Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

The truck sped through the streets in the early morning.

Gu Xidong leaned against the inner wall of the carriage, and every bump made his left knee wound ache terribly.

He gritted his teeth, watching the trending search terms constantly refresh on his tablet screen.

That 30-second live stream clip has been shared more than two million times, and the hashtag #ChenGuodongSuspectedOfMurder# has garnered over 30 million views in half an hour.

"At least twenty media outlets have gathered in front of the TV station," the driver said without turning his head. "The police have arrived and are cordoning off the area."

Ling Wuwen wiped the dirt off his face, revealing a scratch on his right forehead.

She took the tablet and turned on the live news broadcast. The screen showed the television station building surrounded by police cars and news vans.

"Police have launched an investigation into the incident during tonight's live broadcast," the female reporter said. "Referee Chen Guodong has been taken away to assist with the investigation."

The camera cuts to Chen Guodong being led out of the building by two police officers. He has his head down, covering his face with his hands, his dark gray suit is wrinkled, and his gold-rimmed glasses are nowhere to be seen.

"Just assisting with the investigation." Gu Xidong stared at the screen.

"The evidence has been made public, and public opinion can no longer be suppressed." Ling Wuwen turned off the video. "The Ice Shards organization has contacted at least seven families, all of whom are willing to provide testimony."

The truck turned onto a secluded side road and stopped in an abandoned logistics park.

Deep inside the park, there is a two-story building with its windows boarded up, and only one door letting in a sliver of light.

The young man wearing glasses opened the car door: "Safe house. It can last at least three days."

His name is Wu Rui, a programmer. His sister committed suicide ten years ago after retiring from gymnastics due to abuse by her coach.

His tone was calm.

"After tonight, you'll be the number one target." Wu Rui turned on his computer. "The police are looking for you, Chen Guodong's men are looking for you, and so is Zhou Wentao—he's still in China, and customs restrictions last for another forty hours."

The screen displays surveillance footage of the area surrounding the safe house. No abnormalities have been detected so far.

"We need a doctor." Ling Wuwen pointed to Gu Xidong's knee, where the gauze was soaked with blood.

"It's arranged. They'll be there before dawn." Wu Rui handed over the first-aid kit. "Let's do some basic treatment first."

Ling Wuwen helped Gu Xidong sit on the cot and carefully cut the gauze. The wound had reopened, and she cleaned, applied medicine, and bandaged it with practiced ease.

Gu Xidong stared at the mold spots on the ceiling, replaying the scenes on the stage in his mind.

Chen Guodong's stiff face, the security guard rushing forward, the white smoke from the exploding smoke grenade...

"We did it," he said softly.

"It's just the first step." Ling Wuwen tightened his bandages. "Chen Guodong is just a front-line pawn. Zhou Wentao is the core, and there's also the 'club' behind him."

"There are forty-seven people on the list," Gu Xidong said. "Let's go one by one."

Wu Rui's computer beeped.

He leaned closer to the screen: "The police have issued an arrest warrant."

The official account of the Municipal Public Security Bureau issued a notice for assistance in the investigation:

"Gu, male, 24 years old, is suspected of involvement in tonight's live television broadcast incident and disturbing public order. Ling, gender unknown, is suspected of being an accomplice..."

The attached photo is their ID photo from three years ago.

The photo of Gu Xidong was taken during his time with the national team; he was wearing sportswear and had a youthful smile.

The photo of Ling Wuwen is that of Ling Wuwen (her younger sister) on her ID card; she has short hair, no makeup, and a timid look in her eyes.

"They used your sister's photo," Gu Xidong said.

"As expected." Ling Wuwen said expressionlessly.

"Zhou Wentao knows my real identity, but the police don't. He used this photo to force me to come out and clarify—once I appear in public, his men can find me."

"Then I won't show myself."

"No," Wu Rui interjected. "The Ice Shard Organization's next plan requires you to give public interviews. Only when you tell the story yourself will it have enough impact."

"When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. An online media outlet, whose editor-in-chief is one of ours. The entire interview will be broadcast live and cannot be edited."

Wu Rui pulled out the plan, "But the risk is very high. Once the interview location is exposed, you might not be able to leave."

"It's the same wherever we go." Gu Xidong stood up and tried to move his left leg. The pain was still intense, but bearable. "Let's set a time."

2

The doctor arrived at three in the morning.

She was a silent middle-aged woman, carrying a full set of surgical instruments.

