Unbearable - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: That Gripping Feeling Wouldn’t Go Away

 

“My perfect plan got ruined by a delayed flight.”

 

As soon as Cheng Miao exited the airport, dragging her suitcases behind her, she started fake-crying to Yu Wei, “I was going to buy a hundred little fish plushies and hand them out at the booth—now it’s all gone, completely gone!”

 

She was wrapped in a thick scarf, wearing a fluffy bunny-eared hat that covered her ears, fake-crying with a dramatic “waah waah.”

 

Many of the passengers disembarking this flight were clearly here for the same competition. Their bags and luggage were covered in various pins and keychains. Hearing Cheng Miao’s words, several turned to look at her with expressions of shared shock and regret.

 

Yu Wei pulled away from Cheng Miao’s exaggerated hug, tugged her crooked hat back down to cover her ears, then pulled the scarf up over her nose. With an awkward, helpless tone, she asked in a low voice, “Where are the friends who came with you?”

 

Cheng Miao wasn’t traveling alone. They had organized this trip in multiple fan groups—people from the same city coordinated to book the same flights, and even those from different cities cross-checked schedules.

 

Being extremely extroverted, she had even messaged Yu Wei from the plane saying she had “befriended two more fans of ‘Fishie’” and started handing out banners mid-flight, having packed extras in her backpack.

 

“They scattered,” Cheng Miao replied, pushing her large suitcase as she walked next to Yu Wei. “We’re like a fire when we’re together, and stars when we’re apart! Everyone is me, and I am everyone! We’re spreading the hype! You know what kind of days we’ve been through these past two years?”

 

Yu Wei didn’t know, but she could imagine.

 

The image of multiple Cheng Miaos spreading chaos was truly terrifying.

 

Thankfully, this particular Cheng Miao was fairly restrained. They took a cab to the hotel Cheng Miao had booked, dropped off their luggage, ate some spicy hot pot downstairs, and then returned to the room where Cheng Miao pulled out four large tote bags, filled with plush toys, banners, badges, cards, and all sorts of merchandise from her suitcase.

 

Each of them carried two huge bags and set off directly from the hotel to the competition venue.

 

The competition started at 2:00 PM. It was just after noon, and already a long line had formed outside. The square was filled with groups of spectators waiting to enter.

 

Cheng Miao posted in multiple chat groups, sharing her location, snapping photos of the bags in her hands and nearby landmarks.

 

Yu Wei watched her take pictures and tap away at her phone screen. In less than two minutes, someone came over and asked uncertainly, “Fish Boss V587? I’m ‘Little Fish Swim Fast’…”

 

Even though she’d seen similar scenes yesterday, witnessing it up close again still shocked Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei used her real name online. The fans of Yu Wei’s “Fishie” used aliases on social media.

 

Once one or two people arrived, a small crowd formed around Cheng Miao. They confirmed each other’s identities by usernames, and fans from different platforms and chat groups started networking and chatting. Mini merchandise was exchanged frantically. The banners Cheng Miao brought were traded for other fan-made ones.

 

“You also commissioned artwork from that artist?”

 

“Me too, me too!”

 

“I suspect that artist is a Fishie fan herself. She never used to draw portraits—only draws Fishie now.”

 

The artist they were talking about—Yu Wei herself—stood nearby with her face buried in her scarf.

 

After being asked twice, “Which sister are you from?” Yu Wei felt overwhelmed, like ants were crawling all over her. She really didn’t want to socialize under her alias. Just imagining it made her toes curl and want to dig a hole to bury the stadium in.

 

Just then, her phone buzzed. She handed her bags to Cheng Miao and quickly slipped out of the crowd to take the call.

 

“Where are you? We’re about to head to the arena,” said Ding Qing, her voice slightly fatigued.

 

“I’m already here,” Yu Wei replied apologetically. “I’ll wait for you at the entrance.”

 

After hanging up, Yu Wei edged even further out of the crowd.

 

Soon, Cheng Miao also emerged from the group, her tote bags just as full—she had handed out a bunch of merch and received just as much back in exchange.

 

Standing beside Yu Wei, she opened her palm and revealed two acrylic rings—four-petal flower-shaped rings about the size of a fingertip, with Yu Wei’s Fishie’s face printed in the middle.

 

So abstract.

 

Yu Wei stared wide-eyed at the face on the ring, shocked speechless as her eyeballs trembled.

 

“Put it on!” Cheng Miao laughed gleefully, grabbing Yu Wei’s hand and slipping the ring onto her index finger—then gave it a spin.

 

It spun.

