that passion can overcome any obstacle. So many people go through life without finding their true passion. They live a mediocre life swept along by worldly pressures. You found a passion you're willing to dedicate everything to at such a young age, that's already a blessing, and you should cherish it. That's the reason I gave to your mother. And that's what I wanted to tell you today."

The Parisian night wind whipped up a light drizzle that pattered against the hotel windows. Kwon Ji-yong unlocked his phone for the nth time. The chat window was still showing a message he'd sent yesterday: "How's training?" The message was sent at 3 PM, and it was now 10 PM the next day in Paris.

The makeup artist came over with a powder puff to touch up his makeup, and he instinctively dodged to the side, bumping into the corner of the table where the champagne tower was placed. The crystal glasses jingled and rattled, and his manager quickly steadied the table: "GDxi, it's time to go out."

The camera flashes outside the venue were blinding, and he was completely distracted. But once inside the show, facing the cameras, Kwon Ji-yong quickly got into character. He smiled and greeted those around him, behaving politely and speaking with ease; every movement he made seemed effortless.

The runway was brightly lit, music played softly, and models walked the catwalk one after another. Kwon Ji-yong sat in the front row, watching the performance intently, occasionally exchanging a few words with the person next to him in hushed tones, his face always bearing a composed expression.

However, his mind wasn't entirely on the show; he didn't remember anything about what was displayed. His thoughts were constantly on Ren Xiyao, thousands of miles away. From yesterday to today, it was as if she had completely disappeared. That intense unease and worry made him extremely anxious.

After the show, Kwon Ji-yong stood up and said goodbye to everyone around him. His movements were still composed, but in contrast to his composure, as soon as he returned backstage and found a secluded corner, he grabbed his phone, intending to try contacting Ren Xiyao again. But it was at that moment that a message notification suddenly went off.

"I just went to see the team leader. She told me not to be a coward. It's just that she still has a bad temper."

Kwon Ji-yong unconsciously squatted down, his back pressed against the cold tiles, and finally breathed a sigh of relief. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before he finally sent a voice message: "Did she swear?"

A smiley face quickly replied: "Criticizing my soup for being too salty."

He chuckled, ignoring the curious stares of the staff around him. After hesitating for a while, he finally dialed the number. Soon, Ren Xiyao's voice came through the phone. Quan Zhilong held the phone to his ear and heard Ren Xiyao say, "The captain said that skating in one competition or one term is still skating, and it has nothing to do with anything else. If you can't even understand this simple logic, then I should go back to school. But I still want to skate, so I will try my best to figure it out."

"What..." He was interrupted before he could finish speaking.

"I'll be back at the ice rink tomorrow." Her voice was filled with laughter, but also with a sense of ease and determination: "The captain said that if I don't train for more than three days, the whole world will know."

Kwon Ji-yong reached into his pocket for a mint, the rustling sound of peeling the wrapper carried over the phone: "Oh, right, I just remembered, there's a shop in Paris that makes really good nougat, I love it, could you bring me some back?" Ren Xiyao suddenly said, "The kind with lots of almonds."

"When are you coming back? Will... will you come back?" Kwon Ji-yong asked nervously.

Ren Xiyao thought for a moment and said, "Early February, I guess. These are turbulent times. The team's advice is for us to stay put for now."

The manager's urgent call came from the corridor. Kwon Ji-yong staggered as he stood up because his legs were numb: "I have to go."

"Oppa, get some rest. Take good care of yourself," she suddenly said in Korean.

He stood frozen, clutching his burning-hot phone, until his manager pulled him away. Night deepened, but the streets of Paris remained brightly lit. Kwon Ji-yong leaned against the car window, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside, a complex emotion in his eyes. He had some suspicions about Ren Xiyao's unspoken words; nothing about them was entirely innocent, and he always felt there was something in common between them.

When Ren Xiyao walked out of the hospital, the snow had stopped. She took out her phone and took a picture of the moon, only to find that Kwon Ji-yong had posted a picture of the Parisian night sky two minutes earlier. The moonlight filtering through the clouds and the frozen blue moon over Beijing formed a crooked circle on the screen.

"The captain said if I can't beat her in one-legged support next time, she'll shove my head into the snow." She pressed send, her breath blurring the screen. Suddenly, her backpack was bumped, and several boys in school uniforms glided across the sidewalk on roller skates, their laughter startling the sparrows in the treetops.

Kwon Ji-yong's message popped up with a notification sound: "Do you need me to get you some insurance first?" It was followed by a grinning emoji.

She smiled and put her phone back in her pocket. The hospital building was brightly lit, with white light gushing out.

"The doctor said the best outcome would be to be able to walk like a normal person."

But the captain said it was alright, the steel nails would become new bone. Life wouldn't stop at this moment.