Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

3:17 a.m.

Raven's laptop screen was lit up in the dark hospital room.

He turned the brightness down to the lowest setting, the blue light illuminating only half of his face. His fingers moved silently across the keyboard.

Ling Wuwen was asleep.

The infusion pump dripped softly, one drop at a time.

The green line on the heart rate monitor slid smoothly. Gu Xidong was on a folding bed in the corridor, the door ajar.

Raven sat on the plastic chair in the corner, with a laptop propped on her lap.

The screen displays a map.

This is not a regular map.

It's a chart showing the flow of funds—red, blue, and yellow lines intertwine to form a network, starting from Eastern Europe, passing through Asia, and finally converging on a red dot on the Mediterranean coast.

Monaco.

He zoomed in on the picture.

The red line represents the "Red Hand Party".

The Eastern European gambling syndicate is headquartered in Kyiv, with branches throughout Minsk, Belgrade, and Budapest.

Ostensibly operating a sports betting business, it actually controlled underground gambling operations. Three-year revenue: 1.7 billion euros.

The blue line represents "Kowloon Harbour".

An Asian underground money exchange, headquartered in Mong Kok, with connections extending into Shenzhen, Singapore, and Kuala Lumpur.

Specializing in money laundering, high fees, but tight-lipped. Three years of transactions: 900 million euros.

The yellow line represents Ye Shen's "Black Swan" network.

The three lines converge in Monaco.

Remittance account: CMB Monaco.

He stared at the abbreviation.

CMB. Compagnie Monegasque de Banque. Monaco's private bank, founded in 1922, manages assets exceeding 20 billion euros.

He retrieved the bank records.

CMB Monaco, address: 24 Boulevard Princesse Charlotte.

Minimum deposit required: €500,000 or more. Featured services: private account management, cross-border fund transfers, and offshore wealth planning.

His finger hovered over the touchpad.

On the screen, the end of the fund flow chart is marked with a red circle. Next to the red circle is a line of small text:

Ultimate beneficiary: Undisclosed. Account custodian: Luxembourg law firm. Legal representative: Swiss national, deceased.

He leaned back in his chair.

The plastic chair wobbled.

He steadied himself and looked at the hospital bed.

Ling Wuwen turned over. The IV tube moved, and she frowned slightly, but didn't wake up.

The raven turns back to the screen.

He opened a second window.

These are transaction records he stole from the internal server of "Kowloon Club".

A 300-page PDF, with 20 transactions per page. His search keywords: Monaco, CMB, Monaco.

Seventeen strokes.

Earliest transaction: March 12, 2017. Amount: 3 million euros.

Remitter: Hong Kong offshore company "Blue Sky Capital". Beneficiary: CMB Monaco account, ending in 7714.

The latest transaction: September 5, 2023. Amount: 9 million euros.

Remitter: Coral Bay Holdings, a Singapore offshore company. Beneficiary: Same account number ending in 7714.

He calculated the time.

The first deposit into account 7714 occurred six months before Gu Xidong injured his left knee.

The last income came three months after Ling Wufeng's "surgical death".

He highlighted the two dates in red.

2

Four o'clock in the morning.

The raven stood up and went to the window.

The view outside the window is the backyard of the inpatient department.

A few cars were parked in the parking lot, but the streetlights were deserted. In the distance was the hospital building, with only a few windows lit up.

He glanced back at Ling Wuwen.

She's still asleep. Her breathing is steady.

He took out his phone and dialed a number.

It rang three times. The call was connected.

"Raven." The voice on the other end was deep, with a Russian accent. "What did you find?"

"CMB Monaco.7714 account".

The other side remained silent for three seconds.

"confirm?"

"The Red Hand Party's three-year turnover, totaling 1.7 billion euros, ultimately went into this account. Kowloon Club's 900 million euros also went into this account. I haven't received the complete data on the Black Swan's accounts yet, but preliminary analysis suggests that this is the main channel."

"Is it possible to find the beneficiary?"

"No. CMB is a long-established private bank in Monaco with a high level of confidentiality. The accounts are managed by a law firm in Luxembourg, whose legal representative died in a skiing accident last year."

"Accident?"

"It seems like an accident. But that ski resort is controlled by the Red Hand."

The other side remained silent again.

Ravens, etc.

"How much money is left in account 7714?"

"Unable to confirm. But based on the cash flow, the current funds are no less than two billion euros."

A car drove by outside the window. Its headlights swept across the parking lot and then disappeared around the corner.

"Ye Shen's goal is not just to manipulate the game," Raven said.

"The sports scandal is just the surface. He established a complete financial loop—the Red Hand provides the betting revenue, Kowloon Wallet is responsible for money laundering, and the Black Swan uses this money to bribe officials. The officials guarantee that the game results are predictable, and the betting revenue continues to grow."

"closed loop."

