Chapter 17 The golden dome of the cathedral gleamed in the sunlight…
The cathedral's golden dome gleamed in the sunlight, which streamed through the stained glass windows, casting dappled light and shadow on the red carpet. Ren Xiyao stood on the flower-strewn steps, watching Natasha, dressed in a wedding gown, being helped down from the carriage by her father.
"Yao!" Natasha rushed over as soon as she saw her, lifting her skirt and almost tripping over it: "You really came!"
Natasha retired at seventeen, the same age as Natasha, who is only 20 this year. Yet, she experienced a turning point in her life much earlier on the ice. Russian figure skaters, like shooting stars, shine brightly but their careers are short-lived. Their professional careers begin at age 15 when they enter the senior ranks. It takes only two to three years to win a world championship, an Olympic gold medal, and complete a Grand Slam. Most skaters, after seventeen, regardless of whether they have ever stood on the podium, choose to leave the ice and move behind the scenes or into ice shows. Their glory, written with their short youth, is a resolute and tragic elegy. Natasha is lucky. After leaving the ice, she found a career she loves, and she also found happiness in a relationship, with someone willing to start a new life with her.
Ren Xiyao looked at Natasha's slightly trembling eyelashes and recalled the last time they met at the ice rink. Natasha smiled and said, "Yao, I probably won't skate anymore." At that time, there was still resentment in her eyes, but today, there was only happiness in her eyes.
Ren Xiyao caught the hug that rushed towards her, and smelled the familiar scent of orange perfume. When they lived together in the training camp, Natasha always loved to sneak a spritz of her sister's perfume. Now, the girl's nails were painted a gentle pearl color, and a blue ribbon symbolizing happiness was tied around her wrist. She was no longer the stubborn girl who would grit her teeth and not cry when she fell on the ice rink.
"You're so beautiful I almost didn't recognize you." Ren Xiyao reached out to adjust her veil, her fingertips touching the curly blonde hair at her temples.
Natasha suddenly grabbed her hand: "Remember our bet? You said you'd get married before you turned thirty." She winked mischievously: "Now I'm going to win at the starting line."
As the organ played in the church, Ren Xiyao sat on the pew watching Natasha walk towards the bespectacled young engineer. The groom was so nervous he almost stumbled over his own feet. The priest began his vows, and Ren Xiyao could feel the solemn yet warm atmosphere. The candlelight flickered in the church, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of honey cake and roses. When Natasha and the groom exchanged rings, the groom's hand trembled so much he almost dropped it. Natasha gently supported his wrist, and they smiled at each other. During the ring exchange, the groom suddenly leaned close to the bride's ear and whispered something. Natasha couldn't help but laugh, her ears turning red.
"I do."
Natasha's voice was soft, but everyone in the church heard it. The groom breathed a sigh of relief and leaned down to kiss her. Applause erupted, flower petals rained down from the dome, and Natasha's wedding dress shimmered in the candlelight.
Ren Xiyao blinked and realized that she was already in tears without even noticing.
The banquet was held in an old villa. Ren Xiyao helped Natasha lift her skirt as they walked through the garden. She suddenly stopped and pointed to the gazebo covered in roses: "On my seventeenth birthday, I hid there and cried all night." Her fingers gently stroked the blooming flowers: "Because the coach said I would never be able to complete the Axel three weeks."
Ren Xiyao remained silent, unsure how to comfort her. In women's figure skating, the developmental hurdle is incredibly difficult; only one in 100 skaters manages to overcome it. Many promising young female singles skaters experience a sharp decline in performance after the age of fifteen or sixteen, eventually disappearing from the competition. The training here is notoriously rigorous; the Russian team has almost no female figure skaters over 19 years old still competing at a high level, and even globally, there are very few female singles skaters over 25. This is the cruel side behind the beauty of figure skating.
"Have you ever thought about what you'll do after retiring?"
Ren Xiyao followed behind, shaking her head: "I haven't skated enough yet."
“I really envy you.” Natasha suddenly leaned closer, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “It’s great to switch sports; it lets you keep skating. You’re still in your prime.”
Ren Xiyao didn't respond. She thought of her conversation with Coach Ivan yesterday, the captain's injury, and the sixteen-year-old rookie on the South Korean team.
Natasha seemed to sense her emotions and suddenly grabbed her hand: "Don't think so much! Today is my wedding!"
The long table was laden with Russian pies, caviar, and vodka. Natasha changed into a lighter evening gown, took Ren Xiyao's hand, and excitedly introduced her husband: "This is Sergei. He's an engineer and knows absolutely nothing about skating!"
Sergei scratched his head sheepishly and said, "But she looks beautiful skating."
Natasha laughed and playfully punched him: "The first time you saw me skating, you said, 'This looks dangerous!'"
Ren Xiyao couldn't help but laugh out loud.
The music started, and the bride and groom danced their first dance. Sergei was clearly not a good dancer; his steps were stiff, like someone learning to spin on ice, but he held Natasha tightly around the waist, as if afraid she would fall. Natasha leaned on his shoulder, smiling with her eyes closed, seemingly completely unconcerned about his clumsiness.
Ren Xiyao stood to the side, holding a glass of champagne, watching the newlyweds spinning on the dance floor.
Are you envious?
She turned around and saw Natasha's mother, a former figure skater from the Soviet Union. Now, wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes, but her smile remained gentle.
Ren Xiyao took a sip of champagne, the bubbles bursting on her tongue, slightly bitter but with a hint of sweetness.
