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“If, as your coach says, figure skating is an artistic sport, then adding ballet elements will indeed be a good way to improve the viewing experience.” Giselle stepped lightly and made a playful gesture. “You don’t need to actually dance ballet on the ice, but you have to be elegant enough that people understand that you’re a danseur.”
Next to them, Zhang Sushang played The Nutcracker. This was a classic ballet created by Tchaikovsky in 1892, famous for its cute and childlike plot and its reputation as a Christmas ballet. Anyone who had ever seen ballet knew of The Nutcracker.
Its melody was very popular for choreographing dances.
After the song was over, Zhang Sushang said to Misha, “I think The Nutcracker is quite suitable for you, why don’t you use it for your short program?”
He had observed Misha’s skating before. This person was usually introverted but he became much more relaxed on the ice, which matched his lively performances well; it was as if there was a child within him who could only be released while on ice. In addition, his skating was very light, a good match with The Nutcracker.
“I’ll listen to you,” Misha said eagerly.
No one had yet to officially add ballet elements to figure skating, he would be the first!
He firmly believed that he could succeed.
Yes, his body had already been transformed and he had a stronger jumping ability. If he had the help of a good program, he could definitely stand on top of the podium.
In contrast, Zhang Sushang was much calmer. “What about the free skate? You have to have two programs. Do you want both to share a style, or do something different?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
He habitually looked to Zhang Sushang, hoping for his coach to make the decision, only to be coldly rejected. “You have to choose yourself, Misha,” he said.
Zhang Sushang couldn’t be Misha’s coach for the rest of his life, so Misha must have the ability to choose his own music. Also, Zhang Sushang knew through experience that skaters who chose their music showed both better expressiveness and understanding of the performance.
“How about this, you make a list of the music you want to skate to, then eliminate the ones that aren’t suitable for competition or for your skating, and leave whatever is left for me to see.”
Zhang Sushang clapped his hands, signalling for him to continue practising, then looked at Maxim who was taking notes next to him. “I’ll charge you a coaching fee if you keep doing that.”
“Charge it if you want, I’m not stopping you,” Maxim said cheerfully.
Zhang Sushang reached out a hand. “A hundred rubles.”
“When did you turn into a capitalist?” Maxim glared. “A hundred rubles? That’s daylight robbery! And your lessons for Misha aren’t that expensive!”
“Misha is Misha. He’s learning the basic skills of being a professional athlete, while you want to take away my coaching skills, which is basically teaching you how to do another job. What’s wrong with charging a little more?” he replied confidently.
He seemed to make sense.
Seeing that Maxim really began to consider handing over 100 rubles, Zhang Sushang changed his tone. “But if you buy two pairs of skates for me and Misha each, it’s not impossible for me to occasionally help you take care of Luka.”
Luka was both Maxim’s student and his nephew, they were equally happy to hear this. “Really?” they asked.
“Really.” The two of them had already come to his door to freeload lessons and he couldn’t kick them out, so he might as well get some benefits.
Thinking of this, Zhang Sushang felt a little sad. If this was a hundred years in the future, someone like him — who came from a prominent figure skating family, had an Olympic champion for a father, and had won a silver medal at Junior Worlds himself — could earn at least $1000 per lesson if he became a coach, but now his services could be bought with just two pairs of skates. It was indeed true that people were worth less once they left their hometown, he wasn’t as valuable as before.
“Also, our skates need to be sharpened regularly,” he added, “not mine though, Misha always complains that I sharpen them too much.”
“I’ll help him sharpen them until he’s satisfied,” Maxim agreed. Then he rubbed his hands together again. “You help take a look at Luka’s music when he’s choosing them.”
It was settled.
Zhang Sushang grabbed a muffin that Misha had baked and bit into it. Many ingredients were in short supply, making cakes lack the rich taste of later generations, but fortunately, Misha was willing to use enough butter to make his muffins soft and glutinous.
Orlov, who was passing by and felt a little greedy, kindly reminded him, “Every bite you eat means an extra half hour of dance practice.”
Stuffing the remaining half of the muffin into his mouth, Zhang Sushang mumbled, “One bite.”
This was the highest level of self-deception for people who wanted to lose weight.
When he got home, he put another pot of mutton bones on the boil. He skimmed off the foam, added a few drops of vinegar, coriander, and radish slices, then cut two pieces of rye bread.
