Chapter 11

On the ice, Mù Yú had already collected enough material for that "attention and positive correlation table with no movement." He propped himself up on the ice with one hand and offered his right hand to Yàn Sǔn. Without using his cane, he confidently waited for the little snowball to pull him up.

Yàn Sǔn was nervous yet solemn. He jumped down from Mù Yú's arms, gripped the offered hand firmly with both his own, and pulled backward with all his might.

From the System's perspective, it could clearly see Mù Yú subtly assisting without showing it. In an environment where every step could lead to a slip, one could truly gauge one's control over their body and balance. Even on the ice, Mù Yú managed his movements so flawlessly, as if he were genuinely being pulled up bit by bit.

...In reality, it was entirely Mù Yú's strength that steadied Yàn Sǔn's balance, preventing the little villain from falling flat on his backside due to excessive nervousness and haste.

The five-year-old little villain couldn't yet detect such subtle secrets. His small face was taut with seriousness, his jaw clenched, and he remained focused until Mù Yú was completely steady. Only then did he release his grip and exhale.

"Amazing." Mù Yú placed his hands on his knees, bent down, and thanked him sincerely, "Thank you."

Yàn Sǔn knew how to say "thank you" and "amazing," and he understood them to some extent, but he hadn't yet grasped the concept of "you're welcome."

The little villain lowered his head, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. His face flushed as he hesitated for a long time before softly letting out an "Ah."

Yàn Sǔn was bundled up by Mù Yú in a small white hat, white gloves, and a white down jacket. His ice skates were also white. Because the rink was cold, warm steam rose from his head.

He looked like a snow dumpling that was almost cooked.

The nearly cooked snow dumpling had quick eyes. Even as he was about to bury his face in his collar, he immediately pounced when he saw Mù Yú's hand reach out, grabbing a preferred finger and holding it tightly.

The System was fortunate enough to witness the little villain choosing his favorite finger. At that time, Mù Yú was filling out the application form to take Yàn Sǔn away and wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings.

In the warm, cozy room, the System was playing with yarn. Yàn Sǔn was holding a thermos, trying to stay warm, and staring intently at the hand Mù Yú was using to hold his pen, deep in thought.

#Emotion Detector Alert: The villain, only five years old, is facing one of the most serious challenges of his life.#

Mù Yú felt his finger being held, lowered his head, and smiled, ruffling the little one's hair. He then looked up to admire the smooth ice of the rink. Yàn Sǔn, revived on the spot, held onto that hand, reluctant to let go, and hopped around Mù Yú, skillfully drawing small butterflies with his skates.

"Yu Mu's final script," Mù Yú said to the System in his mind, "there are other issues."

The System, almost distracted by the little villain's antics, quickly picked up its notebook. "What issues?"

Mù Yú's arm was about to be twisted into a pretzel by the little snowball engrossed in circling around him. He subtly tapped the ice with his blade and spun around, saving his radius and ulna.

He had already observed all the junior team members on this ice rink. Since the variety show was being filmed in Snow Valley, the cooperating party invited was naturally the junior team of the Berghead Club, who were training here.

On Mù Yú's last visit to this world as the manager of the Berghead Club, the club held an almost unshakeable, absolute hegemony in the artistic disciplines of ice and snow sports. With top-tier strength and a constant stream of prodigies, their monopoly on elite talent at a generational level made them universally recognized as the sole pinnacle of ice and snow sports.

This was why Father Yan was so hesitant to give up his coaching position here. He was just one step away from reaching A-class. All he needed was to train two or three more batches of shining stars for the ice arena and harvest two or three more sets of gold medals.

The System pondered for a moment and vaguely grasped the implication. "Host, those team members are his stepping stones for leveling up."

Mù Yú noticed the little snowball wanted to fly. He lifted him up, and the child, held by the arm, spun gracefully on the ice.

The landing with his skates was incredibly stable.

Yàn Sǔn didn't understand what any of this meant. He felt secure playing beside Mù Yú and continued to hop excitedly, unaware of the surprised glances cast from hidden vantage points nearby.

