Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

"Drip... drip... drip..."

The monotonous, cold, and emotionless electronic beats, like an electric drill, endlessly looped in the empty, abandoned factory.

The sound pierced the eardrums and drilled directly into the cerebral cortex, bringing a maddening sense of dread.

Gu Xidong stood at the edge of the ice rink, his face ashen.

He wasn't wearing ice skates; he was barefoot on the cold floor, staring intently at the small box connected to an old speaker in the center of the ice rink.

"Is this the music for today?" he asked, his voice barely containing the barely suppressed rage.

"This is your pacemaker." Ling Wuwen sat in the chair next to the stereo, holding a stopwatch in his hand. His gaze wasn't on him, but fixed on the ice. "Put on your skates and get on the ice. Follow the rhythm. Every step must be timed precisely at the 'tick'."

She wore a tight-fitting black training outfit today, which accentuated her lean and powerful figure.

"Are you training a dog? Or a robot?" Gu Xidong laughed angrily. "Figure skating is art! It's emotion! It's a resonance with music! It's not a fucking military parade!"

He couldn't accept it.

Throughout his career spanning over a decade, he listened to symphonies, operas, and melodies brimming with tension and emotional intensity. Every leap of a note, every pause of a rest, was part of his body language.

But now, Ling Wuwen is asking him to cater to a machine devoid of any emotions.

"Resonance?" Ling Wuwen finally raised his head, his eyes looking at him like he was looking at an ignorant child. "Gu Xidong, you overestimate yourself. You can't even be a proper 'human being' right now, yet you want to be an 'artist'?"

She stood up, walked to the edge of the ice rink, and tapped the ice with the tip of her skate.

"Your body has forgotten what rhythm is. It's like a lump of mud now, just swaying with inertia. I need to disassemble you into your most basic parts and reassemble you."

"Put your shoes on," she commanded. "Otherwise, we can do yesterday's sewage ditch training again."

2

Gu Xidong finally put on his ice skates.

The moment the ice skate touched the ice, the long-lost, sharp sensation excited every cell in his body.

He doesn't need that damn metronome.

He has his own rhythm.

He suddenly pushed off the ice, and his body shot out like an arrow.

"drop……"

The metronome started playing.

He deliberately delayed taking his second step by half a beat.

"drop……"

He deliberately rushed the beat, sliding out of the arc before the beat even started.

He was like a cheetah darting across the ice, venting his discontent in this rule-breaking way. He drew chaotic snake patterns on the ice, splashing up ice shards as if trying to completely drown out the monotonous "drip" sound.

He was demonstrating to Ling Wuwen: Look, I have my own soul, I don't need your machine to command me!

Ling Wuwen sat in the chair, motionless.

She simply stared coldly at the stopwatch, at the figure speeding madly across the ice.

Suddenly, she pressed a button on the speaker.

The metronome's sound instantly sped up the pace.

"Drip, drip, drip, drip..."

The original rhythm of one beat per second became two beats per second.

The originally relaxed rhythm instantly turned into a rapid death knell.

Gu Xidong's rhythm has gone out of control.

He was doing a crossover step when the sudden acceleration of the beat was like an invisible wall, causing him to stumble. His body instinctively tried to match the rhythm, but his mind went blank because of this sudden change.

He felt a wave of dizziness.

Anger, humiliation, and the absurd feeling of being manipulated by machines overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

He stopped abruptly, the ice skates making a long, piercing sound as they sliced ​​across the ice.

He turned around and looked fiercely at Ling Wuwen, who was sitting on the sidelines.

At this moment, he resembled a wild beast that had been thoroughly enraged.

He stopped trying to protest by sliding.

He wants to destroy that "source" directly.

With his head down and center of gravity low, he charged straight at Lin Lingwuwen, who was sitting in the chair, like a cannonball!

The wind whistled in my ears.

He could even picture the frail woman being sent flying by his impact.

3

Just as Gu Xidong was about to collide with Ling Wuwen—

The woman who had been sitting motionless in the chair moved.