Before he knew it, he had adapted to this way of eating Chinese soup with Western bread.
It began to rain outside. As soon as Alexei ran in the door, he smelled a strong aroma of meat. “It smells delicious,” he said with deep feeling.
Seeing him drenched in water, Zhang Sushang threw him a towel.
Alexei thanked him, then carefully took out a large envelope from within his coat. “The landlady asked me to give this to you just now.”
“What is it?” Zhang Sushang asked in befuddlement.
His movements paused when he saw the stamp on the envelope, which was a typical Chinese painting of bamboo in ink.
He carefully picked off the stamp and pressed it in a notebook before opening the letter inside. On it were lines of beautiful Russian handwriting even better than his own.
【Greetings, Mr. Chyushka. My name is Yun Yan, a Chinese reader of Divine Detective Ilya. I live in the Shanghai International Settlement and teach English, French, and Russian. The other day I saw your masterpiece in a newspaper and was deeply impressed by the ideas within, so I had the idea of translating your work into Chiense to let more people read it…】
This was someone who wanted the copyright to the Chinese version of Divine Detective Ilya, and he even sent an excerpt of his own translation. Upon reading it, Zhang Sushang only had one thought in mind: this guy’s writing was much better than his and his words were elegant and refined, to the point that his own Chinese version of Divine Detectvie Ilya might not be as good as this.
When he saw the price quoted at the end, then thought of the current situation at home, he thought that these people were quite willing to bleed.
Divine Detective Ilya was selling very well. Zhang Sushang had calculated his copyright fee before — he only took 10% of the total yet had so much money, the publishers must have made a fortune.
However, although he was ruthless when making money off foreigners, he was kinder towards his own people.
He spread out a sheet of letter paper and wrote a reply in Chinese.
【Yun Yan-xiansheng, hello. I am Chyushka. I’m very happy to have received your letter, and I’m willing to sell the Chinese copyright of Divine Detective Ilya to the Shanghai Evening News you mentioned. The fee doesn’t need to be as high as you offered, half of it is enough. The money also doesn’t need to be sent to me, instead please give it to my friend Zhou-xiansheng from XX Street.
Perhaps you might be surprised that I’m writing to you in Chinese. This is because Chyushka is Chinese — my real name is Zhang Sushang. I’m from the Northeast. I came to Russia last year to study medicine and only wrote Divine Detective Ilya to practice Russian and earn some money. I didn’t expect that it would be so beloved by domestic readers. Your translation is elegant and faithful to the original, much better than mine…】
“Is it from your family?” Alexei asked.
Zhang Sushang shook his head. “This is a letter from someone in China who wants to buy the translation rights for Divine Detective Ilya. He’s from Shanghai, my family is from the Northeast.”
“Will they mail the money to you later?” Alexei asked, blinking. He counted on his fingers: “You’re Chinese, you write books in Russia, the books are sold in China, and finally Chinese readers write a letter to Russia, hoping to translate your book…”
It went in such a big circle.
Zhang Sushang also felt the relationship was a bit circuitous, though he corrected him, “I don’t plan to get royalties from this, I asked them to send the money to someone else.”
“Who?”
“A school, education is the foundation of a country,” he answered casually.
He first got in touch with the international students who were in Moscow through Li Yuan. Zhou-xiansheng was a student who returned to China in May of this year.
Zhang Sushang didn’t have any great abilities himself, but he was full of respect for those who were studying for the sake of the country. If he could give them some help, this trip through time wouldn’t have been in vain.
Communication systems weren’t as developed as of now, so it wasn’t until a month later that Yun Yan received Zhang Sushang’s reply.
When the old man picked the letter up from the mail room near the school gate, he trotted happily all the way to the office, where he couldn’t help but shout, “Everyone! Mr. Chyushka sent a reply!”
Everyone in the office was both readers of Divine Detective Ilya and foreign language teachers. They all stood up in excitement. “He did? Quick, open it up and see what he says.”
Yun Yan cheerfully unfolded the letter and read it aloud.
As he read, their faces all began to look strange.
Author:
I made a mistake when copying and pasting before QAQ [covers face.jpg]
Not using any historical figures, my mom said her mother’s father did some underground work in Shanghai when he was young, his last name was Zhou, and I borrowed it for this article.
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