"It's putting the cart before the horse," Mù Yú said, catching the little snowball who had jumped onto him. "Yàn Xī alone couldn't possibly ruin so many people."

Yú Mù was completely clueless about the club's procedural management, which was why he could concoct a story about "Yàn Sǔn secretly altering training plans, causing serious cognitive damage to multiple prodigious young team members."

In reality, not only was Yàn Sǔn incapable of such a feat, but Yàn Xī couldn't have done it either.

Yàn Xī might have entertained the thought – his mind was twisted, and his ability to handle pressure was extremely poor. Seeing the teammates he had once suppressed now surpassing him one after another, he must have harbored sleepless nights of resentment.

But on the ice, the day Yàn Xī chose to give up and slammed his skates onto the ice, he became an outsider.

The last manager of the Berghead Club, despite being ill, had established rigorous training protocols. No outsider could bypass the professional coaches hired by the Berghead Club to harm so many innocent prodigies.

Mù Yú said, "Unless."

The System, holding the Berghead manager's seal, watched the young team members training hard on the ice and remained silent.

It now understood the Host's implication.

—Unless, that professional coach himself had a problem.

Unless, for this coach, the team members' future, their development, their physical and mental health were unimportant. What mattered was winning gold medals and achieving results.

The gold medals were the coach's gold medals; the results were the coach's results.

As for who would win them, and what would happen afterward, it was all irrelevant.

Those who only wish to climb the ladder wouldn't care if the steps were made of stone or wood, or when they would break.

Gāo Yìmín lost his footing during another landing, twisting his ankle. With a thud, he fell to the ground.

He saw two figures approaching and remembered he still had work to do for the filming. He quickly tried to get up, but his ankle was held by a cool touch. A slightly worn metal cane was placed against the side of his skate, applying gentle pressure, pushing his right ankle, which had been contorted by the fall, back into its natural position.

Gāo Yìmín frowned, quickly pushed himself up from the ice, and looked at the person in front of him.

"Your retainer clip is open," the other person said. "Tie your shoelaces twice; they won't come loose easily."

The person leading a small child, dressed in a simple casual jacket, was thin and refined. He leaned on a metal cane with one hand, speaking in a calm and gentle tone.

Gāo Yìmín looked down and saw that his ice skate laces had indeed come undone at some point, and the tongue was slightly askew. No wonder he had suddenly lost his footing during the jump.

A camera crew followed the person, presumably to continue filming, but they didn't urge him. They simply watched the young athlete skate to the corner and bend down to quickly tie his laces.

After Gāo Yìmín fixed his skates, he heard the other person ask again, "What did Coach Yan say?"

Gāo Yìmín opened his mouth instinctively but immediately swallowed his words. He lowered his head, tied his laces securely with an extra loop, and stood up in silence.

...Coach Yan had said that a screenwriter named "Yú Mù" would come during the variety show filming to be Yàn Sǔn's teacher. This screenwriter Yú would try to curry favor with the young team members, showing them excessive concern in front of the cameras. Yú Mù would pretend to be kind and considerate, telling them to rest and intervening on their behalf, claiming their training intensity was too high. But in reality, the person was just a third-rate screenwriter who didn't understand anything, merely seeking fame and reputation on the show. If they really listened to Yú Mù's advice, it would disrupt their training schedule.

This information was to be kept confidential. No one dared to speak of it. Everyone within the team heard it and understood—whoever was assigned to handle Yú Mù's group was out of luck. This strategy might work on outsiders, but for them, who trained day and night and would be eliminated with the slightest relaxation, it was nothing but absurdity and mockery.

—If you rest, won't others rest too? If training isn't intense, will you just watch others practice difficult moves and get crushed in competitions?

Anyone with such thoughts wouldn't even make it into this club. Even if they got in due to talent, they would be eliminated in the early rounds.

