Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

The fire went out.

The "burning of the city" fire summoned by Gu Xidong left a strong and pungent smell of burning in the ruins.

Ling Wuwen slumped onto the cold floor.

Beneath her was a pool of murky water.

She remained motionless.

Her body was as cold as ice.

No, it's colder than ice.

It was a chill that emanated from the very marrow of the body, flowing through the blood and freezing every nerve.

She was still clutching the lighter tightly in her hand.

That lighter she had prepared to "go down with her," to ignite this final fire.

Now, it felt cold and heavy, the textured metal shell digging into her palm like a lifeless tombstone.

She looked at what was in front of her.

That old-fashioned television set had been reduced to a pile of scrap metal emitting wisps of smoke.

The screen shattered into a spiderweb, spreading haphazardly, just like her fragmented state of mind at that moment.

The tape that recorded the truth has been reduced to ashes and can never be recovered.

everything is over.

Just like all her persistence, hatred, and self-pity over the past three years, all turned to ashes with that fire.

2

Her mind was blank.

Countless images collided wildly, weaving together into an impenetrable net that trapped her tightly.

Ling Wufeng's older brother's face always carried a sunny smile—

On the eve of the competition, under the dim streetlights, he patted her shoulder, his eyes bright, and said in a relaxed tone, "Wen, when your brother wins the gold medal, I'll take you to eat your favorite strawberry cake, the biggest one."

After falling on the field, he forced a bitter smile at the camera while enduring the pain, but his eyes gently swept over the audience, as if silently saying, "Don't worry, I'm fine, you have to take care of yourself."

The final image freezes on the moment of impact, a look of relief that shows no fear of death, only a resolute determination bordering on tragic.

Gu Xidong's confident glance back on the ice rink—

At that time, he only had the desire for victory and the yearning for the future in his eyes. He seemed to be surrounded by a golden halo, completely unaware of the cruel fate hidden behind him, unaware that he was about to become the target of a huge conspiracy, and unaware that the boy he regarded as his opponent was taking a bullet for him with his life.

Ling Wufeng crashed into the ground with the resolute force of a cannonball—

It wasn't driven by hatred, nor by the pursuit of a gold medal, but by a sacrifice of love. It was about using one's young life to build a flesh and blood barrier for a close friend, shielding them from deadly danger.

Gu Xidong's horrific broken and twisted leg—

That was not "deserved punishment" or "evil begets evil," but rather an undeserved calamity suffered by the innocent, the price his brother paid for "living on" with his life, and the heavy cross he had to bear after his glory and dreams were crushed in an instant.

The crisp sound of Ling Wufeng's head hitting the ice—

This sound, which once echoed repeatedly in her nightmares and which she interpreted as a sense of satisfaction from "evil getting its just desserts," has now become a torment to her conscience. Each time it rings, it carves an unhealable crack in her heart, reminding her of her foolishness and cruelty.

blood.

Vast amounts of blood.

The blood was bright red and warm.

The blood stains the pristine white ice surface, turning that stage, a symbol of purity and dreams, into a battlefield of carnage.

It also stained her life for those three years, causing her to sink deeper and deeper into the mire of hatred, unable to extricate herself.

She always thought so.

She came for revenge.

She came to judge the murderer who killed her brother.

She thought Gu Xidong was a devil.

He's that cold-blooded animal who, for the sake of a gold medal, didn't hesitate to kill his teammates and climb over corpses to get ahead.

Therefore, she used the alias Ling Wuwen.

She approached him.

She took advantage of him.

Like a self-righteous director, she manipulated his life, pushing him step by step into the abyss of depravity.

She thought she was punishing him.

She was making him wish he were dead.

She reveled in the thrill of this "control," viewing his suffering as her spoils and his downfall as her victory.

But now.

Gu Xidong's hoarse, tearful voice still echoed in her ears.

"Your brother came to see me... Someone wants to kill me on the field... Either with my life, or with his..."

"He traded his life for my worthless one."

original.

Gu Xidong is not the murderer.

He is not the demon lurking in the shadows.

He was the most innocent person who was sacrificed.

He was the one who carried the blood of his best friend and the infamy of "killing his teammates," and eked out a living for three years.

And she.

She is the so-called "Avenger".

For the past three years, she has been wielding her ridiculous "sword of justice" against an equally innocent victim.

She treated his pain as her own trophy.

They took his downfall as their own victory.

She stabbed his already wounded heart for another three years, nailing him to the pillar of shame with misunderstanding and hatred, leaving him unable to move.

