Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

Monaco.

The summit of Monte Carlo.

December 29th. 7 PM.

A black Mercedes drove through the cast-iron gate. The wheels crunched over the gravel road.

The driveway is lined with neatly trimmed cypress trees, and security guards in black suits stand under each tree.

Ling Wuwen sat in the back row.

Black evening gown. Backless design, with rhinestones adorning the collarbone area.

The diamond necklace hung down her chest, each one real—a prop left behind by the previous "Anna," which Raven had taken from the safe in the safe house.

She looked out the window.

The villa was brightly lit. The three-story main building had warm yellow light shining through its floor-to-ceiling windows.

There were more than twenty cars parked in front of the gate: Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, Ferraris, and two black sedans with diplomatic license plates.

The car stopped.

The driver got out of the car and opened the door.

She took a deep breath.

She lifted the hem of her skirt.

Step onto the gravel ground.

A cool, salty breeze blew in from the sea. Tiny bumps appeared on her bare shoulders. She didn't flinch.

Walk up the steps.

The gate was wide open.

Inside the door stood the butler, a man in his sixties, dressed in a tailcoat, with his silver hair combed back and his face expressionless.

"Miss Anna," he said with a slight bow, "Welcome."

She nodded.

Go inside.

2

The hall was bigger than she remembered.

A crystal chandelier hangs from the three-story-high ceiling, each crystal refracting a delicate shimmer of light.

An oil painting hangs on the wall—not Monet's "Water Lilies," but another one, a ball scene by Renoir. In the corner, a string quartet is playing Mozart.

More than thirty guests have already arrived.

Ladies in evening gowns gathered in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, chatting, their champagne glasses gleaming under the lights.

The men in suits stood in front of the fireplace, discussing something, occasionally letting out low laughter.

She walked through the crowd.

People nodded to her along the way. She didn't know them. They didn't know her either.

But the name "Anna" on the invitation, on the list, and in this circle means that you can smile, nod, and brush past each other.

She walked up to the bar counter.

Pick up a glass of champagne.

I didn't drink it.

Turn around.

Look around the hall.

Where is Volkov?

She scanned every face. There were no gray-blue eyes, no silver hair, no white handkerchief in the left breast pocket.

A waiter walked by.

She called out to him.

"Where is Mr. Volkov?"

The waiter bowed slightly.

"The gentleman is at the ice rink. The banquet program will begin shortly."

Ice rink?

She put down her champagne glass.

Follow the direction the crowd is moving.

3

Walk through the corridor.

Pass through the second hall.

Pass through a double oak door.

The ice rink unfolded before my eyes.

It's not outdoors. It's indoors. Built in the west wing of the villa, it's a complete, standard ice rink.

The stands were surrounded by a row of spectators, which could seat two hundred people. At that moment, the stands were full of guests, and the air was filled with the buzzing of conversation.

Eight people were standing on the ice.

Ice acrobats in silver costumes. Four men and four women, each holding ribbons and hoops of fire.

A spotlight hangs above the center of the ice rink.

The light shines on one spot.

It's not ice.

It's the very front row of the stands.

There was a wheelchair parked there.

An elderly man was sitting in a wheelchair.

He was over seventy years old. His silver hair was neatly combed, not a single strand out of place. He wore a dark gray suit, with a white handkerchief tucked into his left breast pocket.

Her hands were folded on her knees, and she wore a silver ring on her right thumb.

He turned his head.

Look towards the entrance.

Look at her.

Ling Wuwen stood still.

Thirty meters apart. Separated by the crowd. Separated by the cold light reflected from the ice rink.

His eyes were grayish-blue.

Sharp as an eagle.

She didn't look away.

He was looking at her too.

three seconds.

He nodded slightly.

A slight smile curved the corners of her lips.

4

She sat down next to him.

The second row. Directly facing his wheelchair. Two meters away.

He didn't turn to look at her.

Their gaze fell upon the ice rink.

The ice acrobatics began.

The first couple glided into the center of the arena. The man lifted the woman, who spun in mid-air, her ribbon tracing a red arc. They landed, glided, and were lifted up again.