She cleaned and sutured Gu Xidong's wounds again on the makeshift "operating table," and gave him a tetanus shot and antibiotics.

"The wound is infected," the doctor said as he packed up his instruments. "If we do it again, we might lose this leg."

"As long as you can walk, that's fine."

The doctor glanced at him, said nothing more, left a few boxes of medicine, and left.

Gu Xidong took painkillers and lay down on his cot.

As the medication took effect, the pain became distant, and consciousness began to blur.

He dreamed of an ice rink.

An endless white ice field.

He stood alone in the center, looking around, the horizon disappearing into the fog.

He wanted to skate, but his legs wouldn't move. Looking down, he saw countless faces frozen beneath the ice—Ling Wufeng, Zheng Guoquan, Zhao Xun, the owners of the skates on the wall…

They were staring at him, their eyes wide open beneath the ice.

Then the ice cracked.

Gu Xidong suddenly woke up with a start.

Its daybreak.

Morning light filtered through the gaps in the wooden planks, cutting thin streaks of light across the concrete floor.

Ling Wuwen sat at the table, working in front of the computer.

She changed into clean clothes, a band-aid was placed on the wound on her forehead, and her profile was clearly defined in the morning light.

"Awake?" She didn't turn around. "The internet is exploding."

Gu Xidong sat up. His left knee still hurt, but it was better than last night.

He walked to the table and looked at the computer screen.

Overnight, public opinion completely reversed.

3

More than a dozen sports-related self-media outlets published in-depth investigative articles, outlining the history of the "Black Swan" club, listing suspected victims, and attaching some screenshots of evidence.

Although the original evidence was quickly deleted by the platform, the screenshots had already spread across the entire internet.

More importantly, real people started to show up.

A former gymnast who retired ten years ago posted a video recounting his experience of being drugged before the National Games for refusing his coach's "special request," which led to a mistake and forced him to retire.

The mother of a speed skater gave a tearful phone interview, saying that her son died of a sudden heart attack seven years ago after training. The autopsy report was full of doubts, but she had no way to appeal.

An anonymous synchronized swimming coach revealed that there are clear price tags in the team's selection process, with a national competition spot starting at 300,000 yuan.

"The dominoes have fallen," Ling Wuwen said in a low voice. "Half of the families contacted by the Ice Shards organization have already spoken out publicly. The rest are watching and waiting for the official stance."

Has there been any official response?

"The General Administration of Sport issued a statement saying, 'We attach great importance to this and have established a special investigation team.'" Ling Wuwen clicked on the news page. "Typical official rhetoric. But at least it shows that they can't suppress it anymore."

Wu Rui came upstairs carrying several bowls of instant noodles: "Breakfast. The bad news is, suspicious vehicles have started appearing around here. They could be reporters, or they could be Zhou Wentao's men."

When will the interview take place?

"Two o'clock in the afternoon." Wu Rui glanced at his watch.

"Seven hours left. The interview location is in a creative park in the south of the city, and our people have already set up a perimeter. But the time window is very short—the interview will last forty minutes, and we'll move on immediately afterward."

"Where to transfer to?"

"I don't know," Wu Rui admitted.

"The Ice Shard organization has twelve safe houses in the city, and they will all be put into use as cover tonight. Only the people escorting you know your exact destination. I don't know either."

The level of secrecy measures taken to this extent indicates an extremely high level of danger.

After finishing his instant noodles, Gu Xidong started to stretch his body.

His left knee hurt with every movement, but he forced himself to do basic stretches. He couldn't appear too weak in front of the camera that afternoon.

At 10 a.m., the first unexpected event occurred.

A notification popped up on Wu Rui's computer: "Zhou Wentao was taken away by the police at the airport."

In the video, Zhou Wentao was stopped by three plainclothes police officers in the airport VIP channel. After showing his identification, he was taken into a police car.

"Assist in the investigation?" Ling Wuwen frowned.

"The report stated 'suspected of job-related crimes.'" Wu Rui quickly glanced at the press release.

"Economic issues, bribery, abuse of power. No mention of murder, no mention of what happened three years ago."

"They're cutting it." Gu Xidong understood.

"Charge Zhou Wentao and Chen Guodong for individual economic crimes, and separate them from the 'Black Swan' club and those murder cases. This will both quell public opinion and protect the rest of the club."

"Then our interview this afternoon will be even more crucial." Ling Wuwen turned off the news. "We must make sure that the allegations of murder, drugging, and match-fixing are firmly established, and we can't let them try to change the subject."