Her "revenge" was not a just trial, but a brutal second murder that lasted three years.

It murdered the last remaining dignity and hope of an innocent person, and also murdered its own conscience and future.

3

Regret, like a black tide, surged in from all directions, completely engulfing her.

She recalled every detail of the past three years, and those "revenge" methods she had once been so proud of now felt like slaps to herself.

Before his match, she casually mentioned her brother's name in his ear, watching the pain and struggle instantly well up in his eyes. In her heart, she sneered: "See, this is the retribution you deserve. You'll never escape the shadow of my brother."

She deliberately leaked his negative news to those media outlets that thrive on chaos, watching him go from being the beloved ice prince to a universally despised "scumbag," and seeing him trampled underfoot by the world. She felt a twisted, morbid pleasure.

Even after he broke his leg, she watched him hobble along the deserted streets on crutches, thinking to herself, "This is the price you pay for killing my brother. You can only live like this, living in pain and regret."

But now she realizes that the difficulty of every step he took was not only physical pain, but also the weight of his dearest friend's death and the loneliness of being misunderstood by her and scorned by the world.

She recalled his occasional moments of vulnerability—drunk in a bar late at night, clutching a bottle of liquor, his eyes vacant, mumbling, "Wu Feng, I'm sorry, I didn't protect you"; and the fleeting look in his eyes when she deliberately provoked him, not anger, but a deep despair and helplessness, as if to say, "Do whatever you want to me, I deserve to die anyway."

She took all of this as evidence of his "guilt," but now she realizes that it was the unspeakable pain of the survivor, the lament of him struggling alone in the darkness, carrying the secret of two people.

She remembered her brother's dying words: "You must hate Gu Xidong... Only in this way can he live."

She always believed that her brother was urging her to take revenge, to use hatred to drive her to punish the "murderer".

But now she understands that it wasn't an "order for revenge," but a "lie of protection."

Her brother used "hatred" as a shield, wanting to keep her away from the vortex of danger, wanting her to remain clear-headed and strong amidst hatred, so that she could protect the person who truly needed protection.

But she turned that shield into a spear aimed at the person she was protecting, personally pushing the person her brother wanted to protect into an abyss of no return.

She recalled the deep weariness and despair in Gu Xidong's eyes when he handed her the lighter earlier—

That wasn't the madness of "mutual destruction," but rather the abandonment of "the truth is out, and living is meaningless." After carrying a heavy secret for three years, he finally found a way out, preferring to turn to ashes in the flames rather than endure this boundless pain any longer.

She almost ended the life of another innocent person with her own hands, and also ended the "survival" that her brother had bought with his life.

Regret, like thorny vines, tightly coiled around her heart, tightening and digging into her flesh, causing her so much pain that she could barely breathe, and even her breath tasted of blood.

She opened her mouth, wanting to cry, wanting to scream, wanting to vent all the grievances, pain and regret of the past three years, but she couldn't make a sound.

Tears fell like beads from a broken string, large drops landing on the back of my hand.

Just like her life these past three years, it has been shattered by lies and misunderstandings, and can never be restored to its original state. She can never return to being that innocent little girl who believed her brother would win the gold medal.

4

Gu Xidong sat not far from her.

He leaned against the cold wall, the old wound on his broken leg throbbing with a familiar dull pain, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness and exhaustion in his heart.

He looked at Ling Wuwen's trembling shoulders and the tears that silently streamed down her face, without saying a word or moving.

He knew that at this moment, any words would be pale and unable to soothe this enormous wound.

He himself had also struggled in the mire of pain for three years.

Three years ago, he watched helplessly as Ling Wufeng collapsed in front of him, saw the blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, and watched his eyes gradually lose focus. That sense of powerlessness and despair gnawed at him like a venomous snake for three years, never stopping.

Over the past three years, he has transformed himself into a "scumbag," not to shirk responsibility, but to survive.

In order to keep the silent promise with Ling Wufeng, to protect Ling Wuwen from being dragged into danger, and to prevent the ruthless masterminds behind the scenes from suspecting that he was still alive and knew something.

He deliberately drank alcohol, making himself suffer from a persistent hangover; he deliberately fought, making himself appear rude and uncouth; he deliberately made himself seem worthless, so that everyone would think he was a useless person.

He endured everyone's scorn and contempt, and suffered the pain of shattered dreams, all just to survive and eke out a living in this shadow.

