Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

The phone rang at 7:03 a.m.

Gu Xidong glanced at the screen. It was his agent, Lao Wu. He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket.

At 7:05, it rang again.

He answered the call.

"Gu Xidong, are you crazy?" Old Wu's voice boomed from the receiver; you could feel his lips trembling even through the phone.

"Three endorsements, one regular appearance on a variety show, two commercial performances—you gave them all up?"

"Refund."

Do you know how much the penalty for breach of contract is?

"Know."

"Do you know how long I spent negotiating these contracts?"

"Know."

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Old Wu took a deep breath and lowered his voice:

"Tell me the truth, is someone threatening you? Is it because those old grudges aren't over yet—"

"no."

"Then why?"

Gu Xidong looked at the end of the corridor.

The ward door was closed, and the nurse had just gone in to change the dressing.

A blurry figure could be seen through the frosted glass of the door; the nurse was working with her head down, while the person on the bed remained motionless.

"Ling Wuwen is in the hospital," he said.

"I know. But you can hire a caregiver, you can arrange for someone to take care of you, you can—"

"Old Wu."

Old Wu stopped.

"Money can be earned again," Gu Xidong said. "The game can be won again."

He paused.

"But there's only one of her."

There was no sound on the other end of the phone.

After a long time, Old Wu sighed.

"I understand," he said. "I'll handle the contract. You... take care of yourself."

The phone hangs up.

Gu Xidong put his phone back in his pocket.

The nurse pushed open the door, saw him, and nodded.

He stood up, his left knee stiff. He pressed his hand against his thigh, waiting for the sharp pain to subside.

"She's awake," the nurse said.

He went inside.

2

Ling Wuwen leaned against the headboard.

The IV tubing extended from my left arm to the infusion pump beside the bed, the machine making a soft dripping sound every few minutes.

Her complexion was better than yesterday, her lips weren't as dry, and her eyes were brighter.

She watched him walk in.

I watched him sit down on the plastic chair by the bed.

Watching him straighten his left leg and massage his knee with his hand.

"I heard the phone call," she said.

He didn't speak.

"Three endorsements, one variety show, two performances," she counted. "How much?"

"have no idea."

"have no idea?"

"I haven't calculated it."

She looked at him.

He bent down and massaged his knee, pressing his fingers under the patella and slowly kneading.

There's a scar there, from surgery three years ago, which required seventeen stitches.

"Is it worth it?" she asked.

He looked up.

"You should be on the ice rink," she said.

"Giving interviews, taking photos, participating in events. You've fought for sports fairness for so long, and now that you've won, it's time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Instead, you're here, sleeping in a folding bed, eating in the cafeteria, and cleaning up my excrement."

She stopped.

Is it worth it?

He looked at her.

He didn't blink.

"The ice rink is right here," he said.

He reached out and took her left hand, which was outside the blanket.

Her hands were cold; the IV needle was stuck in the back of her hand, and the surrounding skin was bluish-purple. He cupped his hands around hers and slowly rubbed them to warm them.

"Where are you?" he said. "That's my ice rink."

She didn't say anything.

She looked down at him holding her hand.

His hands were large, with thick knuckles and calluses on his palms—from holding ice skates for too long.

Those hands had spun thousands of times and jumped tens of thousands of times on the ice, and now they were simply holding her hands and gently rubbing them.

It's very light.

She looked up.

"Gu Xidong".

"Um."

"You know I don't have much time left."

He held her hand tightly.

"possible."

"possible?"

"A medical possibility. Not a possibility for me."

Her lips twitched slightly.

"You're not talking about science again."

"Science is your business," he said. "My business is yours."

3

The folding bed is at the end of the corridor.

It was placed against the wall next to the nurses' station. It was 1.8 meters long and 60 centimeters wide, with a green canvas cover and a dent in the middle.

During the day, it's folded up and placed against the wall; at night, it's unfolded, and Gu Xidong sleeps on top of it.

On the first night, the head nurse saw him and asked if he wanted a companion bed arranged.

He said no.

The second night, the nurse on duty brought him a blanket. He thanked her.

On the third night, the blanket was returned. The nurse discovered that he hadn't covered himself at all, so she folded the blanket and placed it aside. He was curled up on the narrow bed, his left leg unable to straighten, resting on the bed railing at the foot of the bed.

The nurse didn't ask any more questions.

Three o'clock in the morning.

The hallway lights were dimmed.

Only the nurses' station was lit by a white light. The nurse on duty sat in front of the computer typing, occasionally glancing up at the monitor screen.

Gu Xidong opened his eyes.

The folding bed was too short, and his feet dangled outside.

His left knee was bent at the wrong angle, and it hurt no matter how he lay down. He turned to his side, curled up his legs, and leaned his back against the wall.

The ward door was closed. Ling Wuwen was asleep.

He listened to the dripping sound of the IV pump leaking from the crack in the door, one drip after another, like a heartbeat.

Four o'clock.

The nurse stood up, walked to the ward door, and looked inside through the frosted glass. She turned around, saw him, and paused for a moment.