At noon, the people escorting them arrived.

There were two men. One was tall and muscular with a scar on his face. He introduced himself as "Old Gun," a former special forces soldier. The other was thin and wiry, and called himself "Mouse," a hacker.

"The car's downstairs," Old Gun said succinctly.

"The route is planned, the whole journey will take forty minutes. We'll change vehicles once along the way. There are six of us around the interview location, three inside the building and three outside. If anything unusual happens, we'll evacuate immediately through the backup exit."

"Evacuation plan?"

The mouse brings up a diagram of the building's structure on the tablet: "The interview room is on the second floor. Outside the window are the rooftops of adjacent buildings, about 1.2 meters apart. Jump over there. There's an escape ladder on the roof; going down leads to a back alley where a car will pick you up."

"Where are the police?"

"There's a fire drill in the creative park today, so police cars coming and going won't arouse suspicion. But if the real police come, we can't stop them." Old Gun looked at them. "All interviews must be kept under thirty minutes. The mouse will give a signal at twenty-five minutes. When you see the signal, no matter where you are, stop immediately and leave."

"clear."

They set off at 1 p.m.

Old Gun drove, Mouse sat in the passenger seat, and Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen were in the back. The car drove out of the logistics park and merged into the afternoon traffic.

4

Gu Xidong looked out the window at the street scene rushing past.

The sun was shining brightly, pedestrians hurried by, delivery scooters weaved between vehicles, and food stalls steamed with warmth. A normal world, a normal life.

And they are embarking on a gamble that could end everything.

"It has a tail," the mouse suddenly said.

In the rearview mirror, a silver sedan was following three cars ahead.

"reporter?"

"Not like it." Old Gun accelerated and changed lanes, and the silver sedan followed suit. "They're very professional in following."

He jerked the steering wheel and turned into a small alley.

A silver sedan followed. The alley was narrow, only wide enough for one car to pass at a time.

"Hold on tight," Old Gun said.

He slammed on the gas, and the car sped through the alley, the walls on both sides almost scraping the rearview mirror.

A sharp right-angle bend appeared ahead. Without slowing down, Lao Qiang pulled the handbrake, the car swerved, and slid sideways through the bend, the tires screeching as they rubbed against the ground.

The silver sedan was also quite skilled, but it was half a second too slow, and the front of the car scraped against the wall, sending sparks flying.

Old Gun sped out of the alley, merged into the main road, changed lanes several times, and turned into the underground parking lot. He circled the parking lot twice before exiting from another exit.

The silver sedan disappeared in the rearview mirror.

"We've shaken them off." Mouse hovering over the screen, "but they definitely know we're heading to the creative park."

"Speed ​​up," Ling Wuwen said.

At 1:40, they arrived at the creative park.

This place was originally a converted old factory; it's a red brick building with a loft space.

There was indeed a fire drill today. Two fire trucks were parked in the park, and people in uniforms were walking around.

The interview took place on the second floor of a four-story building. Old Gun parked the car behind the building, and the four of them quickly went upstairs.

The interview room was already set up. A simple backdrop, two chairs, and three cameras.

A young woman wearing glasses was waiting inside; she was the editor-in-chief and the liaison for the Ice Chips organization.

"The equipment has been checked, and there are no listening devices," she said. "The interview will start promptly at 2 PM, and will be broadcast live simultaneously on 27 platforms across the internet. Here is the list of questions; please take a look."

Gu Xidong took the list. The questions were direct: What happened that night three years ago? How did Ling Wufeng die? What evidence did you find? What roles did Chen Guodong and Zhou Wentao play? What is the Black Swan Club?

Every question points to the core truth.

"We will answer truthfully," Ling Wuwen said.

"But there are some details..." the editor hesitated, "such as your identity, the relationship between Ling Wuwen and Lin Wufeng..."

"Tell the whole truth." Ling Wuwen said firmly, "If we're going to overturn things, let's overturn them completely."

At 1:55, the makeup artist came in for a quick touch-up.

Gu Xidong looked at his face in the mirror. It was pale, with sunken eyes, but there was something unfamiliar in his eyes—

It wasn't hatred, it wasn't anger, it was a kind of quiet resolve.

It's exactly 2 o'clock.

The red light comes on, and the live stream begins.

5

The editor-in-chief sat opposite them, his tone gentle but serious: "Welcome, Mr. Gu Xidong and Ms. Ling Wuwen. First, please explain to the audience what exactly happened that night three years ago?"