She didn't scream in panic, nor did she clumsily try to run away.

She simply stood up from the chair with remarkable composure, even elegance.

Then, she took a small step back.

This step back was perfectly timed.

Gu Xidong rushed to the chair she had just been sitting in, the immense momentum making it impossible for him to stop.

Ling Wuwen had already retreated to the ice surface.

She wasn't even wearing ice skates, just a pair of regular sneakers.

But the moment her feet touched the ice, her entire demeanor changed.

She turned slightly to the side, her body as graceful as a boneless water snake.

Gu Xidong felt a blur before his eyes, and a strong force came from his arm.

He didn't even see how she made her move.

The next second, his immense, reckless force was effortlessly deflected and neutralized by her.

He staggered several meters away like a fool before barely managing to regain his balance.

He turned around in shock.

Ling Wuwen was standing on the ice, maintaining a perfectly standard "split" posture while gliding.

Her feet, clad in sneakers, traced smooth and graceful arcs on the ice.

Her back was straight, and her arms were outstretched, like an eagle with its wings folded but still looking proudly at the sky.

That was a kind of demeanor that Gu Xidong had only ever seen on the highest-level players in the national team.

It's not just about posture.

It's that kind of affinity that blends seamlessly with the ice surface, as if it's ingrained in your blood.

4

"You..." Gu Xidong was completely stunned.

He stared blankly at the woman standing on the ice, wearing ordinary sneakers but more like an athlete than any figure skater.

"Continue," Ling Wuwen said without explanation.

She merely glanced at him coldly, and then did something that made Gu Xidong even more bewildered.

She reached out her hand to him.

Give me your hand.

Gu Xidong instinctively refused: "I don't need you to guide me!"

"You've completely lost your rhythm." Ling Wuwen's voice was devoid of any emotion. "You're like a drunkard, completely disoriented. Either get out of there, or give me your hand. I'll guide you back to your senses."

Gu Xidong stared intently at her hand.

That hand had distinct knuckles, and thin calluses on the fingertips from years of training.

He recalled her uncanny fighting skills, her precise judgment of a 0.5-centimeter deviation in her center of gravity, and her perfect evasive footwork just now…

What else about this woman is there that he doesn't know?

Ultimately, humiliation and the desire for "rhythm" triumphed over everything.

He gritted his teeth and slammed his hand heavily into her palm.

Ling Wuwen's hands were cold, but his grip strength was astonishing.

"Keep up with my center of gravity."

She gave a low shout and pulled sharply.

Gu Xidong felt an irresistible force coming from her, and he was forced to slide along with her.

Ling Wuwen didn't perform any particularly difficult moves. She was simply leading him, gliding on the ice to the rhythm of the mechanical metronome.

But she skated so well.

Every movement she made was precisely timed to the beat of the metronome.

"drop……"

Her left skate touched the ice, and as she spun, she pulled Gu Xidong along with her.

"drop……"

She stepped out with her right foot, shifting her weight with a fluid motion, as smooth as flowing water.

She didn't need to look at the ice; her feet seemed to have their own navigation system. She led Gu Xidong across the ice, drawing perfect circles and perfect "8" shapes.

Gu Xidong was forced to follow behind her, like a beginner, awkwardly trying to keep up with her pace.

He watched her gliding past him.

That figure was no longer the cold, mad rehabilitation therapist he remembered.

That was the back view of a top-tier professional athlete, perhaps even comparable to his peak.

Every turn she makes, every swing of her arm, carries an elegance and power ingrained in her bones, a power that belongs to figure skating.

5

Time slipped away in this strange, slippery flow.

Gu Xidong's breathing, which was initially heavy with anger, gradually became steady.

His body, which had initially been stiff and resisting, gradually relaxed.

He stopped thinking and stopped resisting.

He simply followed her weight without thinking.

Turn left.

Turn right.

Press down.

cross.

She led him through all the basic steps again.

