Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

On the fourth lift, Ling Wuwen's fingers suddenly dug into the muscles of Gu Xidong's shoulder blade.

It wasn't a grip; it was fingernails digging deep into flesh and tearing it apart. The excruciating pain contorted Gu Xidong's movements, and the two of them crashed heavily onto the ice.

Before landing, Gu Xidong twisted his waist to cushion himself underneath.

With a dull thud, his ribs creaked, his lungs were emptied, and a white light exploded before his eyes.

Ling Wuwen's hand remained firmly gripping his shoulder, his nails digging deeper into his flesh, dark blood seeping into his black clothes.

"Let go," Gu Xidong squeezed out through gritted teeth.

She did not react; her body trembled violently, and her pupils were dilated, as if she were seized by some deep-seated instinct.

Gu Xidong pried her fingers apart, leaving five crescent-shaped bloodstains on his shoulder.

"Ling Wuwen!"

Her pupils contracted slightly, her focus slowly returned, and her gaze quickly shifted from blankness to cold clarity.

She pushed him away and got up as quickly as if she were dodging something dirty.

"Sorry, muscle spasms," she said hoarsely.

Gu Xidong pressed his throbbing ribs—a fracture, not broken—and looked at her pale, sweating face. This wasn't a spasm; it was fear—or more accurately, aggression.

"We need to talk."

"No need." She turned and skated to the sidelines. "Practice is over."

"You're afraid of being lifted up!" Gu Xidong's voice echoed in the empty warehouse.

"It's not that you're afraid of heights or falling, it's that you're afraid of that particular posture! The person who strangled you seven years ago used the standard pairs skating lift grip! Your reaction just now wasn't to break free, it was to tear at him—maybe the one who attacked you was your former partner!"

Dead silence.

Ling Wuwen froze, his hand unconsciously touching the surgical scar on the back of his neck: "Impossible... It's not in my partner's file..."

"The files were completely deleted after Ling Wufeng's death," Gu Xidong pressed.

"But ice skates don't lie. The crack in the left heel of the skates you brought is a stress injury caused by your male partner forcibly adjusting your center of gravity during a lift—at least two years of training wear and tear! Ling Wuwen, how many people's memories are hidden in this body?"

"You're a madman!" She jerked her hand back, the ice blade scraping against the ground with a long, piercing sound as she retreated.

"Training continues! We must complete the lift today!"

"Your condition—"

"I'm fine!" Her voice suddenly rose.

"The problem is you! You've been testing me, analyzing me, like studying a specimen! I'm not your case, Gu Xidong, I'm your partner! If you can't trust me, then replace me! Who else? Is there anyone else in this world willing to partner with an unidentified 'monster' wanted nationwide?"

"Likewise," Gu Xidong retorted coldly.

Ling Wuwen's face was deathly pale, his lips trembled, and his eyes were filled with dark, viscous emotions.

She suddenly turned around, slid to the corner, and ripped off the waterproof tarpaulin.

Below is a tempered glass water tank, four meters long and three meters deep, with a deep blue water surface.

"Underwater weight-bearing training system." She tossed him a wetsuit, her voice regaining its composure.

"Water temperature four degrees Celsius, simulating zero gravity. Your left leg needs this. Today we won't practice lifts, but rather underwater movement breakdowns. Start with a weight of five kilograms, aiming for twenty kilograms."

She deftly took off her training clothes, revealing her body covered in surgical scars, put on a weighted belt and mask, and gestured for him to "go into the water".

Gu Xidong followed closely behind.

Enveloped in icy water, bathed in the dim blue light of the underwater lamps, Ling Wuwen stood firmly, like a fish adapted to the darkness.

She pointed to the screen on the side wall: a land simulation of a back outside toe loop jump, eight steps, each held for five seconds.

She started first.

Squatting, gathering strength, simulating a jump... the movements are slow yet precise underwater.

The water flow outlined the lines of her body, and every rhythm of her exertion, even the slight swaying of her left ankle before jumping (to check her center of gravity), was exactly the same as Lin Wufeng's three years ago.

Gu Xidong felt a chill run down his spine.

When it was his turn, his old left leg injury suddenly cramped up under the water pressure. The muscle spasm felt like an electric current, he lost his balance, the lead weights dragged him down rapidly, water filled his breathing tube, and a suffocating feeling gripped his throat.

A hand suddenly grabbed his belt.

Ling Wuwen approached from behind, wrapped his arms around his waist, and lifted him up with astonishing strength.

She pressed her fingertips against his spasming muscles through his wetsuit, helping him relax.

Their bodies were pressed close together, and Gu Xidong could clearly feel her rapid heartbeat.

Time is blurred underwater.

With the spasms relieved, Gu Xidong indicated that it was okay.

Ling Wuwen released his grip, but did not move away, instead resting his hand lightly on his waist.