"Yes. Two billion euros is just a figure on paper. The actual amount of funds being controlled is probably three to five times that number."

The person on the other end took a deep breath.

"Is the data source reliable?"

"I logged into the Red Hand's server three times. Kowloon Club's accounts were copied from their CFO's computer. I'm still digging into the Black Swan part, but their encryption level is much higher than the previous two."

"How long will it take?"

"One week. If Ling Wuwen's health permits, I'd like to go to Monaco."

The other side paused.

"She can't go."

"I know." Raven looked at the hospital bed.

"But I need her brother's notes. Ling Wufeng had contact with Ye Shen's lawyer before his death, so he might have left something behind."

3

Five o'clock in the morning.

Ling Wuwen opened his eyes.

She turned her head and saw the ravens by the window. He stood in the shadows, the light from his phone screen illuminating half of his face.

"You're awake," he said.

She didn't answer. She just looked at him.

He walked back to the chair and sat down.

"I need your brother's notes," he said.

"The one from 2017. He had contact with Ye Shen's lawyer in Kyiv, and he might have taken notes."

Ling Wuwen looked at him.

Three seconds. Five seconds.

"Where?" she asked.

"In your hands."

She closed her eyes. After a while, she opened them again.

"Under the bedside table. In a hidden compartment."

The raven stood up and walked to the bedside table.

I crouched down and touched the bottom of the cabinet. My fingers slipped into the gap between the wooden board and the back panel and touched a layer of kraft paper.

He pulled it out.

A black notebook.

The cover is worn and the corners are curled. The inner pages are yellowed, and the blue ink has bled somewhat.

He opened it.

Page 1: January 2017. Training Log.

Page 2: February 2017. Competition Schedule.

Page 3: March 2017. Blank.

Page 4: April 2017. Kyiv.

He stopped.

The left side of the page displays the hotel name, contact number, and meeting time.

The right side contains a handwritten text, with darker ink than the left side, presumably added later.

He read it aloud.

"The lawyer's surname is Fedorov. He is around forty-five years old and wears gold-rimmed glasses. He said he represents a Luxembourg law firm and handles 'international sports affairs'."

He turned to the next page.

"He asked me if I was interested in 'business cooperation.' I asked what kind of cooperation. He said that some competition results need to be 'predictable.' I said I didn't understand. He laughed and said it's okay, I'll understand later."

Next page.

"As I left, he handed me a business card. It had a Luxembourg address, phone number, and email address. I looked up the law firm when I got back, and the registration information showed that the legal representative was Swiss. There was no further information online."

The raven looked up.

"Do you still have the business card?"

Ling Wuwen stared at the ceiling.

"Inside his clothes," she said. "The blue tracksuit he was wearing the day he died. Inside the pocket."

The raven stood up and walked to the wardrobe.

I opened the closet door, and there were a few pieces of clothing hanging inside.

The innermost one, blue, old, with the 2017 National Championships logo on the left chest.

He reached into his pocket.

I touched a card.

Pull it out.

Business card. White, thick paper, gold foil embossed edges. The front reads:

Feodorov & Partners

22 Rue Beaumont, Luxembourg

+352 26 47 89 12

The back has a handwritten line of text:

"If you can't find me one day, check this place."

The raven looked at the line of text.

The handwriting is the same as in the notebook.

4

Seven o'clock in the morning.

Gu Xidong pushed the door open and came in.

He saw Raven sitting in the corner, a computer on his lap and a black notebook in his hand.

He saw that Ling Wuwen was awake and turned to look at him.

"What's wrong?"

Raven closed the laptop.

"I need to go to Luxembourg."

Gu Xidong walked to the bedside and sat down. He took Ling Wuwen's hand.

"What's going on?"

Raven handed him the notebook and business card.

Gu Xidong took it. He looked at the text in the notebook. He looked at the address on the business card. He looked at the handwritten words on the back.

He looked up.

"Written by Ling Wufeng?"

Ling Wuwen nodded.

"He had contact with Ye Shen's lawyer. This Fedorov is likely the middleman between Black Swan and CMB. If he were alive, he could identify the beneficiary."

The raven stood up.

"I'm flying to Luxembourg tonight to find out who this law firm is managing the accounts for."

Gu Xidong looked at him.

Is it safe?

The raven did not answer.

He walked to the door and stopped.

"Take care of yourselves," he said.

"There are still reporters lying in wait downstairs. Don't let them take pictures of Ling Wuwen looking like this."

The door closed.

The ward was quiet.

Ling Wuwen looked at Gu Xidong.

"Will something happen to him?" she asked.

Gu Xidong held her hand.

"Won't."

Are you sure?

"uncertain."

She didn't ask any more questions.

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

5

8 PM.

Luxembourg. 22 Rue Beaumont.

The raven was standing across the street.