 

That proud, expressionless face of Yu Wei’s Fishie spun in circles on her finger.

 

Yu Wei went from stunned to speechless, then struggled to stifle her laughter, her shoulders shaking with the effort.

 

It was so hard to hold back!

 

That was Yu Wei’s Fishie!

 

“Hahahahahaha, fun, right?!” Cheng Miao wore one too. She couldn’t spin it with one hand, so she blew on it to make it spin.

 

“Is your aunt here yet? There’s so many people—we should go find her somewhere obvious.” Cheng Miao had only met Ding Qing a few times but used to hold a bit of resentment toward her best friend’s mom. Her opinion had changed now. “Your mom’s so much cooler than mine—letting you skip school to come watch the competition? Genius!”

 

Yu Wei squinted and gave a small hum of agreement.

 

“She finally came around,” Cheng Miao lowered her voice, gossiping. “Hey, what’s the deal between Fishie and your family? I heard athlete guest passes aren’t easy to get.”

 

Most figure skaters were young, so their parents usually accompanied them to competitions and were given “staff” passes. These didn’t come with pay or stipends—just convenient IDs for being with the team. Fishie’s mom had always gone with her before.

 

Without some kind of connection, those passes were hard to get.

 

But Yu Wei’s Fishie… both her parents had passed away. A special case.

 

“She’s…” Yu Wei bit her lower lip, pausing, “a special case. We’re family.”

 

If she really said it out loud, Cheng Miao might not even be able to focus on the competition.

 

Besides, how Fishie and Yu Wei’s family relationship was officially made public wasn’t her call. There’d be another chance.

 

“Whoa!” Cheng Miao was shocked.

 

Yu Wei looked at her, nervous.

 

Cheng Miao furrowed her brows, dead serious. “So are you and Fishie the same generation? Like… what’s your family ranking?”

 

Yu Wei: “…Everyone just does their own thing.”

 

Don’t ask. Really. It’s too complicated.

 

The scattered crowd of spectators began organizing into proper lines for entry. Cheng Miao also went to queue up, handing one of the three tote bags to Yu Wei. “Once Fishie finishes performing, throw these onto the rink—hard! You’re close, you’ve got the advantage.”

 

Yu Wei, already overwhelmed by her first time attending such a major event, hesitated for a moment, then accepted the bag with a soft “okay.”

 

She was already here, after all.

 

The crowd suddenly grew noisy. Cheng Miao turned to look, eyes lighting up, bouncing as she yelled, “Fishie! Fishie! Go Fishie!”

 

The sound echoed in Yu Wei’s head like a bomb.

 

She turned toward the commotion. Through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of Fishie’s side profile—just a brief glance before she turned away.

 

It felt like Fishie had looked over briefly, then turned back. She said something softly to Ding Qing, then looked again, nodding slightly.

 

“Auntie’s here too. You’d better go now. Lots of people today—don’t forget to wear your glasses and don’t take them off.” Cheng Miao urged her. “I’m going to queue up.”

 

Whatever Fishie had said to Ding Qing, she now paused her steps and also looked toward Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei hurried forward, but before she reached them, Fishie had already stepped through the crowd and walked off by herself—steady, determined, not hesitating even once.

 

Yu Wei paused, feeling a bit disappointed she hadn’t managed to cheer her on in time.

 

“Fishie said we should just go to the spectator area, no need to stay by the rink,” Ding Qing said, glancing at the bag in Yu Wei’s hand. “What’s that?”

 

“Plushies. After the performance, fans throw them onto the rink—it’s tradition in figure skating.” Yu Wei composed herself.

 

Ding Qing gave a noncommittal “oh” and glanced again.

 

The two walked through the crowd shoulder-to-shoulder, holding their credentials instead of wearing them around their necks.

 

There were twelve skaters in the women’s singles, divided into two groups by ranking. Fishie hadn’t competed in two years, so her points were low. She was in the first group.

 

The athletes’ spectator area was mostly other skaters without matches that day, plus accompanying family or staff. No assigned seating—people sat where they liked.

 

Yu Wei and Ding Qing sat together near the aisle.

 

As the first six skaters entered, the announcer introduced them in both Chinese and English, listing names and previous achievements. A tracking camera filmed each one, and the footage was projected onto the central screen.

 

When they got to Fishie, she was just landing a jump—perfectly.

 

The crowd erupted with cheers, overwhelming the announcer’s voice.

 

“…After a two-year absence, let’s look forward to her performance today!”

 

Yu Wei suddenly felt nervous.