Gāo Yìmín came from the poorest family among the figure skating team. He had long guessed that this task would likely fall to him. Gāo Yìmín harbored no resentment. After all, getting into the club felt like a pipe dream to him. As his mother would say, "Surely a puff of green smoke rose from some ancestral grave."

Gāo Yìmín felt the same way. He just wanted to train diligently, compete diligently, achieve a good ranking, and help his family live a better life than they did now. He also wanted to afford ballet lessons for his sister, something she had always wanted.

As for the time wasted with Yú Mù, he could make up for it with extra practice. Anyway, he had to do extra practice even when skating with Yàn Xī.

He didn't answer the previous question, and the "screenwriter Yú" didn't seem to press for an answer either. He simply leaned by the rink, watching the training of other junior team members.

Gāo Yìmín calculated the number of his jumps, made a note, and skated over to Yú Mù.

The little child next to Yú Mù was playing by himself, enveloped in mist, jumping high and gracefully, landing with incredible stability. He didn't know how this screenwriter Yú managed it, but once the little child started to falter, before he could fall, a hand would steady him, guiding him back into position.

"You were practicing just now," Mù Yú said. "Fifty 3Fs, attempting a 3A."

...He even knew about the 3F and 3A.

Gāo Yìmín looked up and glanced at the other person. It wasn't that they looked down on Yú Mù; it was just that, as Coach Yan had said, the "screenwriter Yú" was a complete outsider. Even if he crammed last minute and learned a few professional terms, being able to distinguish between them just by watching the movements was already quite impressive for an amateur.

Gāo Yìmín didn't know how to respond. He just hummed and couldn't help but look at the other team members.

The 3A, the Axel jump, the thorny crown of the ice rink. Several skaters in the junior group could already perform a 3A, though their success rate was not high. However, within the training team, it undeniably created an unspoken pressure.

Gāo Yìmín unconsciously clenched the railing. When he came to his senses, he happened to hear Yú Mù's voice: "...I watched your jump."

Here it comes. The nice words from an outsider.

Gāo Yìmín took a deep breath, suppressing his anxiety, and prepared to just listen to the pleasantries as Coach Yan had instructed.

Mù Yú said, "It was a very poor jump."

Gāo Yìmín: "..."

"My shoelaces came undone," Gāo Yìmín retorted in a low voice. "I don't usually fall like that. I was only half a rotation away from completing it."

Disliking Yú Mù's interference was one thing, but being spoken to like that by an amateur was another.

He acted as a sparring partner for Yàn Xī, hiding his own jumps, afraid to reveal them. But if he truly went all out, he was among the best in the junior group.

An athlete's competitive spirit is instinctual. Gāo Yìmín was used to being suppressed by Yàn Xī and could endure anything. But to be spoken to like this right at the start still stirred some defiance.

Mù Yú bent down, stopping the little snowball who had gotten carried away with jumping and didn't know when to stop. He wiped the child's sweat and produced a small thermos filled with pre-made milk candies.

Mù Yú unscrewed the lid, tested the temperature, and said, "You'll sprain your ankle."

Gāo Yìmín's reply was natural: "It's fine even if I sprain my ankle."

The Greenhouse could simulate injuries, but those were not real injuries or illnesses. They only caused pain and didn't prevent the body from continuing to perform corresponding movements. You could sprain your ankle a hundred times; as long as you could endure it without crying out in pain, the quality of the movement would remain the same. The skaters under Coach Yan trained like this. When the pain was severe, they would request painkillers, injected directly into the cultivation pod, which would take effect within minutes.

Mù Yú knelt on the ice, using one hand to steady the thermos so the little snowball could drink his water slowly and calmly. He flicked his right hand, unfolding his collapsible cane.

Before Gāo Yìmín could react, the end of the cane tapped the side of his inner ankle. With the same gentle pressure as before, Gāo Yìmín's ankle suddenly twisted, nearly parallel to the ice. He lost his balance without warning.

Startled, he fumbled to adjust his center of gravity but failed. With a loud thud, he sat heavily on the ground.

"You fall when your shoelaces come undone, which means you rely on the support and restriction of your skates."

