Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

At 3 a.m., my left knee started to hurt right on time.

Gu Xidong propped himself up from the training mat, sweat dripping down his spine and into his waistband.

The basement of the safe house had no windows, and the air was thick with the smell of rust and disinfectant.

The electronic clock showed 03:17 Moscow time, seventy-two hours before the opening ceremony of the World Figure Skating Championships.

He gripped his knee, his fingers clenching tightly.

A faint grinding sound came from deep within the joints, like an undercurrent flowing beneath the ice.

"Practice the jump one more time."

The raven's voice on the communicator was hoarse and steady:

"When landing after a triple Axel, the center of gravity is still too forward. During competition, the ice surface is harder, and even a fraction of a second forward will result in a fall."

Gu Xidong didn't answer. He walked to the edge of the training field and held onto the railing with one hand.

Take off, spin, land on the ice.

The moment my knee hit the ground, it exploded with a sharp pain.

He staggered two steps and slammed his right hand on the ice to steady himself.

My breath condensed into white mist, which carried the smell of blood—I had just bitten the inside of my mouth.

"This is the third time," said the raven. "The same mistake."

"Know."

"Knowing isn't enough. Ling Wuwen relayed a message: Ye Shen's men have taken control of the stadium's lighting system. Your performance is scheduled for 20:15 PM, at which time all the lights in the stadium can be turned off instantly. There will be a three-minute and twelve-second darkness period between the lights going out and the backup power starting."

Gu Xidong sat up: "How much can you do in three minutes and twelve seconds?"

"Enough for the assassin to slip through the stands and reach the ice rink railing, enough for you to disappear from the ice, enough for Ling Wuwen to detonate the electromagnetic pulse device hidden in the sound system—provided the actions are precise to the second." Raven paused.

"But in your current state, you'd be barely able to finish 'Black Swan.'"

Black Swan.

Gu Xidong closed his eyes.

The program was choreographed three months ago, and the finishing move is a quadruple jump followed by a kneeling slide—which requires the left knee to bear the impact of the entire body weight.

He chose this move because Ling Wuwen said, "It's like a wounded swan taking its last flight."

"I will finish," Gu Xidong said. "Seventy-two hours should be enough for the swelling in my knee to go down."

"Painkillers can only be used a maximum of two more times. Exceeding the dosage will affect nerve reaction speed; going on the field then is tantamount to suicide."

"Then let them die."

The communicator fell silent. An electrical buzzing sound rang out in the stillness.

After a long while, the raven's voice lowered slightly:

"My child asked during a video call today if Daddy's game could be watched on TV. I said yes, it will be broadcast all over the world."

Gu Xidong's fingers dug into the ice.

"She also asked if winning the competition meant she could go home. I told her that three days after the competition, they would be spending Christmas in a small town at the foot of the Alps. There would be snow that never melts and a carousel with lights on 24 hours a day."

"You lied to her."

"I've fooled many people," said the raven, "but this time I don't want it to become true."

Communication was cut off.

Gu Xidong knelt on the ice for five minutes, waiting for the excruciating pain to turn into a dull ache, and then into numbness.

Then he got up and walked towards the locker room.

The training schedule on the wall was densely packed. The last line was marked in red: "20:15-20:18, Free Skating Program 'Black Swan'". Below that was Raven's handwriting: "For these three minutes, you are not an athlete, you are a warrior."

2

Lighting control room, B2 floor of Moscow Stadium.

Ling Wuwen lay prone inside the ventilation duct, his right ear pressed against the wall. He could hear Russian conversation coming from below, the accents rough and Siberian.

"...All circuit tests are complete. There is a three-second delay before the main control console is connected to backup power."

"Three seconds is too long. Mr. Ye requires a seamless switch."

"Then add capacitors. The audience won't notice the light flickering for a hundredth of a second, but our people need those three seconds."

What about the surveillance cameras around the ice rink?

"We've replaced it with our own system. The original surveillance footage would loop the first three minutes of recording, so the security room was only seeing a fake feed."

Ling Wuwen held his breath, pulled out the miniature camera, and peeked the lens out from the gap in the ventilation mesh.

Inside the control room, four men in electrician uniforms stood around the main control panel.

One of them rolled up his sleeve, revealing a black tattoo on the inside of his wrist—a simple line drawing of a swan's neck, the symbol of the "Black Swan" killer.

She moved the camera, scanning the wiring diagram.

The main lighting circuit is marked in red, the backup circuit in blue, and the newly added third circuit is marked in green, with the endpoint pointing to "VIP Box - Ye".

Ye Shen's private control network.

It bypasses the central processing unit and connects directly to the physical switch of the lighting system.

This means that even if the main control panel is hacked, Ye Shen can still control all the lights in the venue from his private room.

Including those three minutes and twelve seconds of darkness.

"Situation." A communication request popped up from the raven.

"Worse than expected." Ling Wuwen lowered his voice.

"They deployed two independent systems. Our electromagnetic pulse could only disable the main control unit; the hidden wiring was physically isolated and protected."

"Can it be cut off?"