 

Her solar plexus tightened with her heartbeat. Bl00d surged to her limbs in icy waves, numbing her fingers. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, loud and chaotic.

 

The warm-up ended quickly, and the six skaters exited. The short program was about to begin.

 

The venue was buzzing. Every move on the ice drew cheers. When a skater finished, the crowd tossed plushies onto the rink.

 

Amid the excitement and tension, Yu Wei couldn’t focus.

 

The bag of plushies sat between her and Ding Qing, brushing her leg.

 

She leaned forward, hands twisting on her knees, fingers nervously digging into her own skin.

 

The scoreboard on the big screen flashed. Yu Wei couldn’t tell if the score was high or low.

 

Ding Qing asked in a low voice, “Fishie vs. her…?”

 

“Way better,” Yu Wei immediately replied.

 

She didn’t know why that weird urge to compare came out, and she regretted it the moment it did. What if it jinxed her? Ptui ptui ptui—

 

By the time she was done mentally spitting, the second skater had already taken the ice.

 

The crowd behind them was massive, but Yu Wei didn’t care—she was entirely focused on the rink, even if she didn’t recognize the skaters or understand the scoring.

 

Good performances made her tense. Falls made her tense.

 

Finally, the fifth skater went up. Then Fishie emerged from the tunnel.

 

Her icy blue costume clung to her form, skirt fluttering over her flesh-toned tights. Shoulder-length hair loose, just barely revealing white earphones. She stared straight at the rink, face blank.

 

Yu Wei’s pounding heart slowly calmed.

 

She took a deep breath.

 

She started imagining ridiculous superstitions—that if she had enough faith, if the crowd believed hard enough, a mysterious force would lift Fishie to success.

 

Then the music began. Fishie took her spot on the ice, and superstition disappeared.

 

Her blades hissed as they struck the ice in time with the music. She launched into the air, skirt flaring—

 

Yu Wei held her breath.

 

Fishie landed—but her foot slipped, ankle almost twisting, body almost falling.

 

She didn’t fall—but it wasn’t clean.

 

“Ah—”

 

The crowd’s collective gasp stabbed Yu Wei in the ear as she shot to her feet.

 

Fingers clenched, nails digging into her palm, she forced herself back into her seat, emotions roiling.

 

The rest of the performance was flawless. The final pose had her kneeling on the ice, fists to her chest.

 

The crowd roared.

 

Plushies rained down.

 

Yu Wei stood, tossing hers with the crowd. Her hand brushed Ding Qing’s—they both kept going.

 

Fishie bowed to the audience, exited the rink, and headed to the Kiss & Cry zone.

 

The camera zoomed in on her sweat-soaked face. She looked pale, lips licked dry, hair wet and pushed back.

 

The score took forever to come out.

 

When it did, her expression was still on screen.

 

Yu Wei’s eyes blurred. She turned away, pulling off her glasses to wipe them quickly—then someone behind her cursed: “What the f***, ISU!”

 

Fishie’s only flaw was the one unstable landing—yet her technical and artistic scores were two points lower than the girl who fell twice.

 

The announcer read the score, the commentator trying to spin the narrative, glossing over her jump technique and skating, harping endlessly on the flawed 3A landing.

 

Fishie changed out of her skates, stood up, and left as the announcer continued.

 

The first half was over. The ice resurfacer came out.

 

Yu Wei wanted to go find her.

 

“Is there more?” Ding Qing asked calmly. She clearly didn’t care for the competition.

 

Though her eyes were moist, her tone was sharp and level.

 

For some reason, that heavy, breathless weight on Yu Wei’s chest tightened again.

 

Like a fish out of water, caught in someone’s grip.

 

“Yes,” Yu Wei replied. “Another group. But she’s done.”

 

“I know,” said Ding Qing. “That was her only match today.”

 

Yu Wei hesitated. “What did you think? Of her performance?”

 

“It was good. Emotion matched the music,” Ding Qing sighed. “If she enjoys it, she can skate for another two years.”

 

Like it wasn’t a big deal. She cared—but not that much. Everything was expected.

 

Yu Wei didn’t understand. Ding Qing used to break down over her injuries and diet.

 

Now, even after that performance and unfair scoring—she was fine?

 

For the first time, Yu Wei felt uncomfortable in front of Ding Qing.

 

That tight feeling wouldn’t go away.

 

“I’m going to check on her,” she said, picking up the now-empty bag and walking away.

 

She rushed down the stairs, then suddenly stopped.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

A voice asked from a step below—dark gray skirt brushing her shoes, a glimpse of blue showing under a black down jacket. Fishie stood there, looking up at her.