Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

Three o'clock in the morning.

Monaco.

Raven stood in the center of the casino square, holding the photograph of the document taken from Fedorov's office.

With the screen brightness turned down to the lowest setting, the blue light burned into two cold stars in his eyes.

The lights of the Monte Carlo Grand Casino spread out behind him. Gilded statues, crystal chandeliers, and doormen in tuxedos standing on the white stone steps.

A black Rolls-Royce pulled up at the entrance. The driver opened the door, and a leg covered in an evening gown emerged from inside.

He didn't look at it.

He stared at his phone screen.

Page 47. Beneficiary's name: Ye Shen.

But when Fedorov handed him the document, his finger lingered on page 47 for three seconds.

Then I moved it up two centimeters and tapped the small print in the header.

That was a number: WM-7714-02.

He zoomed in on the image.

WM.

He searched.

First result: William Morris. A 19th-century British designer.

The second result: Wassily Maslow, a Russian-American psychologist.

The third result: Wladimir Mikhailovich…

He stopped.

Volkov. Wladimir Mikhailovich Volkov.

Alexander Volkov's father.

Born in 1935, he was a diplomat during the Soviet era. He settled in Switzerland after 1991 and passed away in 2003.

Three years before his death, he registered an offshore trust company in Luxembourg.

Company Name: Winter Moon Investments.

Abbreviation: WM.

Raven put the phone back in its pocket.

He turned and walked toward the all-night coffee shop across from the casino.

I ordered an espresso.

When the coffee was served, he opened his laptop, connected to the cafe's public Wi-Fi, and used triple encryption to access the Red Hand server's backdoor.

Search keywords: WM, Winter Moon, Volkov.

Result: 47.

The earliest record: 2005. The Red Hand's first funds from Asia were laundered through Winter Moon and entered Swiss accounts.

The most recent one: September 2023. An encrypted communication record between Ye Shen and a high-ranking member of the Red Hand Gang, the last sentence of which is: "WM agrees to increase the bet."

He leaned back in his chair.

The café's chandelier swayed above his head.

Someone at the next table was making a phone call in Russian, speaking in a very low voice, occasionally letting out a laugh.

The raven picked up its coffee and drank it all in one gulp.

2

Four o'clock in the morning.

He dialed Gu Xidong's number.

It rang once. The call was answered.

"Ye Shen has someone behind him," he said.

Gu Xidong didn't speak. The sound of an IV pump dripping came from the other end of the phone, one drip after another.

"WM Winter Moon Investments. Registered in 2003, founded by Alexander Volkov's father. After the elder Volkov's death, the company was transferred to his son's name."

Who is Volkov?

"A Russian-born oligarch residing in Monaco. His public identities: philanthropist and art collector. His businesses: oil, natural gas, and a football club."

The raven paused.

"Dark side identity: Sports scandal collector."

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

"collector?"

"He uses dirt on people to control them. Politicians, referees, sports officials, corporate executives. Once he has something on you, you can never get away with it. Zhou Wentao's bribery records are in his hands. Chen Guodong's heart disease may not be an accident."

Gu Xidong lowered his voice: "Where's Ye Shen?"

"Ye Shen is the project manager, at the executive level. Volkov is the chairman of the board."

The café door opened. A woman in a camel coat walked in, her high heels clicking crisply on the tiles. She went to the bar and ordered a hot chocolate.

The raven lowered its voice.

"When Fedorov gave me the document, he pointed to that number: WM-7714-02. 02 represents a secondary account. Ye Shen was just the front desk; the real beneficiary was Volkov."

"evidence?"

"Red Hand Gang communications records. Kowloon Club accounts. And an internal quote, the source of which I just confirmed."

"What did you say?"

The raven paused.

"Sports is the cleanest dirty game."

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

"Volkov said it," said the raven.

"Ten years ago at a private dinner. There were three FIFA officials, two IOC members, and a man who later became the prime minister of a European country."

The IV pump beeped five times on the phone.

"Where is he?" Gu Xidong asked.

"Monaco. His main residence is located atop Monte Carlo Mountain, covering an area of ​​2,000 square meters, with a private dock and helipad."

"Is it possible to get close?"

"It will take time. His security level is ten times higher than Ye Shen's. All visitors undergo background checks, and all communications are encrypted and reviewed. I can't access his system."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

The raven looked out the window.

The casino lights bathed the sky in a pale orange hue. A silver sports car sped past on the street, its engine trailing a long, drawn-out sound in the night.

