Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

Five o'clock in the morning.

The abandoned factory was shrouded in a gray-white mist.

Last night's thrilling standoff felt like a nightmare.

Those mysterious figures, like a tide, crashed open the door, flashed bright lights, and then mysteriously retreated.

There was no attack.

No arrests were made.

It's like a meticulously rehearsed silent film designed to intimidate.

Ling Wuwen and Gu Xidong stood under the glaring lights for an entire night.

They resemble two sculptures.

As dawn broke and the fog rolled in, the lights of the cars went out one by one, and the cars started up and drove away silently.

The ruins returned to deathly silence.

But that deathly silence has changed its flavor.

An invisible smell of gunpowder permeated the air.

Gu Xidong stood at the entrance of the ice rink, looking at Ling Wuwen.

His eyes were as cold as ice.

He didn't ask "Who are you?"

They didn't ask "who they are".

He is waiting.

Wait for her to speak.

Ling Wuwen did not look at him.

She simply packed her things in silence.

Her movements were slow and steady, as if the female warrior who threw ice spikes in the darkness last night was just an illusion.

2

She walked to the parking lot.

Her old SUV, which she had driven for three years, was parked there all alone.

There were no scratches on the car body.

There was no paint splashing on it.

It looks perfectly intact.

But she knew that this was just an illusion.

She opened the car door.

A chill swept over me.

On the driver's seat was a black package without any markings.

The package was tied with white cotton thread.

It resembles a small, menacing cross.

Ling Wuwen looked at the package.

Her heart sank.

She didn't touch it right away.

She took out a pair of rubber gloves from her bag and slowly put them on.

Then, she picked up the package.

It's very light.

She untied the cotton thread.

Open a corner of the package.

The contents inside fell out.

It is a women's sports jacket.

That was what she wore during training the day before yesterday.

At this moment, the coat was cut into tiny pieces.

It's not a simple cut.

It's the kind of destruction that's extremely malicious, cutting the fabric inch by inch into strips.

It's like slowly torturing a piece of clothing.

She flipped through it again.

There were also her sweatpants that she had changed out of a few days ago.

And her hat.

Her gloves.

All the items she left behind in these ruins, items that carried her scent.

They were all cut into pieces.

They were neatly stacked inside.

On top of that pile of rags, there was a white strip of paper.

There were no fingerprints on the note.

Only one line of text was printed in red ink:

"Stay away from him, or next time he'll be the one cutting you up."

No signature.

But that cold, malicious aura wafted over through those words.

It's that "black swan".

It's that viewer hiding behind the screen.

He was telling her, "I can have your things anytime. I can enter your territory anytime. I can...destroy you anytime."

This is a blatant and cruel threat.

It is also a perverse ritual for asserting sovereignty.

3

Ling Wuwen sat in the driver's seat.

She looked at the pile of rags on the passenger seat.

Looking at that blood-red note.

There was not a trace of fear on her face.

There was no anger.

There was no trembling.

She just sat quietly.

I sat there for a full hour.

Until the sun rose, golden sunlight streamed through the car window and shone on her pale face.

She suddenly laughed.

It was a very light, cold smile with a hint of cruelty.

She picked up her phone.

Found an encrypted number.

The call was made.

The phone rang for a long time before it was answered.

A deep, hoarse male voice came from the receiver:

"So early? Did you mess things up?"

That was the sound of the "Falcon".

He was her only and last contact.

Ling Wuwen looked out the window.

Gu Xidong was still standing at the entrance of the ice rink.

He stared at her coldly.

She pressed the speakerphone button.

Then, in a tone she had never used before, cold and resolute, she said:

"Plan A, terminated."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Falcon seemed surprised.

"Are you sure? If Plan A is terminated, it means..."

"It means we admit that we can't bring a dead person back to life through 'reform' and 'training,'" Ling Wuwen interrupted him. "It also means that we can't take revenge through 'gentle' means."

She looked at Gu Xidong, her eyes devoid of any warmth.

"Prepare Plan B."

The falcon's voice turned serious:

"Plan B is a do-or-die situation. It's a one-way street. Once it's started, there's no turning back."

"I don't need to turn back."

Ling Wuwen's hand was tightly gripping the note.

The red ink seemed to have seeped into her skin.

"Since they want to play."

"Then I'll play a bigger game with them."

"Tell 'Black Swan' that he wants a 'horror movie,' and I'll make it for him right away."

"I will make him... never forget this."

After saying that, she hung up the phone.

She stared at her phone screen until it went black.

She did not delete the call log.

There was no phone hidden.

She simply and casually placed it on the passenger seat.

It was placed next to that pile of rags.

4

The car door was opened.

Gu Xidong sat down.

He was not sitting in the passenger seat.

He sat in the passenger seat next to the driver.

He closed the car door.

The cramped carriage instantly felt crowded and oppressive.

He didn't look at her.

His gaze fell on the pile of rags on the passenger seat.

It landed on that blood-red note.

His eyes were unfathomable.

It is an ancient well.

He reached out and picked up the note.

I looked at the words on it.

Then, he turned his head and looked at Ling Wuwen.

His voice was deep and hoarse, carrying a calm that had been suppressed for too long, like the calm before a volcanic eruption:

"Who is threatening you?"

He paused.

His gaze was like a knife, scraping across her face.

"Or rather..."

"Who are you asking about, and what are you looking for here?"