"Shaoqi!"
Coach Zhang's voice thundered across the hallway when he caught Shaoqi leaving the locker room. "Look what you've gotten yourself into now - a two week suspension!? Have you lost your mind?" He dragged Shaoqi into a empty locker room.
Han Shaoqi ran a hand through his damp hair, the faint echo of the arena still ringing in his ears. "It's just a two-week suspension," he muttered, his tone flat. He didn't want to meet his coach's eyes—he didn't need to see that mix of disappointment and anger again.
"Just a two-week suspension?" Coach Zhang slammed a hand against the locker door. The metal rattled sharply. "Do you even hear yourself? You're not a rookie anymore, Shaoqi. You can't keep acting like this!"
Silence.
Shaoqi stared at the floor, where droplets of melted ice glimmered faintly beneath his skates. He could still feel the rough shove, the heat of anger that had burned too quickly.
Coach Zhang sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "You've got talent, kid. Too much of it. But your temper—your temper's going to destroy everything you've built."
Shaoqi finally looked up, his jaw tight. "So what now? You're going to bench me forever?"
"No." Coach Zhang's tone softened, but only slightly. "You're going to learn something you clearly lack—control."
Shaoqi frowned. "Control?"
"I'm sending you away for the suspension period," Coach Zhang said firmly. "To an ice skating academy—Aurora Edge."
Shaoqi blinked. "An ice skating academy?"
"They're known for discipline and grace," Coach Zhang said. "Maybe you'll pick up something other than breaking sticks and starting fights."
"You're kidding," Shaoqi said flatly.
"I'm not."
Coach Zhang crossed his arms. "Their head instructor is an old friend. He's agreed to take you in for two weeks—observe, train, do whatever they tell you. You'll keep your head down, and maybe… you'll come back knowing how to stay calm for more than five minutes."
Shaoqi exhaled, a dry laugh slipping out. "So that's it. You're exiling me to figure skaters."
"Think of it as character development," Coach Zhang shot back. "You could use some."
The corner of Shaoqi's mouth twitched, but there was no humor in it. "Fine. Two weeks. I'll survive."
Coach Zhang watched him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I hope you do, Shaoqi. Because if you don't learn from this, no amount of skill will save you."
The words hung in the cold air like fog.
Shaoqi slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked toward the door. As he reached for the handle, he paused. "Coach."
Zhang looked up.
"Thanks," Shaoqi said quietly, though his tone was unreadable. Then he left—boots echoing down the corridor, disappearing into the sound of the rink machines humming in the distance.
Outside, the winter wind bit at his face. The sky was overcast, clouds low and heavy.
"Ice skating academy, huh…" he muttered under his breath, the faintest trace of a smirk forming on his lips.
"If they think they can tame me, they're welcome to try."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The weekend passed in quiet tension.
Han Shaoqi had never been one to sit still, but now that he'd been banned from the rink, he found himself pacing through his apartment like a caged wolf. The city outside was wrapped in pale snow, Yunhai's skyline fading behind misted windows.
Out of boredom—or maybe pride—he opened his laptop and typed in: Aurora Edge Academy.
The search results flooded his screen instantly. Sleek photos of a modern ice complex gleaming under soft winter light. Articles titled "Discipline and Art: Inside Aurora Edge" and "Where Grace Meets Perfection."
He scrolled further, and then he saw it.
A name that appeared in nearly every post. Li Yuchen.
Shaoqi clicked one of the videos.
Onscreen, a figure in white moved across the ice—fluid, precise, effortless. Every turn was balanced, every jump near-perfect. The audience's applause swelled with each movement. Even through the screen, the performance was magnetic.
Shaoqi leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly.
The comments were endless.
"Li Yuchen's performance was breathtaking again!"
"He's like snow come to life."
"No one can match his grace."
Grace. Beauty. Poise. They made it sound like this guy could walk on air.
Shaoqi clicked through another article, curiosity slowly edging into irritation. How had he never heard of this place before?
Aurora Edge wasn't just a figure skating academy—it had facilities for hockey, speed skating, even ice dancing. A world built entirely around the art and sport of ice itself.
He muttered to himself, "A prestigious academy in Yunhai… and I never even knew it existed."
He supposed it made sense. Back in high school, he'd been the kind of student teachers sighed about—talented, but reckless. His parents had long stopped trying to rein him in. After too many suspensions and too many fights, they'd simply sent him to a public school in Yunhai and hoped he'd find his own path.
He did. He found hockey. And for the first time, something made sense.
But now, watching the still frame of Li Yuchen's calm expression on the screen, something in him stirred.
"Graceful, handsome, disciplined…" he muttered. "Sounds boring."
And yet, he replayed the video one more time.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, thick and steady, muffling the world in silence.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Monday came quicker than Han Shaoqi expected.
The weekend had slipped away in a blur of videos, articles, and restless thoughts. Before he knew it, morning light was spilling through his curtains, pale and cold against the frost on his window.
It was time to leave for Aurora Edge.
He packed light—a few changes of clothes, his personal skates, and a half-empty thermos of coffee. Aurora Edge was only thirty minutes away from his apartment, tucked near the outskirts of Yunhai where the snow seemed to fall thicker and quieter.
A dorm wasn't necessary; he'd be there for just two weeks. Besides, he had no interest in living among strangers.
Coach Zhang arrived right on time, the familiar black sedan pulling up outside. Shaoqi locked his door behind him and climbed in.
The ride began in silence.
The hum of the engine filled the space between them. Outside, the city slowly faded into open roads lined with snow-covered pines.
Shaoqi rested his elbow against the window, his breath fogging the glass. He wanted to ask—why had he never heard of this place before? Why had no one mentioned it during his years of training? If it was such a prestigious academy, surely it should have been known among Yunhai's hockey circles.
But he didn't bother.
Whether he knew about it or not didn't matter now. He was being sent there as punishment, not invitation.
Coach Zhang cleared his throat suddenly, his voice gruff. "Aurora Edge has a strict reputation. Don't take that lightly. You're not walking into a locker room full of roughnecks like before. These people—" he hesitated, "—they move differently. They think differently."
Shaoqi gave a faint, humorless smile. "You mean they're not like me."
"I mean," Coach Zhang replied, "you could learn from them."
Shaoqi leaned back in his seat, gaze fixed on the snow outside. "We'll see."
The rest of the drive passed in wordless quiet.
When they finally pulled up to the front gates of Aurora Edge Academy, Shaoqi's first thought was that it looked nothing like a school.
The campus stretched wide—a blend of glass, steel, and snow-white architecture. Frosted trees lined the walkway, and the main building shimmered faintly under the pale morning sun.
Through the glass windows, he could see figures gliding gracefully across the ice, their movements sharp and fluid like a dance.
For a brief moment, Shaoqi forgot to breathe.
Then he scoffed softly. "So this is where I'm supposed to 'find discipline,' huh?"
Coach Zhang parked and turned to him. "Try not to get yourself kicked out in the first five minutes."
"No promises," Shaoqi said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
As he stepped out of the car, the cold air bit against his face. Somewhere inside, music drifted faintly across the rink—soft, slow, haunting.
And when Shaoqi looked through the window again, he saw him—
The same figure he'd seen on his laptop screen.
Li Yuchen.