I only started paying attention to figure skating after watching the anime Yuri on Ice. It's called a sport, but the expressive performance aspect feels like the crystallization of art. I honestly can't tell how difficult those jumps are—they spin so fast that I can't keep up at all, so I just watch for the spectacle.
A few years ago, I knew that Yuzuru Hanyu was very handsome and graceful, with outstanding sportsmanship. Later, many top Russian women's singles skaters emerged at a very young age, but their competition felt too intense and the turnover too fast, which made people worry about their physical and mental health. I also heard that after Hanyu retired, he got married and later divorced because excessive paparazzi attention interfered with his private life.
The competition among athletes is sometimes inspiring, and sometimes heartbreaking. As an ordinary viewer who simply wants to appreciate the sport, I naturally hope to see more refined performances—without sacrificing anyone's happiness or well-being. It's like buying a product: you wouldn't want it to be squeezed out of sweatshop labor. Most people would hope it was created with care, goodwill, and sincere dedication.
I hope to see athletes whose inner world aligns with their performance, rather than wondering how much money and resources a country invested to "manufacture" disposable stars. I hope these athletes are not consuming their bodies and youth just to make a living, but instead expressing their personal insights, resilience, and beautiful aspirations through their own unique styles—touching the world in the process.
Just when all the negative gossip was making me reluctant to keep following figure skating—Liu Meixian (also known as Alysa Liu) appeared. On the stage of the Olympic Games, she performed with a radiant smile and won the gold medal. It was deeply moving.
Her performance was not a product of overwhelming pressure, nor a fragile perfection bordering on mental strain. She was simply enjoying participation, enjoying performance, and enjoying sharing. In her confident eyes, there were no enemies or rivals, no judges or audiences, no calculations. Everyone was her friend, and everyone would fall in love with her performance. It was her confidence that carried the entire program and made it feel real.
Even though much of the public and media attention focused on her family's political background—and often compared her with Eileen Gu—she must have known about it. Yet she simply didn't treat it as something important.
She just stepped onto the ice to do what she loves. She did not overthink. She did not represent anyone. She loves herself, she loves her father, and she loves her life.
Regardless of her nationality, I believe any reasonable person would feel happy for her—whether they are her competitors or people from other countries. Because her achievement came from free will, fair competition, and honest effort.
I also hope her success can help change the culture of sports—and even international competitions in general. I hope people will place greater importance on the mental well-being of the person behind the performance, rather than on grand but intangible goals.
For those who truly love this sport, the athletes' happiness shines even brighter than their medals.