Gradually, the monotonous "beep...beep...beep..." sound became less jarring.

He began to hear the most primal rhythm hidden within that beat.

That's the rhythm of a heartbeat.

That's the rhythm of breathing.

That's... the rhythm of an ice skate cutting into the ice.

He watched her gliding figure in front of him, her black hair, damp with sweat and clinging to her neck, and the lines of her shoulder blades taut from exerting force.

He suddenly realized that he was actually... somewhat dependent on this feeling.

An unprecedented sense of security.

This sense of security was stronger than when he was with any coach in the national team.

I don't know how much time passed.

Ling Wuwen stopped.

She released Gu Xidong's hand.

"Now, do it yourself."

She stepped aside and leaned against the barrier, looking like a real coach.

Gu Xidong stood on the ice, somewhat bewildered.

Then he heard the metronome sound again.

"drop……"

He instinctively took a step.

"drop……"

He took another step.

This time, his steps were steady.

He followed the rhythm, gliding out step by step.

Although her movements were still clumsy, and her posture was not as elegant as before.

But he... got stuck.

He really hit that damn beat.

Like a baby just learning to walk, he took his first steps on the ice, clumsily but firmly.

He skated one lap, two laps...

He stopped as he glided past Ling Wuwen again.

He didn't look at her.

He simply lowered his head, looking at the new, faint yet incredibly clear ice mark his ice skate had carved.

Sweat dripped down his chin.

It dripped onto the ice.

He didn't speak.

But the tense hostility that permeated the air seemed to dissipate at that moment.

6

Ling Wuwen looked at him, but still didn't say anything.

She simply walked silently to the stereo and turned off the metronome.

The world fell silent instantly.

Only the heavy breathing of the two men echoed in the empty factory.

She took a tissue out of her pocket, walked up to Gu Xidong, and handed it to him.

Gu Xidong hesitated for a moment, then took it.

He wiped the sweat from his face, but his gaze never left her.

He had to ask.

"Who exactly are you?" he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "You used to... practice figure skating?"

Ling Wuwen's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

She did not answer.

She simply turned around and bent down to pick up the ice skate bag that was on the ground.

Gu Xidong saw her the moment she bent down.

I saw the back of her neck, which had been turned inside out from her collar due to the violent slide.

On her fair, slender nape, near her hairline, there was a... dark red scar.

The shape of that scar was very strange.

It doesn't look like a typical burn or fall.

Its shape resembled a bird with broken wings, falling.

Gu Xidong's pupils suddenly contracted.

That pattern...

He had seen it.

At an internal exchange meeting of the International Skating Union a year before the "Black Swan event," an athlete from a highly mysterious "special training program" in Eastern Europe had an identical tattoo on the back of his neck.

That contestant later "disappeared" in an accident.

It is said that the "special training program" exists specifically to create "competitive machines".

They are not allowed to have names, only code names.

They were stripped of all emotions and trained only to be perfect tools for carrying out actions.

At the time, Gu Xidong only thought it was a terrifying legend.

But now, that legendary mark was on the neck of the woman before him.

Ling Wuwen seemed to notice his gaze and abruptly stopped.

She quickly pulled up her collar to completely cover the scar.

Then, she stood up, her back to the light, so her expression was not visible.

She simply uttered a sentence, her voice colder than the temperature of the ice rink:

"Gu Xidong, there are some things that, if you knew them, you wouldn't survive."

"Now, keep skating."

"Until you forget that metronome, until you... become that metronome."

After saying that, she hugged her ice skate bag and walked quickly toward the exit.

Gu Xidong was left alone, standing on the empty ice, his whole body freezing cold.

He watched her hurried departure, then looked down at the ice skates beneath his feet.

The metronome still lies quietly next to the speaker.

He walked over, bent down, and picked it up.

The cold, metallic casing pressed against his palm.

He suddenly realized that this abandoned ice rink, this winter, and this woman named Lin Wuwen were all connected.

It's all a huge, terrifying mystery.