Mù Yú said, "Relying on the skates for leverage implies your feet lack strength."

Gāo Yìmín, stunned by the fall, sat on the ice, staring blankly.

Mù Yú waited for Yàn Sǔn to finish drinking, then tightened the lid and tied a two-finger wide rainbow-colored strap around the small thermos, hanging it around the little snowball's neck.

"Your ankle is weak, your heel floats, and your arch is not sufficiently curved."

Mù Yú pushed himself up with his cane. "You can't even stand steadily on your skates, so what are you controlling?"

His tone was normal, his voice mild and gentle, showing no trace of blame or questioning, unlike the imposing professional coaches Gāo Yìmín had encountered at the club. Yet, the problems he pointed out were incisive.

Gāo Yìmín couldn't answer, or perhaps he hadn't even recovered enough to process the question, his mind still replaying what Coach Yan had said about that "screenwriter who came to seek fame."

What screenwriter... a screenwriter for ice ballet? He was dazed for a while before remembering he was still sitting on the ice. He scrambled up using his hands and feet, and his ankle was tapped again by the cane.

Years of training had ingrained many automatic responses. Gāo Yìmín's ankle instinctively tucked inward with the force. When he stepped securely onto the blade, he noticed the sensation was subtly different from usual.

Father Yan's coaching style was clearly results-oriented, focusing on jumps and difficulty. Choreography primarily served these two aspects, while everything else was relatively crude. As for the jumps, as long as the executed movements met the standard, it didn't matter how they were performed.

This was the first time someone had corrected Gāo Yìmín's minor flaws. He remembered what Coach Yan had said—this person shouldn't be trusted, yet he couldn't help but feel... practicing according to his guidance wouldn't hurt.

Mù Yú didn't say any more to him, taking the little snowball to ride the ice slide.

This activity didn't allow for ice skates. Mù Yú sat side-by-side with Yàn Sǔn by the edge of the rink. They raced to take off their skates and put on their shoes, with the System acting as the official.

In the end, Mù Yú narrowly won by the time it took to put on one shoe.

When the whistle blew, the little one was still holding one snow boot, his head covered in sweat from anxiety. Mù Yú scooped him into his arms and ruffled his hair. The child tilted his head up, "Ah!"

The System, guessing with half its mind, helped translate: "Host, he might be saying your shoes don't have laces."

Mù Yú's shoes didn't require laces. Yàn Sǔn's snow boots were of the lace-up variety, which took considerably more effort to put on, making the race undeniably biased.

The little villain earnestly tied his laces, creating a tangled knot, and still lost regrettably. Thus, he unhappily lodged a protest.

Mù Yú laughed and lovingly ruffled the little one's hair to his heart's content. He bent down and patiently untangled the messy laces.

Mù Yú held the little snowball's hand and taught him how to tie a double bow with the laces, carefully re-tying each one.

The System, holding the whistle in its mouth, watched the Host and the little villain tying their shoelaces for a while. Then, it broadened its view and looked at Gāo Yìmín.

"Host," the System said, thinking Mù Yú was going for a relatable, heartwarming approach, which, according to statistics, garnered the best public opinion in variety shows, "Gāo Yìmín doesn't seem to have found his rhythm yet."

Mù Yú said, "No rush."

This was the Berghead Club. The junior figure skating team training here consisted of the most talented young skaters in the sport. While their personalities might differ, without exception, they all possessed a hidden pride.

Under Father Yan, these children had become fleeting fireworks on ice. To be brilliant, to be seen, they had to embrace the resolve to burn themselves out.

Since he intended to secure the qualification to bond with Yàn Sǔn, Mù Yú wouldn't do nothing. However, gentle persuasion and nurturing rain here would be meaningless.

Mù Yú held Yàn Sǔn's hand and led the little one to the ice slide. As they reached the highest point, a figure blocked their path.

Father Yan stared at him, his expression still tinged with apprehension, yet revealing an uncontainable malice.

...Father Yan was finally beginning to sense something was wrong.