"Not asleep?"

"I can't sleep."

The nurse came over and knelt down beside his bed.

Lowering her voice, she said, "You can go back to sleep during the day. She doesn't have anything to do at night; we're here for her."

"fine."

The nurse glanced at him but didn't try to persuade him further. He stood up and went back to the nurses' station.

The corridor became quiet again.

He kept his eyes open.

Five o'clock.

It started to get light outside the window. One by one, the lights in the hospital building across the street came on.

The cleaning staff pushed their cart past, the wheels making a very soft sound as they rolled over the ground.

He sat up.

The folding bed creaked. He folded the blankets, rolled up the bed frame, and leaned it back against the wall.

stand up.

His left knee throbbed with pain, so he leaned against the wall for support. Once the pain subsided, he walked to the door of the ward and pushed it open.

Ling Wuwen woke up.

She turned to look at him.

"Not asleep again?"

"Going to sleep."

"That's a lie."

He walked over and sat on the chair by the bed.

She reached out and touched his face. Her fingers were cool, and her nails traced his chin, where there was a bluish stubble.

"You've lost weight," she said.

"I haven't lost weight."

"You've lost weight."

He took her hand.

The sun rose outside the window. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, cutting a narrow golden stripe across the floor.

She looked at the light.

"The weather is nice today," she said.

"Um."

"Could you go out for a walk?"

He looked at her.

"Let's go together," he said.

4

At nine o'clock in the morning, Director Wang came to check on the patients.

He looked at yesterday's medical report, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples.

"The rejection reaction is under control. The immunosuppressants are working," he said. "But you need to be prepared, this is only temporary."

Ling Wuwen leaned against the headboard.

"What does 'temporary' mean?"

"This means that as soon as you stop taking the medication, the rejection reaction will return immediately. In fact, you might not even need to stop taking the medication; your body may produce new antibodies that attack even more aggressively."

Director Wang put the report back on the bedside table.

"She needs to be hospitalized for observation for an extended period, at least three months. If her condition stabilizes, we can consider having her return home to recuperate. However, she must strictly adhere to isolation measures, avoiding crowded places, contact with sick individuals, and limiting her living space to within her home and hospital area."

He looked after west Dong.

Have you thought this through?

Gu Xidong stood by the bed.

"I've thought it through."

Director Wang nodded. He turned and left, stopping at the door.

"You can continue sleeping on that bed in the hallway," he said without turning around.

The door closed.

Ling Wuwen looked at Gu Xidong.

"Three months," she said.

"Um."

"Your knee needs rehabilitation training."

"Um."

"You can't do rehabilitation here."

He looked out the window.

"There's a small garden downstairs," he said. "You can run laps there."

"Running laps?"

"Hmm. One lap is about 100 meters. Running 30 laps is 3 kilometers."

She looked at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Um."

She didn't say anything more.

Outside the window, there were indeed people jogging in the small garden downstairs.

A middle-aged man in a hospital gown was jogging slowly around the flower bed. He would run a few steps and then stop.

She looked at that person.

"You'll become like that too," she said.

"What?"

"Run a few steps and then stop."

He did not answer.

She turned to look at him.

He looked at her.

"Is it worth it?" she asked again.

He took her hand.

"You already asked," he said.

"I'll ask again."

He lowered his head and touched her fingers with his lips.

It's very light.

My answer was the same.

5

At 3 PM, agent Lao Wu arrived.

He was carrying a fruit basket, wearing a suit, and his leather shoes were polished to a shine.

When I entered the ward, I looked around to make sure there were no reporters before placing the fruit basket on the bedside table.

"Miss Ling, are you feeling better?"

Ling Wuwen nodded.

Old Wu pulled over the plastic chair and sat down. The chair wobbled slightly, but he steadied himself and looked at Gu Xidong.

"There are a few things I need to tell you in person."

Gu Xidong stood by the window.

"explain."

Old Wu took out his tablet from his bag and opened a folder.

"First, the national team called. They asked about your knee condition and whether you could participate in next year's World Championships. I didn't give a definite answer."

Gu Xidong remained silent.

"Secondly, a documentary crew wants to film you. It'll air on the biggest platform in China during prime time. The pay is high, and it can help you maintain your popularity."

Gu Xidong remained silent.

"The third one," Old Wu turned a page.

"An investor wants to invest money to build a skating school for you. He said you don't need to put up any money, you just need to be listed as an investor and occasionally give guidance."

Gu Xidong remained silent.

Old Wu put the tablet back into his bag.

"I know you're not in the mood right now," he said, "but these opportunities are rare; you need to think it through."

Gu Xidong walked to the bedside.

He sat down and took Ling Wuwen's hand.

"I've thought it through," he said.

Old Wu looked at him.

Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds.

Old Wu stood up.

"Okay," he said. "I understand."

He walked to the door and stopped.

"Gu Xidong".

"Um."

"You're quite silly sometimes," Old Wu said without turning around.

The door closed.

Ling Wuwen looked at Gu Xidong.

He said you're stupid.

