Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

At 4:50 a.m., on the outer ring expressway of City A.

Gu Xidong sped his gray sedan to 150 kilometers per hour. In his rearview mirror, five black SUVs were right behind him—they had collided with him as soon as they left the sports center.

He obtained the light log, but the building's security alarms were remotely activated during the evacuation. Someone had predicted he would go.

He swerved the steering wheel and drove into the abandoned industrial area.

The pursuers were close behind, with the nearest vehicle approaching within fifty meters.

His phone suddenly vibrated, and the screen displayed the Swiss country code +41. He answered on speakerphone.

"Mr. Gu," the woman's voice had a European accent.

"Five vehicles, twelve men, all equipped with stun guns and tranquilizer darts. The order is to capture you alive."

"Who are you?"

"Call me Raven. I was Ling Wuwen's fellow patient in Germany, and also a close friend of her deceased sister."

Gu Xidong's heart tightened: "What do you want to say?"

"Turn right at the third intersection; there's an unloading lane at the abandoned logistics center. I can remotely close the fireproof roller shutters to keep them out."

Why should I believe you?

"Because of the scar on the outside of your right calf. You were cut by an ice skate when you were thirteen, needed seven stitches, and cried from the pain the day the stitches were removed. Ling Wufeng used a month's allowance to buy you a game console as a 'consolation prize'—only the two of you know this."

Gu Xidong's breathing stopped. It was a secret they had kept from the team doctor—they had sneaked away to a small clinic for treatment.

"Ling Wuwen was in so much pain in her hospital room in Germany that she couldn't sleep, so she talked about things from your childhood. She said you were afraid of pain, that your left shoulder was always two degrees lower than your right, and that you promised her brother you would win an Olympic gold medal."

The intersection ahead is approaching. The outline of the soldier's helmet is clearly visible in the rearview mirror.

There's no time left.

Gu Xidong turned right and rushed into the logistics center, his vehicle crashing through the pallets and hurtling deeper into the center.

The roller shutter door crashed down, shutting out the pursuers.

He slammed on the brakes, his back soaked with cold sweat.

"There's a motorcycle on the east side, the key is under the seat. Going back to the main road via the side road on the west side will buy us ten minutes," Raven continued.

Why did you help me?

"Ling Wuwen's sister's bone marrow sample saved my life. I survived, she didn't." Raven paused. "And the Black Swan ruined my life too."

With the engine roaring, Gu Xidong put on his helmet: "How is she?"

"Alive," the raven whispered, "but it hurts. Physically, emotionally. Don't keep her waiting too long."

The phone call ended. The motorcycle pierced the pre-dawn chill like an arrow.

Alive.

This is enough.

2

At 5:20, the abandoned ice rink.

Gu Xidong stood before the charred ruins, the ice rink he had spent three months rebuilding now burned into a black hole.

The steel beams of the roof were twisted like animal bones, and the molten glass had solidified into black tear stains. The air was filled with the acrid smell of burning and melting ice.

A letter was found in the ashes.

The white envelope, weighed down by charcoal bricks, stood out starkly against the blackened surface. He walked over; the bricks were hot to the touch, while the envelope was icy cold.

Open it, and there's a photo of my mother—

She was in the nursing home, clutching an old rag doll, her eyes vacant. The timestamp showed 4:30 this morning. The printed words were like knives:

"Last chance. Leave her. Otherwise, next time it won't be the ice rink that burns down."

The signature is a broken black wing—Black Swan.

Gu Xidong held the photo and smiled calmly.

Tear it apart.

The scraps of paper drifted in the morning breeze, like a black snowfall.

He gripped the letter, ready to tear it.

"Gu Xidong."

Turning around, Ling Wuwen sat in a wheelchair, his face as pale as paper, his abdomen wrapped in bandages, and he was wearing Dr. Schmidt's black coat.

The morning breeze ruffled her hair, revealing a pair of unfathomable eyes.

"An ultimatum?" she asked.

"Hmm. You want me to leave you, or you'll be the one burned next."

She pushed her wheelchair over the ashes and stopped in front of him: "What do you think?"

Gu Xidong looked at her—

This face that bears the weight of two lives, these eyes burning with unwavering determination, this soul more tenacious than anyone else.

"Three years ago, standing on the Olympic trials stage, I felt that skating was a dream and an honor," he said softly. "After the wind died, it became a curse."

"Then you came. You dug me out of the rubble and forced me to face the truth. You made me hurt, you broke me down, and then you pieced me back together."

He took a deep breath and tore the letter to shreds.

"Now, skating is a knife. A knife of revenge, a knife that nails those scum to the pillar of shame."

He leaned down, placed his hands on the armrests of the wheelchair, and looked at her straight ahead.

"Ling Wuwen, it's time to upgrade our cooperation."

How do I upgrade?

"Before, you were my therapist, and I was your patient." He reached out and gently brushed the stray hairs from her forehead.

"Now, I want you to be my partner. My partner, standing on the ice rink, facing those people, and dancing the dance with me."

Ling Wuwen smiled.

That was the first time she smiled genuinely, a smile as faint as dawn, yet it illuminated all the darkness.

"good."

She raised her pale hand and placed it on the back of his. Coldness and burning heat mingled.

"But the rules are going to change this time." Her eyes were as sharp as a quenched knife.

"We used to fight for survival, for the truth, for revenge—"

She spoke slowly and deliberately: "Now, we are fighting to the death."

Gu Xidong gazed at the resolute look in her eyes and nodded.

"A fight to the death."

Oaths are born in ruins, forged in ashes, and take effect at dawn.

3

At six o'clock sharp, the rising sun pierced through the morning mist.

Dr. Schmidt's car was parked on the side of the road. He looked at the two people in wheelchairs amidst the ruins, but did not disturb them.

A few minutes later, Gu Xidong pushed his wheelchair over.

"At the nursing home, Raven has taken your mother away. The German clinic staff have evacuated, and the data has been destroyed. The medical ship has been abandoned, but the equipment has been moved." The doctor paused. "The Black Swan has been fooled; they thought you escaped and are now tracking the medical ship with all their might."

"So we have forty-eight hours," Ling Wuwen said.

"Forty-eight hours later, they will find the hospital ship empty."

"That's enough." Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen exchanged a glance and spoke simultaneously, "Training."

The doctor was stunned: "Now? There's not even an ice rink—"

"We can find another ice rink, and we can buy more equipment." Gu Xidong took the tablet.

"There are still 57 days until the Grand Prix China, enough time for us to hone our skills."

He opened the intelligence message sent by the raven.

In the photo, Li Mo is wearing the national team uniform and has a bright smile.

She just won bronze at the Grand Prix of the United States last month and is hailed as "the future of Chinese figure skating".

Gu Xidong's pupils contracted.

The junior brother who always followed behind and called me "senior brother".

"He's the new pawn of the Black Swan." Ling Wuwen's voice was icy.

"In the 'Final Trial' plan, he will be the security guard who 'acts in good faith' and fires the shot. His real identity is Zhou Wentao's illegitimate son, trained in the special forces, and returned to China two years ago as an athlete."

Gu Xidong turned off the tablet and said to the doctor, "Drive."

Where to?

He glanced at the rearview mirror and his eyes met Ling Wuwen's.

"Go to a place where you can train. Go to a place where you can sharpen your tools."

He paused, then uttered the last three words:

"Go to the battlefield."

The car drove out of the ruins, the embers behind it silently bathed in the morning sun.

In life, the road leads to the unknown.

A war to the death, a dance never finished.

The contract has been signed.