Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

At 3 a.m. on December 8, the ice rink was closed.

It wasn't the kind of blockade with police cars and cordon tape.

Even more discreetly, the streetlights on the corner suddenly went out, the surrounding shops closed early, and even the neon lights of the 24-hour convenience store across the street went out.

Gu Xidong stood at the second-floor window, looking out into the darkness.

"They made their move."

Ling Wufeng sat behind him, his right leg stretched out, his left eye covered by a hastily found black cloth.

His blind eye hurts under the light, so he needs to shield it from the light.

"How long has it been?"

"Ten minutes ago, Raven lost contact."

Ling Wufeng was silent for a while, then stood up and walked to the window.

He scanned the street outside with his still-seeing right eye and said, "Gas pipes."

"What?"

"See that manhole cover on the street corner?" He pointed to a spot about thirty meters away.

"A normal gas well cover should have ventilation holes, but this one doesn't. Something else is buried underneath."

Gu Xidong squinted to look. The manhole cover was indeed strange; there were signs of recent welding on the edges.

"They wanted to cause a gas leak," Ling Wufeng said. "Then there was an 'accidental' explosion. The three of us, along with the ice rink, disappeared."

"for how long?"

"At most an hour. They need to evacuate the surrounding residents, stage the scene, and wait for the perfect moment." He turned around. "But that's not the worst of it."

"What else?"

Ling Wufeng didn't answer, but just looked towards the entrance of the ice rink.

There were three white vans parked there, with "Emergency Center" signs printed on their sides.

The car door was ajar, and inside sat people in white coats. But their posture was incorrect—

Emergency responders don't keep their hands in their pockets all the time, and they don't wear sunglasses at 3 a.m.

A killer posing as a first responder.

Gu Xidong counted. Three cars, each with at least four people. Twelve in total.

Including those controlling communications and blocking roads, there were at least twenty people.

"There are twenty of them," he said.

"At least," Ling Wufeng said, "and they're all professionals."

"How many do we have?"

Ling Wufeng looked at him without saying a word.

Gu Xidong answered for him: "Three. One has a limp, one is in a wheelchair, and one has an old knee injury."

"There's one more," Ling Wuwen's voice came from the stairwell.

She pushed her wheelchair over, stopped beside them, and looked out the window.

"What?"

"The ice rink," she said. "This is our ice rink."

2

At 3:20 a.m., Ling Wufeng discovered the underground passage.

It's located behind a pile of miscellaneous items at the very back of the equipment room, behind a rusty iron door with a warning sign that reads "High Voltage Danger."

Ling Wufeng pushed open the door, revealing a narrow passageway with mold covering the cement walls. Light could be faintly seen at the end of the passageway.

"Where does it lead?" Gu Xidong asked.

"The underground parking lot of the shopping mall next door," Ling Wufeng said.

"When the ice rink was built five years ago, they modified the piping system, and this passage was abandoned. But it's still walkable."

He turned to look at Gu Xidong.

"You can leave."

Gu Xidong didn't move.

"They're looking for me," Ling Wufeng continued.

"Take Wuwen out through the passage and go to the mall to call the police. As long as you're safe, I have a plan—"

"What method?"

Ling Wufeng remained silent.

Gu Xidong stared into his eyes—his right eye, which was still visible, gleaming faintly in the darkness.

"There's nothing you can do," he said.

"You plan to hold them off by yourself and let us go. Then you'll die here, just like you did five years ago."

"I didn't die five years ago."

"And this time?"

Ling Wufeng did not answer.

Ling Wuwen's wheelchair slid between the two of them. She looked at her brother, then at Gu Xidong, and said, "I'm not leaving."

"No questions asked—"

"Five years ago you told me to leave, and I left. Then I waited for five years." Her voice was calm, so calm it didn't sound like she was talking about her own situation. "This time I'm not leaving. We'll die together, we'll live together."

Ling Wufeng looked at her, and something seemed to be shattering in her eye.

"You don't understand," he said, "they aren't ordinary people. They are—"

"I understand," Ling Wuwen interrupted him. "I understand better than anyone. I've been in their hands before, I know what they'll do. But I'm not leaving."

She reached out and grasped Ling Wufeng's hand.

"Brother, you've been a dead man for me for five years. Enough. This time, it's my turn to be with you."

Ling Wufeng's lips moved, but no sound came out.

Gu Xidong looked at them, then turned and walked towards the center of the ice rink.

"Where are you going?" Ling Wufeng asked.

He did not answer.

He walked to the locker, opened the door, and took out the ice skates.

Those ice skates engraved with the word "Forward".

3

At 3:35 a.m., all the lights in the ice rink suddenly came on.

These aren't regular streetlights; they're overhead lights that are only turned on during matches.

It illuminates the entire ice surface from every angle, making it look like a piece of glowing white jade.

Gu Xidong stood in the center of the ice rink, wearing those ice skates.

He slowly raised his hand and tightened his shoelaces. A familiar ache came from his left knee; he pressed it and then straightened up.

Ling Wuwen pushed the wheelchair to the edge of the ice rink and stopped directly opposite him.

Ling Wufeng stood in the shadows, leaning against the protective mat, his right leg trembling slightly.

"Gu Xidong," Ling Wufeng's voice came from the shadows, "What are you doing?"

He did not answer.

He simply looked up at the security camera in the corner.