"I just think...it's wonderful."
Natasha's mother patted her on the shoulder: "You'll have it too." Ren Xiyao looked at everything beautiful around her and her thoughts drifted into the distance. She thought of the night on the Han River Bridge; the way that person's clothes fluttered in the Seoul night breeze.
A champagne tower sat in the courtyard, and Natasha's ice skates were displayed as crystal ornaments next to the cake. Ren Xiyao gazed at the familiar wear and tear on the skates; if she remembered correctly, these were the skates that had accompanied her to her victory in the All-Russian Championship.
“Come dance!” Natasha dragged her toward the dance floor: “Don’t tell me the national team doesn’t even let you learn the waltz.”
They twirled to the melody of "Moscow Nights," Natasha's wedding dress brushing against her sneakers. Ren Xiyao recalled their last training session together before she switched disciplines. After completing her final spin, Natasha suddenly said to her earnestly, "If one day I retire, I don't want to be a coach or do ice shows. My skating career will end here, and I want to start over for the rest of my time."
"Natasha, are you happy?"
"I'm so happy!"
"That's good. May you always be happy. Because I suddenly remembered a saying: 'If you are happy, I will definitely shed tears before you do!'"
Around midnight, Ren Xiyao went out onto the balcony alone for some fresh air. The Winter Palace across the river was lit. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and only when Kwon Ji-yong's name appeared did she realize it was six in the morning in Seoul. She hesitated for a moment, then answered the phone.
On the screen, he is wearing a black baseball cap, the background looks like a studio, and there are several sheet music pieces scattered on the table.
"Still not asleep?" His voice was a little hoarse, as if he had just finished work.
"I just attended a wedding." She unconsciously brushed her slightly disheveled hair aside. The night view of St. Petersburg shimmered outside the window, and the lights were reflected on the river.
Whose wedding?
“A friend I used to train with, a Russian, retired at seventeen and is now married.”
Kwon Ji-yong was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Would you be envious?"
Ren Xiyao was taken aback, remembering that Natasha's mother had asked the same question.
"Even if I retire at 17, I most likely won't get married at 20."
Kwon Ji-yong couldn't help but laugh: "That's true, if you retired, we probably wouldn't even know each other anymore."
The wind in St. Petersburg seemed unusually gentle, almost fitting the mood. The wind was gentle, the night was gentle, the lamplight was gentle—all this gentleness evoked the tenderest aspects of human emotion. It was a beautiful moment that should be captured in a story.
“…Actually, I’m still a little envious,” Ren Xiyao said softly. In the banquet hall reflected in the glass window, Natasha was tiptoeing to pick a flower petal that had somehow gotten stuck on her husband’s bow tie: “You know what? She looks especially beautiful today, as beautiful as a triple Axel that would get a perfect score from all the judges.”
"Prettier than you?"
"She's much prettier than me," she laughed.
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, then he said, "I don't believe it."
Ren Xiyao rolled her eyes, not knowing if he saw her: "When can you be serious for once?"
"I'm being very serious." His voice suddenly lowered, and the sound of him bending down to open the refrigerator could be heard on the other end of the video call, as if he were looking for a drink of water: "So when are you going to be a bride?"
"I haven't thought about it." She answered subconsciously, but then smiled as if she remembered something, her face filled with longing: "If that day really comes, I can't quite imagine what I'll be like."
Fireworks suddenly rose from the river, illuminating the entire balcony. On the other end of the phone, Kwon Ji-yong chuckled softly: "Ren Xiyao." He rarely called her by her full name: "Actually, I'm right in front of the practice room mirror right now."
Between fireworks explosions, he continued, "I suddenly remembered what you said: good pairs skaters need to breathe in sync."
Cheers erupted in the banquet hall as Natasha, clutching her husband's suit jacket, searched for her. Ren Xiyao, looking at the rose petals clinging to the bride's veil, spoke into her phone, "Kwon Ji-yong."
"Um?"
Can you see the moon in Seoul right now?
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then came the sound of curtains being drawn back, followed by another long silence. Just when she thought the signal was lost, Kwon Ji-yong's voice came through, mixed with the morning birdsong: "Not very round, but very bright."
Natasha suddenly appeared at the balcony door, her cheeks flushed, holding a champagne glass: "Yao! Come take a picture!" Ren Xiyao responded and was about to hang up the phone hastily when she heard Kwon Ji-yong ask on the other end, "Who's calling you?"
"bride."
What did she call you?
"Yao".
"Can I call out too?"
"Call me whatever you want. Whatever you prefer."
"Yao." He called softly, as if testing the waters, or perhaps confirming.
Her heart skipped a beat. Ren Xiyao hurriedly said "We'll talk later" into the phone, but before hanging up, she heard Quan Zhilong whisper, "After I get married..." She couldn't hear the rest, but it felt like a feather brushing against her heart, creating ripples.
Back in the banquet hall, the photographer was arranging the final group photo. Natasha insisted that she stand next to the bride, and shoved a strange bouquet of daisies and lilies of the valley into her hands: "My bouquet was already reserved for you."
Ren Xiyao lowered her head to smell the fragrance of the flowers, recalling what Quan Zhilong had said on the phone earlier about "breathing synchronization." In the center of the crowd, Natasha's husband was clumsily helping her remove the veil hanging from her earrings, his movements as gentle as if he were touching some rare treasure.
A note from the author:
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