"There's one more person," he said.

"Who?"

"Ye Shen. He's still on the run. What will Volkov do if he feels Ye Shen poses a threat?"

Gu Xidong did not answer.

The raven didn't say anything either.

They all understand.

3

Seven o'clock in the morning.

Beijing.

Gu Xidong put his phone back in his pocket and pushed open the ward door.

Ling Wuwen was awake. She leaned against the headboard, looking at him.

"Whose call was that?"

"Raven."

She waited for him to continue.

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

I took her hand. Her hand was a little warmer than yesterday, and her nails had a faint pink tinge.

"There's someone behind Ye Shen," he said. "A Russian oligarch named Volkov. He lives in Monaco. Ye Shen is just a project manager he hired."

Ling Wuwen looked at him.

Three seconds. Five seconds.

"A collector," she said.

He froze for a moment.

"You know?"

"Raven mentioned this when he showed me the materials last time. A collector of sports scandals. He uses dirt on people to control them."

She paused.

"My brother also mentioned someone in his diary. He didn't write a name, only a code name: 'The Collector'."

Gu Xidong gripped her hand tightly.

"The one from 2017?"

"Hmm. The last one. It's written in Russian, which I can't understand, so I took a picture of it and had Raven translate it."

She turned to look at the bedside table.

Gu Xidong stood up and opened the drawer. A black notebook was on top. He turned to the last page.

2017 11 Month 8 Day.

Ling Wufeng wrote two lines.

First line: Surgery tomorrow.

Second line: Russian. Cyrillic alphabet, with messy strokes.

He took out his phone, took a picture, and sent it to the raven.

One minute later, the raven replied:

"If I'm gone, check 'The Collector.' He knows everything."

4

Nine o'clock in the morning.

The nurse came to check on him. She took his temperature, measured his blood pressure, and changed the IV bag. Ling Wuwen cooperated, his eyes fixed on the window.

The sun is shining brightly.

It's rare to have such a sunny day in Beijing at the end of October. The sky is a deep, almost white blue, without a single cloud.

After the nurse left, she turned to look at Gu Xidong.

"You should go for your rehabilitation training today."

He didn't speak.

"Your knee has been delayed for three months. If it continues any longer, you really won't be able to go back to the ice rink."

He looked at her.

"Can you manage alone?"

"There's a nurse."

He stood up.

I walked to the window and looked down. There were a few people strolling in the small garden downstairs—some in hospital gowns, some pushing wheelchairs, and some using crutches.

"I'm downstairs," he said. "Go for a run. Call me if you need anything."

She nodded.

He walked out of the ward.

The door closed.

Ling Wuwen stared at the ceiling.

The IV pump beeped once. Then again. Then again.

She closed her eyes.

5

3 PM.

A raven stands on the breakwater of Monaco Harbour.

The sea breeze is cold.

The Mediterranean weather at the end of October was glaringly sunny, but the wind already carried a hint of winter. Several white yachts were moored in the distance, resembling stranded seashells on the blue sea.

He held up his phone, the camera pointed at the white villa on the mountaintop.

Volkov's house.

It covers an area of ​​2,000 square meters.

The main building has three floors, including a basement. There is a helipad on the roof, where a silver Bell 429 is parked.

A 65-meter-long yacht was moored at the dock, with its name written in Cyrillic script at the stern.

"Winter Moon".

He took the photos and saved them in an encrypted folder.

My phone vibrated.

A new message. The source is anonymous, but the encryption method is consistent with the Red Hand's internal system.

He clicked on it.

"Volkov is hosting a private dinner on his yacht tonight. The guest list includes: two members of the Monaco royal family, one member of the Russian State Duma, one FIFA executive committee member, and the CEO of a European energy group."

The attachment is below.

He downloaded it.

Guest list, seating chart, menu, security layout diagram.

Last line:

"Ye Shen is not on the list. But someone saw him in Monaco three days ago at the Paris Hotel in Monte Carlo."

Raven put the phone back in its pocket.

He looked at the yacht.

It is 65 meters long, has three decks, and a helipad at the stern.

There were people moving around on the deck at that moment; crew members in white uniforms were preparing for the evening's arrangements.

He turned around.

Walk back along the breakwater.

The wind came from the sea, blowing the hem of his coat up.

6

8 PM.

The yacht was brightly lit.