Gu Xidong looked into her eyes behind the mask. Underwater, she shed her coldness and wariness, leaving only a pure, focused attention—

Just like the look in Ling Wufeng's eyes when he saw him fall three years ago.

He got it.

There is no "Ling Wuwen" or "Ling Wufeng" underwater. There is only muscle instinct, only the most primitive conditioned reflexes remembered by the body.

He gestured: Continue.

This time, Ling Wuwen stayed half a meter to his side, moving in sync with him.

The two stood side by side underwater, and their movements miraculously began to synchronize.

Water becomes a wonderful connecting medium; with each stroke and kick, power is transmitted to the other through the water waves.

Gu Xidong's left leg stopped cramping.

The water pressure lifted him up, and he felt his dormant muscles awaken, in his memories.

The third group, the fourth group... the weight was increased to twelve kilograms.

As he surfaced to breathe, Gu Xidong swallowed large gulps of the cold air, yet felt a long-lost sense of exhilaration.

My left leg still hurts, but it feels full of strength.

Ling Wuwen climbed ashore first, took off his mask, and his wet hair clung to his pale cheeks. She reached out and pulled him up.

"How's your left leg?" she asked.

"Sure. One more round of practice is no problem."

"Practice again tomorrow. Today is enough."

The two sat quietly by the sink, with only the sound of dripping water and heavy breathing.

"The way you helped me underwater just now was a standard mutual rescue move in pairs figure skating. It's on page seven of the national team's textbook," Gu Xidong said, looking at her.

Ling Wuwen paused.

"I've never learned pairs skating," she said softly.

"But your body remembers." Gu Xidong looked directly into her eyes. "Muscle memory is more honest than the brain."

She looked down at her hands, covered in needle marks and calluses, and after a long while, sighed softly, "Perhaps. Perhaps there really is more than one person living inside this body."

She stood up, took off her soaking wetsuit, revealing her body covered in wounds. This time, Gu Xidong didn't look away.

"Gu Xidong," she suddenly spoke, her back to him.

"What if one day you discover that I'm not actually me—what if the person awake in this body is someone you don't know—what would you do?"

Gu Xidong stood up, water droplets dripping from his body.

"Then I'll ask the new guy," he said calmly, "would he be willing to partner with me and finish the dance?"

Ling Wuwen smiled. It was a tired but genuine, faint smile.

"You're a madman."

"Same to you."

She walked a step away from him, looked up at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions.

"Training will continue tomorrow," she said.

"I must pass the lift. Whether it's my psychological barriers or muscle memory, I must resolve them within fifty-seven days."

"How do we solve this?"

"Use the most basic method," Ling Wuwen said firmly.

"Practice until your body remembers the correct reaction, practice until fear becomes numb, practice until—" she paused, "practice until that possible 'other person' is also willing to cooperate."

She turned and walked towards the stairs, her back straight.

Gu Xidong watched her disappear around the corner, then bent down to pick up a heavy lead weight that had fallen to his feet. The metal was cold and heavy.

Raven came down from the second floor and handed over a tablet computer:

"I've collected the training data. Ling Wuwen's underwater movement patterns are 93% similar to Ling Wufeng's training videos from three years ago. This isn't imitation; it's replication."

Gu Xidong did not answer.

"You knew all along."

"It was just a suspicion. Now it's confirmed." Raven said calmly.

"This means that the brain of this body may retain Ling Wufeng's motor cortex memories. If there really is 'another consciousness,' it is very likely that it is Ling Wufeng himself, or a part of him."

She pulled up a brain scan: "Dr. Schmidt's analysis. Ling Wuwen's preoperative scan showed an abnormal signal area in the left temporal lobe related to memory storage. After the surgery, the signal didn't disappear, it just seemed to be covered up. The underlying layer is still there, temporarily dormant."

"So she could 'switch' at any time?"

"Not necessarily. The brain is complex. Maybe it's just residual electrical activity." Raven looked directly at him.

"But one thing is certain—if that consciousness awakens, the current Ling Wuwen might disappear. Not die, but be overwritten. Like a CD being rewritten, the old data is gone."

The warehouse was deathly silent.

"Is there any way to stop it?"

"No. It's the brain's own choice." Raven shook its head.

All we can do is complete what needs to be done while she is still "her".

She shoved the tablet into Gu Xidong's hands.

"Tomorrow, Lao Zhao's senior colleague, Xu Gonghui, will be coming. He's sixty-two years old and a retired chief electrical engineer. His condition for bringing the complete log is—" She paused, "to speak with Ling Wufeng 'himself'."

"What do you mean?"

"Literally," Raven said. "He said he knew Ling Wufeng wasn't dead. He said he had a way to 'awaken' him."

She turned and walked toward the stairs, her voice drifting up from above.

"So you'd better think this through tonight. Who will be coming to see you tomorrow—are they really just accomplices?"

"Or is it someone else who wants to open Pandora's box?"