1

Six o'clock in the morning.

The Times of London's website has changed its headline to a black background.

The title has only seven words: "The biggest scandal in sports history".

The subtitle was finalized after three revisions: "International Skating Union Officials Accept Bribes to Manipulate Competition Results, Multiple Athletes Become Victims."

The printing plant printed an additional 200,000 copies.

A truck delivering newspapers got stuck in traffic on the M25 highway, and the driver took a picture of the newspaper sample and posted it on Twitter.

It was forwarded over 10,000 times within three minutes.

Tokyo.

The Yomiuri Shimbun's social section front page featured a double-line headline: "The figure skating world is shaken."

The accompanying image shows Gu Xidong pointing one finger at the camera after completing a quadruple Axel jump, with ice shards freezing into white specks in mid-air.

new York.

The New York Times website automatically played a clip of Zhou Wentao's outburst at a press conference.

The number of comments in the comment section below exceeded 20,000 within three hours.

Pinned comment: "He broke his knee, but they broke the sport."

Beijing.

The top ten trending topics on Weibo are all related to this topic.

The article "Gu Xidong Retires" has garnered 700 million views.

The search index for "Ling Wuwen Ling Wufeng" has surged three thousand times compared to yesterday.

The first post under the topic "Trial on Ice" is a screenshot of a handwritten text: "Live to spring for me."

It has been forwarded eight million times.

One commenter wrote, "I cried all morning."

Some people said, "His brother has been waiting for this spring for three years."

Some say, "We owe them an apology."

2

The athletes' joint letter was released at noon.

The first letter came from the Russian national figure skating team. It was signed by seventeen active skaters, including a three-time world champion. The letter read: "We have witnessed, we have remained silent, we have compromised. Today, we will no longer remain silent."

The second letter came from Japan. It was signed by forty-one people, ranging from the youth team to the senior team. Someone had drawn a heart next to their name in red pen and wrote next to it: "Gu-san, see you at the ice rink."

The third letter came from the United States. It was brief, containing only one sentence: "We stand with you."

The joint letter was like snowflakes.

Canada, France, South Korea, Italy. Active and retired athletes, coaches, choreographers, and ice rink maintenance workers.

A former Winter Olympian, retired 20 years ago, posted his 1998 competition certificate on social media: "That year I also lost to 'referee factors.' I thought it was because I wasn't good enough. Now I know."

The rally began in the afternoon.

Moscow.

The small ice rink next to Red Square is usually only open to tourists. Today, the entrance was crowded with people wearing ice skates.

They weren't skating; they were just standing there. The sign they held up read: "The ice is transparent, and so should the judges."

Toronto.

More than two hundred people spontaneously gathered in the city hall square.

Someone brought a photo of Gu Xidong from the 2015 Grand Prix and held it above their head.

In the photo, he is 21 years old, has just finished his free skate, and is looking up at the scoreboard.

Beijing.

At the entrance of the Capital Indoor Stadium Ice Rink, ice skating fans presented 999 white roses.

A card with a handwritten inscription was attached to the bouquet: "For the person who flies on the ice."

Twitter trending charts.

#Defend Gu Xidong# Reaching the top, surpassing the World Cup, surpassing breaking news, surpassing all entertainment gossip.

Someone posted a GIF under the topic: Gu Xidong's quadruple Axel jump, slow motion of the landing moment.

The caption read: "This is what humanity should be remembered for."

3

But where there is light, there is shadow.

The first offensive comment appeared at 9:00 AM.

"Damaging the image of sports"—these five words came from an account with no official registration or identity.

The number of reposts was less than one hundred.

But two hours later, similar wording appeared on social media in 27 different countries.

Similar wording. Similar punctuation. Similar release intervals.

One o'clock in the afternoon.

A TV station invited a "sports ethics expert" to its commentary program.

The expert said to the camera, "This is a staged performance. A retired athlete, an unidentified woman, and an unverifiable diary—do you believe it?"