The raven stood on the observation deck at the other end of the harbor, holding up binoculars.

From this angle, you can see the floor-to-ceiling windows of the yacht's main deck.

Inside the window, figures in evening gowns moved about, and champagne glasses gleamed under the lights.

He's looking for someone.

Volkov.

The telescope swept across the main deck, across the private terraces on the upper deck, and across the helipad at the stern.

No.

He put down his binoculars.

My phone vibrated.

Encrypted information.

"Volkov isn't on the yacht. He's at his hilltop villa. The yacht is just a smokescreen."

He looked up at the mountaintop.

The lights were on in the white villa. The curtains in the largest window on the second floor weren't fully drawn, letting in a warm yellow light.

He picked up the binoculars and aimed them at the window.

A figure stood in front of the window.

A middle-aged man, wearing a dark suit, holding a wine glass in his hand.

He was facing inwards, with his back to the window, talking to someone.

Volkov.

The raven watched that figure from behind.

Three seconds later, another person came into view.

He was younger, thinner, with very short hair, and wearing a gray casual suit.

He stood next to Volkov.

The two clinked glasses.

Raven adjusts focus.

The person's face became clear in the camera lens.

Ye Shen.

7

Nine o'clock in the evening.

Raven dialed Gu Xidong's number.

"Ye Shen is at the Volkov Villa."

Gu Xidong remained silent.

"The two met alone. No bodyguards were present. This is an opportunity."

"What opportunity?"

The raven paused.

"If a rift develops between them, Ye Shen could become the breakthrough point. The project manager knows more than what's written in the documents."

The sound of an IV pump dripping could be heard from the other end of the phone.

"What do you want to do?"

"I need to get close to Ye Shen. But he's hiding in Volkov's house right now, the security level is too high. I can only wait for him to come out."

"How long can we wait?"

"I don't know. Ye Shen isn't stupid. His presence in Monaco shows that he needs Volkov's protection. But he also knows that Volkov could abandon him at any time."

Gu Xidong remained silent.

The raven waited for him.

"How is Ling Wuwen doing?" Raven asked.

"Stablize."

"How long can it last?"

"have no idea."

Both of them remained silent.

The sea breeze came from the other end of the receiver, its whistling sound drowning out the dripping of the IV pump.

"Gu Xidong," said the raven.

"Um."

Do you believe me?

"letter."

"Then I'll tell you something."

"explain."

"Volkov has a list. It's a list of everyone he controls. Politicians, referees, officials, athletes. Ling Wufeng's name is on it. So is yours."

Gu Xidong remained silent.

"That list is evidence. It's also a weapon. With it, we can destroy Volkov."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Maybe in Monaco, maybe in Switzerland, maybe somewhere only Volkov knows."

The raven paused.

"But Ye Shen knows."

8

One o'clock in the morning.

Ling Wuwen opened his eyes.

The ward was dark. Only the green light from the monitor was flashing. She turned to look at the bedside; the plastic chair was empty.

She looked towards the doorway.

The door was ajar. Light from the corridor shone through the crack.

She pressed the call button.

The nurse pushed the door open and came in.

"Where are the others?"

The nurse glanced down the corridor.

"On the folded bed. Just fell asleep."

Ling Wuwen nodded.

The nurse left.

She looked at the ceiling.

The IV pump beeped once. Then again. Then again.

She closed her eyes.

But she didn't sleep.

She is waiting.

Wait until dawn.

Gu Xidong pushed the door open and came in.

The moment she can still recognize him.

9

Four o'clock in the morning.

The raven was still standing on the observation deck.

The wind grew colder. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and held the binoculars to his eyes. Most of the lights in the hilltop villa were off, except for the one on the second floor.

Ye Shen is still inside.

He saw two figures moving near the window. They were talking. Their gestures were intense. Then one of them left the window, while the other remained standing.

Volkov.

He stood alone by the window.

The raven stared at the figure. For a long time.

Then he saw Volkov pick up the phone.

dial.

lay down.

Three minutes later, two black SUVs drove out from downstairs at the villa.

The car headlights traced two arcs on the winding mountain road before disappearing into the night.

Ye Shen is gone.

The raven lowered its binoculars.

He glanced at the time. 4:17.

He turned and walked back along the breakwater.

The wind billowed his coat.

My phone vibrated.

Encrypted information.

Ye Shen has left Monaco. His whereabouts are unknown.

He looked at the line of text.

Heading towards the end of the port.