Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

The night wind, like a sharp ice blade, swept across the city skyline.

The iron gate of the abandoned factory creaked shut behind me, isolating the world inside that was still asleep.

Ling Wuwen stood at the dark alley entrance and took a deep breath.

The cold air filled her lungs, carrying the smell of rust and snow. She raised her hand and touched her cheek.

That face seemed to soften and relax when touched.

She walked to a dimly lit streetlamp at the corner of the alley and took out a bottle of water and a towel from her black backpack.

Unscrew the water bottle and pour the water onto the towel, which emits a slight chill.

She closed her eyes and pressed the cold, damp towel heavily against her face.

It's not a simple wipe.

Rather, it is a kind of... stripping away.

When the towel was removed from her face, the woman's face, which had originally been cold and beautiful with a hint of vulnerability, had changed.

The jawline became more defined, the brow bone lines became clearer, and even the thickness of the lips seemed to have subtly changed.

That was a... youthful, dashing face.

However, a hideous burn scar running from his brow bone to his chin marred his handsome features and added a touch of ruthlessness.

She didn't look at the towel.

She simply took a neatly folded black trench coat out of her bag and put it on effortlessly.

Then, he put on a black hat pulled low and a plain black face mask.

The "Ling Wuwen" in the mirror disappeared.

Instead, she became a sophisticated urban woman who exuded an aura that kept strangers at bay.

2

She didn't take a taxi.

Instead, it blended into the city's nightscape like a ghost.

Half an hour later, she walked into the lobby of an extremely high-end 24-hour hotel in the city center.

This place is a completely different world from that abandoned ice rink filled with the smell of blood and sweat.

The crystal chandelier cast a soft glow, the expensive Persian carpet absorbed all footsteps, and a faint, luxurious fragrance filled the air.

Instead of sitting on the sofa in the lobby, she went straight to a semi-enclosed booth in the corner with excellent soundproofing.

She ordered a black coffee, no sugar, no milk.

Then, she took out a specially modified, all-black laptop.

The screen lit up, its deep blue light reflecting in her unfathomable eyes.

She put on her headphones and her fingers flew across the keyboard, typing out strings of complex code.

A few seconds later, an encrypted video call window appeared on the screen.

The opposite side was pitch black, with only a blurry image of a figure codenamed "Falcon" visible.

Connection established.

With a "beep", the call was connected.

3

"Nightingale, signal stable." A male voice, electronically altered and devoid of emotion, came through the earpiece.

"Falcon, received." Ling Wuwen replied.

Her voice was no longer the cool, aloof female voice she used when speaking to Gu Xidong; instead, it was a deliberately disguised, deep, and neutral voice, with a hint of hoarseness, like a feather brushing against the heart.

"Report on the progress."

"The prey has been initially tamed." Ling Wuwen looked out the window at the bustling traffic, his tone as calm as if he were reciting a weather forecast. "Its aggression has decreased, but its vigilance has increased. Its physical functions have recovered to 30%, but cracks have appeared in its psychological defenses, and it has begun to develop dependence on and curiosity towards me."

"Very good." Falcon's voice was devoid of emotion. "Any movement from 'Black Swan'?"

"Not yet. They think Gu Xidong is already a dead dog." Ling Wuwen's lips curled into a cold smile. "That's exactly what we want. A dog that seems dead bites the hardest."

"Next steps"

"Next month, I'll arrange for him to make a trial jump." Ling Wuwen's fingers tapped lightly on the table, a habitual gesture when she was thinking. "I want him to taste the feeling of flying again. Only by flying can we lure out those rats hiding in the shadows."

"risk assessment."

"The risks are manageable." Ling Wuwen's eyes sharpened. "Gu Xidong's talent is still there; his body remembers how to fly. As long as I pull him out of the mire, he'll be the sharpest knife."

"What if he loses control? What if he discovers your identity...?"

"If he loses control," Ling Wuwen interrupted Falcon, a ruthless glint in his eyes, "I'll personally send him back to the mire."

"As for my identity..."

She smiled.

The laughter sounded particularly eerie in the empty hotel lobby.

"I am Ling Wuwen. A vengeful person he doesn't even know, someone who wants to use him. Isn't that right?"

4

The falcon fell silent.

It seems they are assessing the veracity of her words.

"Nightingale, don't forget your mission." Falcon's voice turned serious. "Your goal is to use him to uncover the truth behind the Black Swan and find the real culprit who killed your brother. Not to play some psychological games with him."

"I know my mission." Ling Wuwen's voice turned cold. "Using him is like using a chess piece. Use it and then discard it."

"That was for the best," Falcon warned. "Gu Xidong is a smart man. Be careful not to get yourself involved while you're putting on an act for him."

"Don't worry." Ling Wuwen picked up the cup of black coffee, took a sip, and said, "My feelings for him are only hatred. If it weren't for him, my brother wouldn't have died. I won't let him die so easily. I want him to rot away slowly in despair and pain, just like my brother did back then."

"But he's still useful now."

"Therefore, I will perform this play well."

"Until...the curtain falls."

5

The call has ended.

The screen went dark.

Ling Wuwen sat in the booth, remaining motionless for a long time.

Looking out the window at the brightly lit world, a hint of weariness appeared in her eyes for the first time.

She took off her hat and rubbed her temples.

Just then, her phone, which was on the table, vibrated.

It wasn't an encrypted computer; it was her ordinary cell phone, the one she used to contact Gu Xidong.

She picked it up and took a look.

It was a multimedia message sent from an unknown number.

There are no words.

There is only one photo.

The photo was taken from an extremely discreet angle.

That was an ice rink in an abandoned factory building.

In the photo, Gu Xidong is shirtless, standing on the ice, practicing his jumping motions over and over again.

His face bore an almost obsessive intensity.

The photo was taken ten minutes ago.

Ling Wuwen's body suddenly stiffened.

Her eyes instantly turned as cold as ice.

She quickly replied with a message: "Who sent this?"

The other party replied instantly, with only a smiley face emoji.

Ling Wuwen stared at that smiling face, his knuckles turning white from the force he exerted.

She slammed her laptop shut, stood up, and strode towards the hotel door.

she knows.

The "black swan" event is not without its own story.

They've always been there.

They were like a group of rats hiding under the ruins, their bloodshot eyes fixed on the man struggling to climb out of the mud.

She was that man's only, and also his most dangerous, "protector."

She needs to speed things up.

Because the rules of the game have changed.