"Um."

"Aren't you going to argue?"

"He's right."

Her lips twitched slightly.

6

8 PM.

The nurse came to take my temperature. 36.8℃, normal. Blood pressure is normal. Blood oxygen is normal.

She ticked a row of boxes in the notebook, slowed down the IV drip, and left.

The ward was quiet.

Ling Wuwen stared at the ceiling. Gu Xidong sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand.

"There's a moon today," she said.

He looked out the window.

The curtains weren't fully drawn, leaving a narrow strip of fabric showing.

The night outside was a deep blue, the lights of the hospital building across the street were on, and the crescent moon hung between the two buildings.

"I saw it."

"Is it pretty?"

"nice."

She turned to look at him.

"Is it more like the spotlight you used to be under on the ice?"

He thought about it.

"no the same."

"How are they different?"

"The spotlight is hot," he said. "The moon is bright."

She didn't say anything.

He looked out the window.

"The lights on the ice rink are also on," he said. "The light reflected off the ice feels cool on your face, but the audience feels it's hot."

She gripped his hand tightly.

Do you want to go back to the ice rink now?

He looked down at her.

"In no mood."

Why?

"The ice rink is there, you can't run away," he said. "But you..."

He didn't finish speaking.

She waited for him.

After a long time, he said, "You can't escape."

She didn't say anything.

The moon outside the window moved an inch. It moved from between the two buildings to above the rooftop, and the light dimmed a little.

She closed her eyes.

"Gu Xidong".

"Um."

"Go for a run tomorrow."

"it is good."

"Take me with you."

He looked at her.

"it is good."

7

One o'clock in the morning.

Ling Wuwen suddenly woke up.

She turned to look at the bedside. The plastic chair was empty. She looked towards the door; it was ajar, and hallway light shone through the crack.

She pressed the call button by the bedside.

The nurse pushed the door open and came in.

"What's wrong?"

"Where are the others?"

The nurse glanced out the door.

"The hallway. On the folding bed."

She lay back down.

The nurse walked to the door and looked back at her.

"Should I call him?"

"Need not."

The nurse left.

Ling Wuwen stared at the ceiling.

The IV pump dripped softly. The moon had already disappeared from view, leaving only a few lights still burning in the opposite hospital building.

She closed her eyes.

Imagine him on that folding bed in the hallway. It's 1.8 meters long and 60 centimeters wide, with his feet dangling outside, and his left leg hurting no matter how he positions it.

She opened her eyes.

She slowly sat up. With the IV line pulling her arm, she carefully held onto the pump and moved her feet off the bed.

stand up.

Her knees buckled slightly, but she steadied herself by grabbing the bedside table.

She slowly walked towards the door.

The door opened.

The corridor lights were dimmed. The nurses' station was illuminated by a bright white light. The nurse on duty was dozing off at her desk.

The folding bed was placed against the wall.

He lay on it.

He lay sideways, his back against the wall, his left leg bent and his right leg straight. The blanket slipped to the floor, but he didn't pick it up.

She walked over.

She bent down, picked up the blanket, and gently covered him with it.

He didn't wake up.

She crouched down and looked at him.

The corridor light shone on his face, revealing details that were usually invisible:

Fine lines at the corners of the eyes, two shallow vertical lines between the eyebrows, stubble on the chin, and chapped lips.

She reached out her hand.

Her fingers hovered in front of his face, but she didn't touch him.

It's just hanging in the balance.

long time.

She withdrew her hand.

stand up.

I slowly walked back to the ward.

Before the door closed, she glanced back at him.

He's still asleep.

The blanket covered his shoulders, his breathing was steady, and the vertical line between his eyebrows had faded a little.

She closed the door.

8

Seven o'clock in the morning.

Gu Xidong woke up.

The folding bed creaked. He sat up, his left knee throbbing with pain. He pressed it and waited for the pain to subside.

stand up.

The blanket slipped to the floor. He picked it up, folded it neatly, and placed it on the folding bed. He folded the bed up and leaned it back against the wall.

The nurses' station had a shift change. The new nurse nodded to him.

He pushed open the ward door.

Ling Wuwen woke up.

She leaned against the headboard and looked at him.

"Good morning," she said.

"morning."

He walked over and sat on the chair by the bed.

She reached out and touched his face.

My fingers are cold.

"You fell off the covers last night," she said.

He froze for a moment.

How did you know?

She didn't answer.

She looked at him.

"Gu Xidong".

"Um."

I dreamt about my brother last night.

He didn't speak.

"He stood at the end of the corridor, watching you," she said. "He watched you for a long time."

"and then?"

Then he laughed.

She stopped.

"He hasn't laughed in a long time."

He held her hand tightly.

The sun is rising outside the window.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, cutting a narrow golden stripe across the floor.

The narrow strip moved slowly, from the doorway to the foot of the bed, and from the foot of the bed to her feet.

She looked at the sunlight.

"He said thank you," she said.

Gu Xidong remained silent.

He lowered his head and touched her fingers with his lips.

It's very light.

The sunlight continued to move.