He looked at the "Yú Mù" before him, unable to fathom where this person's figure skating knowledge came from, nor how Yàn Sǔn's jumps could be so outstanding.

As a coach at Berghead himself, Father Yan had not participated in this segment, observing from the filming area. He already regretted letting the other person take Yàn Sǔn away so easily to join the show.

But with the show live-streamed and under constant global attention, it was too late to change his mind.

"Mr. Yú," Father Yan said in a low voice, "What are you doing?" he pressed. "What are you going to do with Yàn Sǔn?"

Mù Yú, leading the little snowball, showed him their number tag: "Ice slide."

Father Yan: "..."

What a damn ice slide.

Father Yan gritted his teeth and raised his hand, pushing away Yàn Sǔn, who had somehow grown bold enough to interfere. He wanted to ask Yú Mù just how far he intended to go.

If he had known Yàn Sǔn had such talent, Father Yan would have coached him himself, even if it meant turning him into a silent figure skating robot, as long as he could compete and win awards.

But now that things had escalated, even if Father Yan wanted to keep Yàn Sǔn, Yú Mù undeniably wouldn't agree. And with the trump card Yú Mù held, Father Yan wouldn't dare to provoke him, even with ten times the courage.

...Furthermore, there was another more critical matter that required urgent attention.

Father Yan had to find a reasonable explanation for his coaching methods.

While Yú Mù seemed to say nothing, he had said everything. The casual taps of that cane had all hit Father Yan's hidden vulnerabilities.

...This was just the beginning.

He didn't know how much Yú Mù understood, nor how many new tricks Yú Mù intended to pull. Some things were not secrets among peers and within the professional field, but exposing them so bluntly would still ruin his reputation.

Father Yan glanced at the approaching camera crew, took a deep breath, and said, "...I hope you won't rashly coach my team members."

"I understand them best. I have detailed data on each of them, their physical strengths and weaknesses, their psychological states," Father Yan said. "Mr. Yú, you might understand a bit about figure skating, but you are not their coach."

Before he could finish his prepared speech, he saw Yàn Sǔn running out again, causing trouble. Father Yan frowned irritably and reached out to push the child away, trying to keep him out of the camera's view.

Mù Yú's cane was steadier. He blocked Father Yan's arm, nudged it, and guided the little one back to his side.

"..." Father Yan's elbow went numb, and he almost lost his composure. He gritted his teeth.

He stood up straight. "Gāo Yìmín joined the club too late. He trained himself for too long, and his movements are already formed."

"Forcing him to correct ingrained habits will only make him unable to perform his movements properly, losing even what he was originally good at," Father Yan continued in one breath. "You will only ruin him this way, Mr. Yú---"

His speech was interrupted by a sudden gasp from the ice rink behind him.

Father Yan instinctively turned around, his expression changing drastically.

Gāo Yìmín was attempting a 3A in the corner. He hadn't wanted to believe Mù Yú's words, but once he heard them, it was not so easy to forget them—especially since his body's feedback was more real and direct, almost instantaneous.

Given his talent, at this level of young athlete, even if consciously he didn't know which was the right way, instinct would drive him to choose the most suitable one.

Tapped on the ankle by that slightly worn alloy cane, his new point of force and ankle posture were gently pushed into place. Unknowingly, he had adjusted his movement mechanics. He fell again with the new technique, and again... he fell thirteen times.

On the fourteenth attempt, after jumping, he accidentally hit the correct axis. Before he could react, his body had rotated three and a half times.

His skates slammed onto the ice, sending ice fragments flying. Under the bright lights, silence descended.

Under the System's cover, the little villain, who had been fiercely scanning the area three times, finally found an opportunity. Protecting Mù Yú, he stomped heavily on Father Yan's toe.

Gāo Yìmín stumbled to his knees on the ice, his gaze filled with shock and envy. He panted breathlessly, holding his skate, which was tightly tied with two loops of laces, and looked up at the top of the ice slide.

...He had jumped a 3A.