He thought that as long as he was "bad" enough, those people would let him go and let Ling Wuwen go.

But he was wrong.

Not only did he fail to protect Ling Wuwen, he also plunged her into a vortex of hatred, turning her into a "ghost" with only revenge in her eyes, almost destroying herself with her own hands.

He looked at the lighter clutched tightly in Ling Wuwen's hand, recalling how he had just handed it to him—

At that moment, he truly wanted to be free, to escape from this endless pain, self-blame, and pretense.

But when he saw the unfathomable regret in Ling Wufeng's eyes, he suddenly realized that neither of them were the winners in this tragedy, nor were they even the perpetrators.

They both lost their loved ones, both carried heavy secrets, and both struggled alone in the darkness for three years; they were two equally pitiful survivors.

Silence spread through the ruins, more suffocating than the sea of ​​fire just moments before, filled with sorrow and heaviness.

5

I don't know how much time passed.

It may be just a moment, or it may be as long as a century.

Ling Wuwen finally raised his head.

Her eyes were red and swollen, bloodshot, yet surprisingly bright.

There, no longer was burning hatred, no longer was there bewildered pain, but rather a faint flame that seemed to reignite from ashes, carrying a weariness of surviving a catastrophe, and even more so, a resolute determination.

She looked at Gu Xidong, her voice hoarse and choked with sobs, yet unusually clear: "I'm sorry."

Gu Xidong was taken aback, then a bitter smile appeared on his lips as he shook his head: "No need to apologize. We were both wrong. We've both become pawns on someone else's chessboard, hurting each other for three years."

"No," Ling Wuwen shook his head forcefully, tears streaming down his face again, but his eyes remained unwavering. "It was my fault. I ruined you for three years, and I made my brother's sacrifice meaningless. I almost became an accomplice to those behind-the-scenes manipulators."

She supported herself on the ground and slowly stood up. Although her legs were numb from sitting for a long time, she stood very steadily.

She walked up to Gu Xidong, bent down, and extended her hand. That hand, which had just been clutching a lighter that threatened to destroy everything, now carried an invitation, a promise, and a determination to fight side by side.

"But my brother's sacrifice cannot be in vain."

"Your suffering shouldn't have been in vain."

"Those who hide in the shadows, those masterminds who orchestrated everything, cannot be allowed to go unpunished and continue to harm people."

Gu Xidong looked at her outstretched hand, which was trembling slightly but carried an undeniable power.

He was silent for a moment, then slowly extended his hand.

Two hands clasped tightly together amidst the ashes of the ruins.

There are no words, yet a thousand words are spoken.

It was a promise, a new beginning, a pact made by two broken souls amidst the ruins.

They all knew that from this moment on, their goal had changed.

It is no longer about revenge, no longer about destruction.

Instead, it's about revealing the truth and upholding justice.

Protect the "survival" that Ling Wufeng paid with his life, protect their own tainted lives, and protect the innocent who may become the next "Gu Xidong" or "Ling Wufeng".

6

Outside the ruins, the sky gradually brightened.

Ling Wuwen looked at the lighter in his hand, his eyes becoming more resolute than ever before: "This cannot be used for destruction. It must be used to ignite the truth, to ignite the darkness that has been concealed."

Gu Xidong nodded, and with her help, he stood up, supporting himself against the wall. Although the sharp pain from his broken leg made him frown, he straightened his back, his eyes sharp as ice.

"We need to find the competition records from that year, those unusual statistics, and those staff members who knew about it but dared not speak out. We need to find them and find the evidence."

I have a USB drive.

Ling Wuwen pulled out the USB drive from her pocket; its edges were burned and curled, leaving only half of it. It still bore traces of kerosene and her fingerprints.

"When I came to look for the video recording today, I found it under the old control panel. It should be related to the game from back then, and there might be backup data."

Gu Xidong's eyes sharpened as he took the heavy USB drive, as if accepting a weighty hope:

"Okay. I know a few of the technicians from that competition; they might still have some private records. We'll split up, but be careful. Those people are definitely still watching everyone who might know, including us."

"Okay." Ling Wuwen nodded, carefully placing the lighter into his pocket, as if carrying a promise made with his life.

"I'll have someone crack the contents of the USB drive. Be careful, don't let them find out you already know."

As the two emerged from the ruins, the cool morning breeze, carrying the scent of earth and grass, refreshed their minds.

The path they are about to take is destined to be full of danger and unknowns.

But this time, they were not alone.

Above the ashes, a new story has just begun.