"The wiring is hidden within the steel structure's mezzanine, running throughout the entire stadium. It's impossible to remove it before the game unless the entire wall is blown up."

"That means Ye Shen can create darkness at any time."

"Anytime. And he doesn't need to wait until the performance time. He can cut off the lights and cause chaos whenever he wants—any chaos will be to his advantage."

"Do we still have our three-minute window?"

"Yes, but the risks are doubled. Ye Shen might act ahead of time, or he might reverse his actions when we do, such as suddenly turning on the lights to expose the 'ice shards' group's location."

A new message appears on the tablet screen.

The raven brought a 3D model of the stadium, with twelve red dots scattered across the stands—the locations of the "Ice Shards" members.

"Update," Raven said. "There's more than just us and the 'Black Swan' in the audience. An international investigative journalist team has infiltrated, eight people, disguised as photographers."

If something goes wrong, they will bypass official media and release information directly to the world.

Ling Wuwen dragged the model and marked the reporter's location in yellow.

With the addition of the black "Black Swan" marker and the red "Ice Shavings" marker, the entire audience area was transformed into a three-color chessboard.

The three forces will clash in this 20,000-seat stadium in 72 hours.

"How is Gu Xidong's knee?" she suddenly asked.

"He just completed his twelfth triple axel and nearly fell upon landing. The medical team has advised him to withdraw from the competition."

"He won't back down."

"I know."

Below the ventilation ducts, the electricians began packing up their tools.

Ling Wuwen retreated deeper inside, waiting for the door to close:

"I need to get into Ye Shen's private room. Since he has the hidden switch, there must be other control devices next to it—monitoring screens, communication equipment, and possibly even a terminal connected to the lab's mainframe."

"The private rooms have independent security systems, using both iris and fingerprint verification."

"He always had to leave the box. Before the performance started, all the VIPs needed to go to the lounge for a reception. That was the only time he could leave the box."

The raven calculated the time: "The reception is scheduled after the opening ceremony, from 19:30 PM to 20:10 PM. You have a maximum of thirty minutes to act."

"That's enough."

"Not enough. The situation inside the private room is unknown; there may still be guards on duty. You'll need at least forty minutes."

"Then let's shorten the reception."

Ling Wuwen pulled up the event schedule, his finger hovering over the "Opening Ceremony Performance" section.

"I need you to hack into the opening ceremony's command system. Create a 'minor glitch' during the fireworks segment, delaying the launch by three minutes."

What's the use of delaying?

"The reception agenda includes watching the opening ceremony. The fireworks will be delayed, so VIPs will have to wait an extra three minutes in the lounge. Ye Shen won't leave early; he needs to maintain his image. Those three minutes, plus the time he spends traveling to and from the private room, will be just enough for me to infiltrate, search, and retreat."

The sound of keyboard typing could be heard.

Ten seconds later, the raven said, "The fireworks control system has six layers of firewalls, which will take twenty minutes to crack. Success will create a three- to five-minute delay, but will trigger an alarm. Your infiltration must be completed before the alarm sounds."

"make a deal."

Ling Wuwen was about to cut off the communication when Raven suddenly called out to her, "The child drew a picture today and asked me to send it to you."

The image shows three people holding hands and standing on an ice surface, with stars and the moon in the background.

The child drew a pair of ice skates under Gu Xidong's feet with crayons, and a camera in Ling Wuwen's hand.

She thought her mother was there to film her father's competition.

At the very top, written in crooked Russian, was the message: "Wishing Dad victory in the competition."

Ling Wuwen stared at the line of text, his fingertips tracing across the screen.

"After the competition," she said, "I'm going to take her to the Alps. Really, I'm not kidding."

"I know."

"If I don't come back—"

"There are no 'ifs'," the raven interrupted her. "You will all come back. That's an order."

Communication was cut off.

Ling Wuwen lay in the dark pipe for another five minutes until the soreness in his eyes subsided.

Then she put away her tablet and began to crawl backward.

The pipe was narrow, and the metal edge scraped against my shoulder.

She recalled the night three years ago when she crawled out of the laboratory's escape tunnel, with the flames of an explosion behind her and her dying child in her arms.

But the child survived.

She's still alive today, she can draw, she can write, and she asks, "Can I watch Dad's competition on TV?"

Ling Wuwen climbed to the exit and pushed open the ventilation screen. Below was an underground parking lot, empty and silent, with only a few emergency lights glowing green.

She leaped down, landing silently.

As she walked toward the exit, she passed a fire escape window.

The mirror was blurry, reflecting a woman wearing black overalls and with her hair tied in a ponytail.

His eyes were cold, and his right hand instinctively went to his waist—where the remote control switch for the electromagnetic pulse detonator was hidden.

Ling Wuwen stopped and looked at himself in the mirror.

Three years ago, all she had in her eyes was hatred.

She hated Ling Yaqin, she hated Ling Yashi, she hated those who used her daughter as an experimental subject. Hatred drove her to survive, and it almost burned her to ashes.

What now?

She leaned closer to the glass and examined her eyes closely. Deep within her pupils, besides the coldness, there seemed to be something else.

Perhaps it's exhaustion. Perhaps it's... a tiny glimmer of light.