The applause was sparse.

Volkov did not applaud.

His fingers tapped lightly on his knee. Once, twice, three times. The rhythm was steady, like counting beats.

Ling Wuwen looked at the ice surface.

The second team entered. The ring of fire was lit, and the woman walked through it, her skirt sweeping across the ice as she landed, sending up tiny ice shards.

She thought of Gu Xidong.

I remember that afternoon when he landed a quadruple Axel in the middle of the ice rink.

There was no music, only the sound of ice skates cutting through the ice. There was no applause, only silence. Then he pointed a single finger at the camera.

"This is what figure skating should be like."

She closed her eyes.

three seconds.

Open your eyes.

Volkov was looking at her.

"Miss Anna doesn't like ice acrobatics?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible amidst the quartet and applause. He spoke with a Russian accent, pronouncing each word precisely.

She looked at him.

"like."

"Then why did you close your eyes?"

She paused.

"Thinking of someone."

He nodded.

Our gaze returns to the ice surface.

"I often think about someone too."

5

The ice acrobatics performance has ended.

The applause was louder than before. Volkov raised his hand and clapped twice lightly. The silver ring gleamed in the light.

He turned to look at the butler beside him.

The butler possessed him.

"gentlemen?"

"Please have Miss Anna come here."

The butler nodded.

I walked up to her.

"Miss Anna, Mr. Volkov requests your presence."

She stood up.

Follow the butler to the first row.

Volkov raised his hand, gesturing for her to sit in the empty chair next to him.

She sat down.

He looked at the ice.

The ice rink is being re-iced. Hot water is being poured onto the old ice, and steam is rising.

Workers slowly pushed the ice-pouring cart past, leaving behind a smooth, mirror-like expanse of new ice.

"Do you know why someone would build an ice rink in a private villa?"

She shook her head.

He remained silent for three seconds.

"Because I was a figure skater when I was young."

She turned to look at him.

He didn't look at her.

"In 1959, at the Soviet Youth Championship, I was sixteen and came in fourth place. The top three teams all went on to play for the national team. I stayed at the club as a coach."

He paused.

"Later I discovered that skating wasn't my talent. My talent was something else."

He turned his head.

Look at her.

There was no warmth in his gray-blue eyes.

"Do you know what it is?"

She didn't say anything.

Women's eyesight.

three seconds.

"It depends on the person."

6

The ice rink is now watered.

The new ice surface gleamed coldly under the lights. A woman in a white performance costume glided into the center of the arena. A violin solo began.

Volkov looked at the ice.

"Miss Anna."

"Um?"

How is your father doing lately?

Her heart skipped a beat.

"very good."

He nodded.

"Please give him my regards. I'll always remember that donation from 2014."

She didn't say anything.

He looked at the ice.

The woman spun on the ice. One lap, two laps, three laps. The speed increased, and her skirt billowed out into a white disc.

Did he repay that money later?

She looked at him.

"I don't know."

He smiled.

It's very light.

"It's okay. I'm not trying to collect a debt."

He paused.

"I'm just reminding you."

The spin ended. The woman knelt on the ice, arms outstretched, head bowed. Applause erupted.

Volkov raised his hand.

I patted it lightly twice.

7

The banquet continued.

After the ice show ended, the guests returned to the main hall. Champagne continued to flow, and conversations continued to hum.

Ling Wuwen stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window is the Mediterranean night view. Moonlight spreads a narrow silver path across the sea. In the distance, the lights of several yachts flicker.

"Miss Anna."

She turned around.

Volkov's butler stood behind him.

"The gentleman requests your presence in his study. He wishes to speak with you privately."

She looked at him.

three seconds.

"Now?"

"Now."

She put down her champagne glass.

Follow the butler through the corridor.

The first room. The second room.

The study door was open.

The butler stepped aside.

She went inside.

8

Volkov sat behind his desk.

The wheelchair was replaced with an ordinary chair. A glass of whiskey sat in front of him, the amber liquid shimmering under the light.

He raised his hand.

"Please sit down."

She sat down opposite him.