The host pressed for evidence.

The expert shrugged: "I have no evidence. But neither do you."

3 PM.

"Manipulation by foreign forces" has become a new keyword.

A lengthy post appeared on a forum, analyzing the loopholes in Ling Wuwen's identity point by point:

"Why didn't she show up three years ago? Why is she showing up now? Who is funding her? Why did Gu Xidong choose to retire before the World Championships?"

The article concludes: "This is a meticulously planned propaganda war."

The first comment in the comment section reads: "Thumbs up. We cannot let foreign forces succeed."

Second question: "How much money did the original poster receive?"

Article 3: "The truth is right there; you're blind if you can't see it."

The debate has spread from social media to real life.

There was an argument at the sign-off desk for the joint letter.

A middle-aged man shoved aside the volunteers, his voice echoing down the corridor: "What do you know? These athletes make their living from sports, and now you're turning around and smearing them!"

The volunteer was a girl in her early twenties.

She gripped the pen tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"They weren't the ones who ruined things," she said.

The middle-aged man was stunned.

The girl put down her pen.

"I've been figure skating for twelve years," she said.

"I joined the provincial team at twelve and retired at fifteen. It wasn't that I didn't want to train, it was that I didn't have the money. Funds that should have been allocated to the grassroots level were diverted to 'grease palms'."

She ripped her work ID off her neck and slammed it on the table.

"You're telling me this is a case of 'smashing the pot'?"

She turned and left.

The middle-aged man stood still.

No one around spoke.

4

But the truth can no longer be concealed.

Five o'clock in the afternoon.

The Norwegian Ministry of Sport issued a statement on its official website:

All domestic duties involving referees in International Skating Union events have been suspended, and an independent investigation has been launched.

七点。

The German Olympic Committee followed up:

The International Skating Union (ISU) is required to submit the original data of judges' scores for all World Championships from 2015 to 2019 within one week.

Eight o'clock.

France.

Canada.

South Korea.

Japan.

Sports authorities in 21 countries launched self-inspection procedures on the same day.

Outside the headquarters of the International Skating Union, a motorcade of journalists stretched for 300 meters.

The security guards added an iron fence inside the gate, and then added a second fence behind it.

Someone handed over an interview request through the fence, but the security guard neither accepted it nor refused it; he just stood there.

10 PM.

The International Olympic Committee (IOC) posted a brief statement on its official website: "We are closely monitoring the situation and support all investigations aimed at upholding the integrity of sport."

The International Skating Union was not mentioned.

No specific officials were mentioned.

But everyone understood it.

midnight.

An anonymous official was cornered by reporters at the airport.

He dragged his suitcase, head down, and hurried towards the security checkpoint. A reporter followed up with a question:

"Do you know Zhou Wentao? Have you received any funding from organizations under Ye Shen's name?"

He didn't answer.

We've arrived at the security checkpoint.

He handed over his passport and boarding pass, which the staff scanned, and the machine beeped.

He disappeared at the end of the security checkpoint.

The reporters stood still.

Someone glanced at the time and dictated into the recording pen:

"At 12:17 a.m., the target entered the international area and lost signal."

5

The stadium's underground parking lot.

A black minivan started up, its headlights illuminating the number on the pillar in front: B-47.

Gu Xidong sat on the left side of the back row.

The car windows were tinted dark, so people outside couldn't see inside.

He rested his left knee on the seat, his skates on the footpad, and the laces tied in a slipknot.

Ling Wuwen walked in from the elevator entrance.

She changed her clothes. She swapped her gray hoodie for a black down jacket, zipping it all the way up to cover her chin.

The bandage on my left shoulder is no longer visible, but when I walk, my left arm swings less than my right arm, and every step feels like I'm measuring distance.

She opened the car door and sat in the back right seat.

The door closed with a muffled sound. The weatherstripping was too thick, blocking out all outside noise.