She turned and left.

3

At four o'clock in the morning, Gu Xidong finished training and returned to the safe house upstairs.

A first-aid kit, ice packs, and a painkiller injection pen were on the coffee table in the living room. He sat down and rolled up his left trouser leg.

My knee was swollen like fermented dough, my skin was burning hot, and I could see purplish-red spots from broken capillaries.

He picked up the injection pen and aimed the needle at the outside of his thigh.

He paused before pressing the button.

The side effects instruction manual highlights the following line in red: "May affect spatial perception and the accuracy of time judgment."

For an athlete who needs to spin at high speeds on the ice and land with precision, these two abilities are life itself.

For a soldier who needs to complete the evacuation, counterattack, and regrouping in three minutes and twelve seconds of darkness, these two abilities are equivalent to life itself.

Gu Xidong put down the injection pen and picked up an ice pack, pressing it against his knee. The low temperature penetrated his skin, temporarily numbing the pain.

He leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

The music from "Black Swan" automatically played in my head.

Tchaikovsky's melody has been adapted with added electronic sound effects. Each beat corresponds to a movement, and each jump corresponds to a breath.

He practiced this program 374 times.

On the first repetition, my left knee could easily complete four jumps. On the hundredth repetition, I started needing a bandage for support.

On the 300th jump, the medical team suggested switching to triple jumps.

He didn't change.

Because the last move, the quadruple jump followed by a kneeling slide, is the soul of the entire program.

The leap symbolizes struggle, while the kneeling slide symbolizes submission—submitting to fate and then being reborn from submission.

Without this action, Ye Shen wouldn't have believed that he was really just an athlete who came to compete.

Gu Xidong opened his eyes and looked out the window.

The safe house is located on the outskirts of Moscow, with a birch forest outside the window.

The dawn light seeped through the treetops, a blurry gray-blue, making it impossible to tell whether the night was ending or the dawn had not yet arrived.

The encrypted phone on the coffee table vibrated.

The message came from an unknown number, containing only a string of coordinates and the sentence: "Did you see the child's drawing?"

Ye Shen.

Three seconds later, a second message came in: "Come to the private room after the match. I'll show you the original; it's more lifelike than the photograph."

Article 3: "Don't bring weapons. Don't bring companions. Come alone."

Gu Xidong put down his phone.

The ice pack had melted, and cold water soaked through his trousers. He removed the ice pack, and the pain returned.

He picked up the painkiller pen, and this time without hesitation, he inserted the needle into his skin and pushed it all the way in.

The moment the drug is injected into the bloodstream, the world feels light.

The pain receded like the tide, leaving behind a dangerous sense of comfort. My mind cleared, and my muscles relaxed.

Side effects began to appear.

The second hand of the clock on the wall ticked, each tick leaving a trail of afterimages.

He blinked, the afterimage disappeared, but his sense of time was already distorted—he couldn't tell if one second was one second or two seconds.

Gu Xidong stood up and tested his balance. Fortunately, he could still walk in a straight line.

He walked to the window and looked at the birch forest.

The sky brightened a little more, the frost on the tree trunks began to melt, and the trajectory of the falling water droplets slowed and lengthened in his eyes.

The phone vibrated for the third time. A message from Raven: "Ye Shen contacted you?"

"Um."

"He wants to meet in the private room?"

"Um."

"Refuse. That's a trap."

"Know."

"So what are you planning to do?"

Gu Xidong typed a reply, deleted it, and retyped it. Finally, he sent: "I want the painting back."

The raven's reply came a full minute later:

"Three minutes and twelve seconds after the performance ends, I will cut off the independent power supply to the private box. The darkness will be extended to five minutes. These five minutes are your only chance to enter the box, retrieve the painting, and escape. But Ye Shen will definitely have guards in the box, and may even be waiting for you personally."

"Then let's wait for him."

"Your knees can't hold up in this fight."

"We can hold on."

"Gu Xidong—"

"Raven." Gu Xidong typed slowly, making sure each word was accurate.

"Three years ago, when I unplugged those data cables, I thought I had killed my daughter. Those three seconds were the longest three seconds of my life. Now Ye Shen has her paintings, and her words are on them. This time, I will not let anyone take away what belongs to her."

silence.

After a long while, the raven sent its last message:

"The medical team will bring you a new bandage in five minutes. There's a miniature cutter and a signal jammer hidden inside. The instructions are on the inside of the bandage; they're only visible under UV light."

"Eight hours before the performance, Ling Wuwen will arrive at the locker area on the south side of the stadium. Locker number A-17, the password is the child's birthday. There are things she left for you inside."

"May we all survive these seventy-two hours."

Gu Xidong put down his phone.

Outside the window, the birch forest was completely illuminated.

The morning light filtered through the branches and leaves, casting tiny golden spots on the snow.

A squirrel leaps from one tree trunk to another with a light touch, splashing snow as it lands.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then he turned and walked towards the training room. The pain in his left knee was suppressed by medication, his sense of time was still distorted, but his muscle memory remained.

He needs to practice "Black Swan" again.

the last time.