Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

Three-tenths of a second before the gunshot, Gu Xidong heard a metallic scraping sound.

In the third row on the west side of the audience seating, the holster buckle popped open.

The leather rubbed against the fabric—someone stood up, their clothes brushing against the back of the chair.

He turned around.

He pushed off the ice with his left foot, slid to the side, and left a trail of afterimages in his performance costume.

Gunshots rang out.

The first shot hit the spot where he had just been, the ice surface shattered, and shards of ice flew up half a meter.

The second shot followed the movement, the bullet grazing the right shoulder, tearing through the silver feathers, the white down scattering in the air.

The scream erupted half a second later.

Two thousand people gasped simultaneously like a tsunami, and security guards ducked and covered their heads. The instructions on the walkie-talkies were chaotic.

Gu Xidong slid towards the edge.

His gaze swept across the audience.

Eight.

All eight men stood up simultaneously and drew their guns at the same time. Their movements were synchronized, and all the gun barrels were pointed at him.

The killer of black swans.

Ye Shen's final move.

The raven's urgent call came through the earphones:

"The control room is locked down, and Ling Wuwen can't get out. Four assassins are moving that way, and the other four are targeting you. I need thirty seconds to crack the access control."

Gu Xidong did not answer.

I made a sharp turn on the ice and my left knee is tearing with pain.

The fluid in his joint cavity was sloshing around, compressing his nerves. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain.

Eight assassins, four from the upper echelons and four from the lower echelons.

Three people on the upper level moved towards the control room, while one provided cover.

Four people on the bottom floor are climbing over the guardrail.

The closest person has stepped onto the ice—a tall man in a gray jacket, gripping a gun in both hands. His ice skates are unsteady, making him walk slowly, but the gun barrel remains steady.

Twenty meters.

Too far.

He skated toward the hole that had collapsed in the center of the ice rink.

The ice around the edge of the hole was unstable. I stopped abruptly three meters away, used my ice skates to scrape up the broken ice, and slid into the darkness.

The assassin stopped, stared at the hole, and hesitated for a second.

Gu Xidong bent down and picked up a piece of broken ice—it flew out when the ice broke, its edges as sharp as a short knife.

He turned around to face the assassin.

Twenty meters.

The assassin raised his gun.

Gu Xidong lifted the broken ice and looked at the spotlight through the ice crystals; the light refracted into seven-colored spots.

The assassin pulls the trigger.

He dodged to the side the instant the muzzle flashed.

The bullet grazed my left rib, causing a burning pain, but it didn't hit a vital spot. Using the momentum from my sidestep, I pushed off the ice with my left leg and lunged forward onto the ice.

He glided along the ice, like diving onto a base.

Extremely fast.

The assassin adjusted his gun, but Gu Xidong had already slipped into a blind spot—too close, the angle at which the gun was pressed down was insufficient.

five meters.

Gu Xidong propped himself up, gripping the shattered ice like a dagger.

The assassin raised his leg and kicked him in the head.

He ducked to avoid it, then grabbed his ankle with his left hand and pulled hard.

The assassin lost his balance on the ice and fell, dropping his gun.

Gu Xidong pounced.

The shards of ice pierced his throat.

The assassin parried with his left hand. Ice crystals pierced his glove and embedded themselves in his palm, blood gushing out and dripping onto the ice, turning crimson.

The assassin grunted and drew his tactical knife with his right hand, stabbing it towards his abdomen.

Gu Xidong turned around.

The blade tore through the performance costume, leaving a shallow cut on the side. He grabbed the other person's wrist and twisted it in the opposite direction, the bones snapping with a crisp sound. The knife fell onto the ice.

Knees pressed against chest, ice shards pressed against Adam's apple.

"How many people?" the voice asked in a low voice.

The assassin's eyes were cold, and he remained silent.

"How many are in the control room?"

silence.

The crushed ice worsened the condition, cutting the skin at the edges and causing blood to seep out.

"Four," the assassin rasped. "Three on the upper level go to the door, the fourth provides cover. Four on the lower level, I'll go first."

"Ye Shen?"

"They escaped. Through the secret passage."

Gu Xidong looked up at the VIP box. Behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, it was empty; the door was open, and UN forces were searching it.

"The secret passage exit?"

"I don't know. Each executor only knows their own task."

The killer wasn't lying.