The driver was a young man who didn't say anything. He glanced at them in the rearview mirror and stepped on the gas.

The car drove out of the underground parking lot.

The exit ramp is long and spirals downwards.

There is an explosion-proof light every ten meters on the wall, and the light circles across the car window like the rotation of an old film projector.

At the end of the ramp is the toll gate.

The license plate was scanned, and the barrier lifted.

The car drove onto the ground.

6

The Moscow night view flows past the car window.

At the end of October, the temperature was close to zero degrees Celsius.

The streetlights stretched the shadows of the roadside trees, and the bare branches drew fine cracks on the asphalt road.

A man walks his dog across a pedestrian crossing.

The dog is a husky, which walks slowly, so the man has to slow down to accommodate it.

The dog stopped and sniffed at the cracks in the floor tiles. The man waited for it.

The red light turned green. Their car stopped.

The dog is still sniffing.

The man bent down, patted the dog's back, and whispered something. The dog finally looked up and followed him.

The green light is on.

The car starts.

Ling Wuwen leaned against the car window; the glass was cool, and she pressed her forehead against it, looking at the city flowing backwards outside the window.

The Kremlin spires are in the distance. The lights of Red Square outline the buildings in gold, like the burn marks on the edges of an old photograph.

Her breath left a small patch of white mist on the glass.

She reached out and drew a circle in the mist.

Another car can be seen through the window. That car also has dark tint, so you can't see who's inside.

The two cars were traveling side by side for twenty meters.

Then they parted ways.

One turns left, the other goes straight.

She watched the car's taillights disappear into the side mirror.

"Is it over?" she asked.

The voice was very soft. It wasn't directed at Gu Xidong, but at the car window, the fog, and the circle she had drawn on the glass.

Gu Xidong did not answer immediately.

He looked in the driver's side rearview mirror.

In the mirror, the stadium's outline is shrinking. The white membrane roof glows faintly in the night, like a giant seashell stranded on land.

The vehicle made a turn.

The stadium was obscured by buildings, with only a corner of the roof visible.

Another bend.

Disappeared completely.

"The first phase is over," he said.

Ling Wuwen did not turn his head.

She looked at the circle she had drawn on the car window.

The fog began to dissipate, blurring the edges of the circle into an irregular shape. She traced it again with her fingertip.

This time, no trace was left.

She withdrew her hand.

The car was very quiet.

The only sound was the tires rolling over the road seams, one beat after another, like a stretched-out heartbeat.

The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror.

The two people in the back seat, one looking out the window, the other looking at the other. Neither of them spoke.

The driver shifted his gaze back to the road ahead.

Ahead lies the Moscow Ring Road. Traffic is sparse, and streetlights stretch to the horizon, forming a long, luminous line in the night.

At the end of the long line, nothing can be seen.

Only darkness.

And the snow that is about to fall in the darkness.

Two o'clock in the morning.

The International Skating Union's official website is suddenly inaccessible.

Technicians conducted an emergency investigation and discovered that the server had suffered a large-scale DDoS attack. The source of the attack was scattered across forty-three countries and could not be traced.

Three o'clock in the morning.

Zhou Wentao's lawyer issued a statement: The client will exercise his right to remain silent and refuse to answer any questions.

Four o'clock in the morning.

Chen Guodong suffered a sudden heart attack while in detention. He could not be revived en route to the hospital. Time of death: 4:17 AM.

Five o'clock in the morning.

A new hashtag has appeared on Twitter: #ISupportGuXidong#

The initiator remains anonymous.

The first tweet contained only one sentence:

"The truth does not stop growing just because someone dies."

The accompanying photo shows Gu Xidong standing in the center of the ice rink after completing a quadruple Axel. A spotlight shines on him, and his shadow is reflected on the ice.

The shadow is very long.

Extending beyond the frame.

It extends to places he cannot see.

Extending into the last darkness before dawn.

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