Gu Xidong took a deep breath.

He began, starting from the locker room before the competition, talking about the abnormality of the ice skates, about Ling Wufeng drinking the energy drink for him, about the three seconds when the lights went out, about the sound of the ice skate cutting through his throat, about the temperature of the blood spreading on the ice...

He spoke slowly and in great detail. The details he had dared not recall for the past three years were now presented clearly, word by word.

Ling Wuwen provides additional medical evidence: benzodiazepine, a beta-blocker, and the neurotoxin "Frozen Heart".

She showed photos of the altered original autopsy report, bank transfer records, and photos of Chen Guodong and Chen Rui making transactions backstage.

Twenty minutes into the interview, the editor-in-chief asked the most crucial question:

"You're accusing us of a systemic criminal network. Besides Chen Guodong and Zhou Wentao, who else is involved?"

Gu Xidong took out a printout of the list and unfolded it in front of the camera.

Forty-seven names, densely packed together.

"These people are distributed across all levels of the sports system: referees, coaches, team doctors, officials, and even media professionals." He said each word carefully. "They formed the 'Black Swan' club, manipulating matches, buying and selling athletes' futures, and covering up crimes for more than a decade."

The live chat was flooded with comments. The number of viewers surpassed 20 million.

Twenty-five minutes later, the mouse gave a signal—the small red light on the corner of the table flashed once.

The editor-in-chief saw it, but she continued, "One last question. After all that, do you still want to ice skate?"

Gu Xidong paused for a second.

He hadn't expected this to be the problem.

Ling Wuwen grasped his hand.

Gu Xidong looked at the camera and slowly said:

"Skating has never been the problem. The problem is that some people have turned the ice into a hunting ground. What we need to do is not leave the ice, but turn the hunting ground back into ice."

The red light is flashing for the second time. Time's up.

The editor-in-chief nodded: "Thank you both for the interview. We hope the truth can bring about change."

The live stream has ended.

The moment the camera's red light went out, Old Gun rushed into the room: "Let's go! There's a suspicious vehicle downstairs!"

They grabbed things and rushed towards the window.

Ling Wuwen opened the window, and outside were the rooftops of the adjacent buildings, indeed only a little over a meter apart.

"Jump!" Old Gun shouted.

Gu Xidong jumped first. His left knee throbbed with pain the moment he landed, and he staggered to his feet. Ling Wuwen followed and jumped over.

The two followed Old Gun as they ran across the rooftops, jumped to the next rooftop, found the escape ladder, and quickly descended.

In the back alley, the waiting car had already started. They rushed into the car, and before the door could even be closed properly, the car sped off.

As he turned out of the alley, Gu Xidong glanced back.

Three black cars were parked downstairs at the interview site. Several people were getting out of the cars and looking up at the roof.

"We've shaken them off." Old Gun sped up.

The car sped down the street. Gu Xidong leaned back in his seat, panting heavily. His left knee ached as if it were about to split open, but something heavy was slowly dissipating in his chest.

He did it.

In front of millions of people, he told the whole truth.

My phone vibrated. Wu Rui sent me a message:

"The peak viewership reached 28 million. Of the 47 people on the list, nine have already been suspended from their duties pending investigation. The General Administration of Sport has just issued a new announcement: an independent investigation committee has been established to thoroughly investigate the 'black swan' event. The committee's chairman is... Zheng Guoquan's former comrade-in-arms."

Gu Xidong closed his eyes.

Coach Zheng, did you see that?

The city outside the car window rushed past, and the sunlight was perfect.

The shadows beneath the ice were finally brought into the sunlight.

The car drove toward a new safe point. Gu Xidong didn't know what would happen next, but at this moment, for the first time in three years, he felt his breathing was light.

Until his phone vibrated again.

This was an unfamiliar number. He hesitated for a moment, then answered.

A voice, both familiar and unfamiliar, came from the other end of the phone—hoarse, yet tinged with laughter:

"Gu Xidong, you think you've won?"

It's Zhou Wentao.

"I'm in jail," he said, "but the game isn't over yet. You know why?"

Gu Xidong gripped his phone tightly.

"Because that list is missing one of the most important names," Zhou Wentao laughed, "a name you would never guess."

The phone hangs up.

The busy tone echoed in my ears.

Looking at the bright sunlight outside the window, Gu Xidong suddenly felt cold.

Beneath the surface of the ice, there is another layer of ice.

The deepest darkness may have only just begun to awaken.