Gu Xidong released his grip, stood up, picked up the Glock 17, its magazine full. He inspected the weapon and aimed it at the assassin's forehead.

"Lie still and wait for the police."

The assassin didn't move.

Gu Xidong turned and slid towards the control room.

2

Ling Wuwen stood in front of the glass, looking down.

She saw Gu Xidong subdue the assassin, pick up the gun, and slide to the east side.

My fingers pressed against the glass, my palms were sweaty.

The control room door was forcibly locked by external access.

Access control system red: "Emergency lockdown - External threat confirmed."

Raven's voice came through the earpiece, broken and fragmented: "The password has been changed... at least two minutes..."

Ling Wuwen looked towards the door.

Three men in plainclothes were approaching in the corridor. They walked slowly and steadily, and they were carrying guns.

The one at the very front stopped in front of the control room door, and I could see her through the small window in the door.

He smiled.

He raised his gun and aimed it at the door lock.

The first shot. Metal clashed, sparks flew from the door lock.

The second shot. The lock deformed.

The third shot. The door opens.

The three people walked in.

The control room is small, with three rows of consoles and screens displaying monitoring data for each area.

Ling Wuwen retreated to the innermost part, leaning against the wall.

"Ms. Ling." The leading man spoke in Russian with an Eastern European accent, "Mr. Ye wants to see you."

"Ye Shen ran away."

"That's why he needs you even more." The man took a step forward. "He's been waiting a long time for the child in your belly."

The other two spread out and flanked from both sides.

Ling Wuwen fumbled under the control panel, her fingertips touching a switch—a miniature electromagnetic pulse device she had hidden herself.

The range is only enough to cover the room, but it can burn all electronic devices, including the killer's communicator and any fuses it may be carrying.

The cost was the paralysis of the control room system.

And the fetus. The effects of the pulse on the fetus are unknown.

She hesitated for a second.

The assassin pounced from the left.

Ling Wuwen dodged to the side and drew his speed skating blade from under the control panel with his right hand—the blade was forty centimeters long, like a slender sword.

Swing a knife.

The blade sliced ​​across the assassin's ribs, cutting through his clothes and skin.

The assassin groaned and stepped back, his clothes stained red with blood.

Both men fired their guns simultaneously.

Ling Wuwen leaned down, and a bullet hit the screen behind her, shattering the glass.

After she rolled to another row of control panels, her ice blades scraped the ground with a piercing hiss.

"Don't kill her!" the leader shouted. "Keep her alive!"

The gunfire stopped.

Ling Wuwen hid behind the control panel, panting.

Abdominal contractions and pain—not an injury, but abnormally strong fetal movement. The baby senses danger.

She gritted her teeth and pressed her hand to her abdomen.

"Don't be afraid, baby. Mommy's here."

Footsteps approached.

The two men flanked the enemy from both sides.

Ling Wuwen gripped the ice blade tightly.

Then she heard a sound coming from the direction of the ice rink—ice skates cutting through the ice, rapidly and densely, approaching from afar.

Look up at the glass wall.

Gu Xidong glided in.

He jumped from the edge of the ice rink, leaped over the railing, and landed on the second-floor corridor.

The ice skates slipped on the tiles, causing him to stumble a couple of steps, regain his balance, and rush towards the control room.

The fourth assassin outside the door turned around and raised his gun.

Gu Xidong didn't stop.

Fire two shots while running.

The first shot hit the shoulder, the second hit the abdomen. The assassin fell.

Gu Xidong rushed into the control room.

He saw three assassins, and then he saw Ling Wuwen hiding behind the control panel.

Without pausing, the gun was aimed at the nearest person.

The assassin turned and fired. The bullet grazed Gu Xidong's cheek, and blood splattered.

Gu Xidong pulled the trigger, and all three shots hit the assassin in the chest. The assassin fell backward, crashing into the control panel, and the screen went black.

The other two opened fire simultaneously.

Gu Xidong fell and rolled behind the control panel.

Bullets chased after him, shattering glass, piercing the main unit, and sending sparks flying from the wires.

Ling Wuwen rushed out from the other side.

The ice blade pierced the second assassin's back.

The assassin noticed and turned to block. The ice blade collided with his arm, the blade wedging into bone. Ling Wuwen twisted hard, the assassin screamed, and the gun fell to the ground.

The third one—the leader—turned his gun on Ling Wuwen.

