The lakeside facility was larger than it appeared from the road—low and modern, all glass and steel, built to blend into the quiet stretch of water beside it. Liu Qingge parked Cheng Luan with practiced precision in the reserved underground lot, the engine going silent the moment he cut the power.

Inside, security was tight but efficient. Facial recognition, a brief ID confirmation, a polite nod. When he gave Shen Yuan’s name at the reception desk, the attendant’s expression softened with recognition.

“Coach Shen is on Rink Two,” she said. “Second floor, east wing. You can take the stairs or the elevator—spectator access is open.”

Liu Qingge thanked her and chose the stairs.

The air changed as he moved deeper into the building—cooler, cleaner, carrying the faint, unmistakable scent of ice and metal. The corridor opened into the rink viewing area, glass panels separating the walkway from the ice itself.

Rink Two stretched wide and bright below, its surface freshly resurfaced, smooth as a mirror. Overhead lights reflected off the ice in clean white bands. Along the boards, a small group of students clustered near the gate, skates clacking softly as they shifted and laughed.

And there—at the center of it all—was Shen Yuan.

He was dressed for the ice: fitted black skating pants that moved like a second skin, a lightweight training jacket zipped halfway up, sleeves pushed to his forearms. His hair was pulled up neatly, tied back to keep it out of his face, exposing the line of his neck and the familiar curve of his jaw. Without his usual loose clothes, he looked sharper somehow—lean, balanced, all controlled motion.

Liu Qingge felt his steps slow.

Shen Yuan was smiling, bright and animated, gesturing as he spoke to his students. He corrected one student’s posture with a gentle tap to the shoulder, demonstrated a turn with effortless grace, then clapped once, sharp and cheerful.

Liu Qingge felt heat rise to his face before he could stop it.

Liu Qingge walked closer, boots echoing softly against the rubber flooring beside the boards. He slowed as he approached, unwilling to interrupt. From here, he could see the faint flush in Shen Yuan’s cheeks from the cold, the easy way he balanced even while standing still, blades resting flat without thought.

He still hadn’t noticed Liu Qingge.