This is a small street in the old town, with cobblestone streets, gas lamps, and 19th-century buildings. Number 22 is a four-story building with gray stone, a black iron gate, and a brightly polished brass nameplate.

There were no markings on the iron gate.

He waited for twenty minutes.

At 7:50, a middle-aged man came out of the building. He was wearing a suit but no tie, and carrying a briefcase. He locked the door and walked towards the street corner.

The raven followed.

They followed him for three blocks.

The man stopped in front of a coffee shop, pushed open the door, and went inside. Raven saw him through the window as he sat by the window, ordered coffee, and opened a newspaper.

The raven pushed open the door and went inside.

He sat at the table next to the man.

I ordered a shot of espresso.

The man glanced at him, but didn't pay any attention and continued reading his newspaper.

Raven finished his coffee and paid the bill. As he passed the man, he "accidentally" knocked the man's newspaper to the ground.

"Feel sorry."

He bent down, picked up the newspaper, and handed it back.

The man nodded and took the newspaper.

The raven walked out of the coffee shop.

He walked to the street corner and turned into the alley. He took out his phone from his pocket and opened the photo he had just taken.

The man's briefcase bears the name: Feodorov & Partners.

He got the picture.

6

Two o'clock in the morning.

Raven sent Gu Xidong an encrypted message.

"Fyodorov is still alive. Contact will be made tomorrow."

Gu Xidong saw this message on a folding bed in the hospital corridor.

The screen's light illuminated his face. He put the phone back in his pocket and closed his eyes.

I didn't sleep.

Ling Wuwen turned over in the ward. The IV pump beeped. The white fluorescent light at the nurses' station at the end of the corridor hummed softly.

He opened his eyes.

There is a moon outside the window.

Curved and thin, like the first mark left by an ice skate cutting across the ice.

He looked at the moon.

long time.

7

The next afternoon.

The raven stood at the door of number 22 for the second time.

This time he rang the doorbell.

A voice came from the walkie-talkie: "Who is this?"

"From Asia. About account 7714."

silence.

The door lock is open.

He pushed the door open and went in.

The corridor was deep, and at the end was a staircase.

Red carpet, brass handrails, oil paintings on the walls—the harbor of Monaco in the 19th century.

He went upstairs.

The door was open on the second floor.

Fedorov stood at the door.

"Please come in."

The raven went in.

The office wasn't big. There was a desk, two chairs, and a bookcase on one wall.

The window faces the street, and you can see the gray stone of the building across the street.

Fedorov sat down.

The raven also sat down.

"Who are you?" Fedorov asked.

"A person who wants to find out the truth."

Fedorov smiled faintly.

"Account 7714. What do you want to know?"

"Beneficiary".

Fedorov shook his head.

"I can't say."

"Someone is already dead," said the raven.

"Gu Xidong's knees. Ling Wufeng's operating table. And much more that you and I don't know. 7714's money is used to support these."

Fedorov looked at him.

"You're a lawyer. You know what the law protects," said the raven. "But you also know what the law should protect."

Fedorov remained silent.

He stood up and walked to the window, his back to the ravens.

"My daughter is twelve years old," he said. "She goes to school in Switzerland. She's picked up and dropped off every day."

The raven didn't speak.

"If I speak up, she might not have a father anymore."

The raven stood up.

He walked over to Fedorov.

"If you don't speak up," he said, "more children will be without fathers."

Fedorov looked at him.

Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds.

He walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a document.

Place it on the table.

"This is a copy of the custody agreement for account 7714," he said. "The beneficiary's name is on page 47."

The raven reached out to take it.

Fedorov held down the file.

"I have a condition."

"explain."

"Protect my daughter."

The raven looked at him.

"I can."

Fedorov released his grip.

The raven opened the file.

Page 47.

Beneficiary's name:

Ye Shen.

He closed the file.

Raise your head.

Outside the window, the sky over Luxembourg was overcast and gray. The clouds hung low, as if it were about to snow.

8

Nine o'clock in the evening.

Beijing.

Gu Xidong's phone vibrated.

Encrypted message, from Raven.

Only two words:

"Ye Shen".

He looked at those two words.

long time.

In the ward, Ling Wuwen was asleep.

The green line on the heart rate monitor glides smoothly. The infusion pump drips softly.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window is the Beijing night.

Thousands of lights shone, and cars streamed endlessly. In the distance, tall buildings stood, their rooftop aviation obstruction lights flashing intermittently.

He put his phone back in his pocket.

He turned and walked back to the ward.

Pushing open the door, Ling Wuwen woke up.

She looked at him.

"What's wrong?"

He walked over and took her hand.

"We found him," he said.

She didn't say anything.

Just hold his hand tightly.

Outside the window, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds.

Curved and thin.

Like the mark left by an ice skating blade cutting through the ice, a mark that will never disappear.