Women's eyesight.

"Miss Anna."

"Um."

"Or rather—"

He paused.

"Miss Ling Wuwen."

She didn't move.

Stand still.

Hands hanging at the sides.

Women's eyesight.

Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds.

"You are very calm," he said.

She didn't say anything.

He picked up his whiskey and took a sip.

lay down.

"From the very first second you stepped into this villa, I knew who you were."

She looked at him.

"Then why don't you expose me?"

He smiled.

"Because I want to know what you've come for."

He leaned back in his chair.

My fingers tapped lightly on the table. Once, twice, three times.

"You got the USB drive. But it's useless. Without the key, it's just a piece of black plastic."

She took a USB drive out of her pocket.

Place it on the table.

He looked at the small black object.

"You're very smart. You know to pay it back."

He picked up the USB drive and put it in the drawer.

Lock it.

Look up at her.

"Now, we can really talk."

9

She looked at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's talk about a deal."

He picked up his whiskey and took another sip.

"What do you want? A list? Evidence? Volkov's criminal record?"

She didn't say anything.

He put down the cup.

"I can give it to you."

She looked at him.

"condition?"

He nodded.

"condition."

He stood up.

I walked to the window.

He had his back to her.

"Ling Wufeng is the cleanest athlete I've ever met. In 2017, he refused my offer to collaborate. I said that if he agreed, I could help him win the world championship. He said—"

He paused.

He said the champion should be clean.

The sea outside the window was dark and gloomy. The moonlight was obscured by clouds, with only a few lights of yachts in the distance visible.

"I respect him," Volkov said, "so I let him die on the operating table."

Ling Wuwen stood still.

Clench your fists tightly.

The fingernails dug into the palm.

Volkov turned around.

Look at her.

"You want revenge. I know. But revenge won't solve anything."

He walked back to his desk.

sit down.

"I can give you a list. The names of three hundred people. Politicians, referees, officials, athletes. How they take money, how they do their jobs, how they are under my control. Everything."

She looked at him.

"What are the conditions?"

He looked at her.

three seconds.

"Work with me."

10

She didn't say anything.

Women's eyesight.

"You have three months to live. I know. Director Wang told me."

He paused.

"Three months is enough time to do a lot of things. Or you can do nothing at all."

She squeezed out two words through gritted teeth.

"What kind of cooperation?"

He stood up.

I walked up to her.

He looked down at her.

"Ling Wufeng's body contains the gene sequence I need. You have a part of him. The transplanted brain tissue contains his memories and his DNA."

She took a step back.

He didn't move.

"I need your blood sample. Bone marrow sample. Cerebrospinal fluid sample. If we can figure it out, maybe we can find ways to extend lifespan. Yours, someone else's."

She looked at him.

There was no warmth in his gray-blue eyes.

"Please consider it."

He turned around.

I walked towards the door.

My hand is on the doorknob.

Stop.

"Oh, right."

He turned around.

"That figure skater, Gu Xidong. He should be in the jungles of Malaysia right now. Ye Shen is waiting for him there."

Her heart tightened.

"The order Ye Shen received was—"

He paused.

"Kill without mercy."

The door opened.

He went outside.

The door closed.

She stood still.

long time.

11

One o'clock in the morning.

Safe house.

Ling Wuwen pushed open the door.

The raven looked up from in front of the computer.

Look at her.

"He knows."

She nodded.

The ravens remained silent.

three seconds.

"Over there with Gu Xidong—"

She interrupted him.

"Have you made contact?"

The raven shook its head.

"There's no signal in the jungle. They moved out at four in the morning."

She walked to the window.

Outside the window, the lights of Monte Carlo were still twinkling. Casinos, yachts, hotels, villas.

He said Ye Shen's orders were to kill without mercy.

The raven stood up.

Walk up to her.

"Did Volkov tell you that?"

She nodded.

He looked at her profile.

"You believe him?"

She didn't answer.

The sea outside the window was dark and gloomy.

The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, spreading a narrow silver path across the sea.

That road leads east.

Towards Malaysia.

Leading to that jungle she couldn't see.