Gu Xidong stood up from behind the control panel.

They fired at the same time.

The assassin's bullet struck Ling Wuwen in the left shoulder.

Gu Xidong's bullet struck the assassin between the eyebrows.

Time stood still.

3

Ling Wuwen fell backward, her ice blade slipping from her hand. A burning pain shot through her left shoulder, and blood quickly soaked through her clothes. She slammed into the control panel and slid down.

Gu Xidong rushed over and knelt down.

"Where are you hurt?" He pressed his hand against her shoulder, and blood gushed from between his fingers.

"Shoulder." Ling Wuwen gasped. "The child... seems..."

Her abdomen tightened again, more violently. Her face turned pale, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

Gu Xidong tore off the sleeve of his performance costume and tightly bandaged the wound on her shoulder. He picked her up and rushed towards the door.

"Raven!" he shouted into his headset, "Evacuation route!"

Only electrical noise.

I rushed out of the control room; the corridor was deserted. Footsteps approached from the stairwell in the distance—more people were getting closer, friend or foe unclear.

He turned toward the fire escape.

The door was locked.

He put Ling Wuwen down and kicked the door. Three kicks later, the lock snapped open. He picked her up and rushed down the stairs.

The stairwell was dark, except for the green light at the emergency exit. Footsteps echoed through the concrete, blurring the lines between friend and foe.

Go down to the first floor and push open the fire door.

Underground Parking Lot.

The space was empty and quiet, with only a few emergency lights on. In the distance, sirens wailed as they approached.

Gu Xidong carried Ling Wuwen and hid behind the truck.

Check the injuries.

The shoulder didn't hit an artery, and the bleeding had stopped. But the abdominal contractions were getting shorter and shorter.

"She might be going to give birth prematurely," Ling Wuwen whispered. "She's only eight months along..."

"Hang in there. The ambulance is on its way."

I looked up at the entrance. A police car with blue and red flashing lights approached.

On the other side, headlights also came on—three black SUVs, without police lights, quietly drove in.

The car door opened.

They were dressed in civilian clothes, moved in a neat and orderly manner, and were fully equipped with tactical gear.

Not a police officer.

They are not UN forces.

Gu Xidong recognized one of them—one of the men in gray suits who had been sitting behind the referee's table earlier.

Interpol agents, or imposters.

The man picked up a walkie-talkie and said something, then everyone dispersed to search.

Gu Xidong picked up Ling Wuwen and retreated along the shadow of the truck.

I retreated to a corner filled with clutter. The manhole cover was half open, revealing a pipe layer underneath.

Put Ling Wuwen down and lift the manhole cover.

"Get out of here."

Ling Wuwen shook his head: "Together."

"I'm the target. Go down there; they won't search thoroughly."

"Your child needs you."

"Your child needs you to live more." Gu Xidong pushed open the manhole cover. "The passage below leads to the subway station. Go there and wait for the ambulance. Claim you're an ordinary injured person, and don't mention your name."

Help her climb into the well.

Ling Wuwen grabbed his hand.

"What are you going to do?"

"Leave them away, then come find you."

"What if you hadn't come?"

"Then take the child with you." Gu Xidong looked into her eyes. "The Alps, the carousel, remember?"

Ling Wuwen's eyes reddened.

Nod, let go, and slide down into the well.

Gu Xidong covered the well with the manhole cover and hid it with debris.

He turned and walked towards the center of the parking lot.

The footsteps were loud.

Everyone turned around and raised their guns.

Gu Xidong raised his hands.

"I surrender."

The man in the gray suit walked over and looked her up and down.

"Mr. Gu Xidong, you are suspected of endangering public safety, illegal possession of firearms, and attempted murder. Please cooperate with the investigation."

Gu Xidong remained silent.

The man gestured for his men to come forward and handcuff him.

The cold metal gripped my wrist.

Gu Xidong was escorted to the SUV.

Before getting on the vehicle, take one last look at the direction of the maintenance well.

The manhole cover was quietly closed, and the debris was scattered around, leaving no trace.

I looked away and got into the car.

The car door closed.

Engine starts.

Three SUVs drove out of the parking lot and merged into the traffic of Moscow's late night.

While repairing the well, Ling Wuwen leaned against the cold pipe wall, his hand on his abdomen, listening to the sound of wheels receding into the distance.

Tears finally fell.