The camera was replaced with a new one after the explosion, and the red dot started flashing again.

He looked at the red dot and said, word by word:

"You want evidence? I'll jump and show you."

Then he started gliding.

The first lap was very slow. The skates cut through the ice, making a soft hissing sound, like breathing.

His body wasn't warmed up yet, and each time he pushed off the ice with his left knee, a sharp pain shot through him. But he didn't stop.

The second lap was a little faster. My arms started swinging, and my body began to lean—that was the preparatory movement for the turn.

Ling Wufeng narrowed his eyes.

He recognized that move. It was the first lesson he taught Gu Xidong—how to use the body to move the ice skate, instead of using the ice skate to move the body.

On the third lap, Gu Xidong began to perform the movements.

It wasn't a jump—he couldn't jump. It was a spin. A single-leg spin, cutting in from the outside edge, his body tightening, the spin increasing in speed. His left knee visibly buckled on the third rotation, but he adjusted his balance and managed to hold on.

Ling Wuwen's fingers began to tap on the armrests of the wheelchair.

Thump. Thump thump. Thump. Thump thump thump.

That was rhythm. It was the rhythm she used when she danced under the aurora five years ago. It was the rhythm he had memorized through five years of lonely nights.

Gu Xidong heard it.

His spinning speed began to match the rhythm—one rotation, one thud; two rotations, one thud; three rotations, one thud. It wasn't technique; it was a dialogue.

Ling Wufeng stood in the shadows, watching all of this.

He suddenly understood.

Gu Xidong wasn't dancing. He was—

"He's drawing," Ling Wufeng said softly.

Ling Wuwen didn't turn around, but his tapping fingers paused for a moment.

"What should I draw?"

Ling Wufeng didn't answer. He stared at the blade marks on the ice—every time Gu Xidong spun around, every step he took, his skates left marks on the ice. Individually, these marks were meaningless, but when combined—

That's a set of coordinates.

North latitude. East longitude. Numbers. Symbols.

All the evidence he collected during his five years of undercover work, and the locations where he hid it.

Gu Xidong used his body to draw on the ice.

4

At this moment, in an office building three kilometers away, twelve people are staring at a screen.

On the screen, a panoramic view of the ice rink is being transmitted in real time. Gu Xidong glides across the ice, his trajectory marked by red lines.

"What is he doing?" someone asked.

No one answered.

A man in a suit stood at the front, holding a coffee in his hand, his eyes fixed on the screen.

After Gu Xidong completed his seventh lap, he began to slow down.

The marks on the ice surface became more and more numerous, dense and numerous, like an abstract painting.

The man in the suit's coffee cup hovered in mid-air.

"Coordinates," he said. "He's drawing coordinates."

Everyone in the room sprang into action at once. Some pulled up map apps, some started taking screenshots, and some made phone calls—

"Wait." The man in the suit raised his hand, signaling them to stop.

On the screen, Gu Xidong skates to the center of the ice rink and stops.

He looked up and then at the surveillance camera. Three kilometers away, his eyes were fixed on the lens, even through the screen.

Then he laughed.

The smile was faint and subtle, but the man in the suit's hand trembled slightly.

"He knows we're watching," he said.

As soon as he finished speaking, the screen suddenly flickered and then went black.

"What's going on?!"

"The signal has been cut off—"

"It's not cutting off, it's interfering—"

"Someone has come in!"

You could practically hear the sound of the door being kicked open over the ice rink, even through the screen.

The man in the suit turned around and saw that his office door was also open.

A woman stood in the doorway, in her early thirties, with short hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a cell phone in her hand.

"Raven?" someone recognized her.

The raven ignored them, only looking at the man in the suit, and said one sentence:

You lost.

5

On the ice rink, as the door was flung open, Gu Xidong skating toward Ling Wuwen.

"They're here!" he shouted.

Ling Wuwen stood up, supporting herself on the armrests of her wheelchair. Her legs were trembling violently, but she gritted her teeth and walked towards him step by step.

The footsteps outside grew closer. There were at least a dozen people walking.

Ling Wufeng burst out of the shadows, limping on his right leg, but his speed was not slow. He grabbed Ling Wuwen and pushed her toward Gu Xidong.

"Let's go! Through the passage!"

"And you?!"

"I'll hold them off!"

"no--"

"Walk!"

Ling Wufeng shoved them and turned to face the door that was about to be smashed open.

Gu Xidong, with Ling Wuwen in his arms, ran towards the equipment room. Behind them came the sound of a door being kicked open, followed by the sounds of fighting, muffled groans, and the thud of heavy objects hitting the ground.

They ran into the equipment room, pushed aside the clutter, and found the iron door—

Just then, the explosion occurred.

It's not a gas pipeline. It's somewhere closer.

On the steel frame of the ice rink's dome, pre-buried explosives were detonated remotely. With a deafening roar, the entire dome shattered, and thousands upon thousands of panes of glass cascaded down from the sky like a transparent rainstorm.

Gu Xidong instinctively tackled Ling Wuwen, shielding her beneath him.

Glass shards shattered on his back, cutting him in several places. A large piece hit the side of his head, causing his vision to go black and nearly making him faint.

But he held her tightly, remaining motionless.

The glass rain lasted for more than ten seconds.

Then it fell silent.

He raised his head, covered in blood, and looked towards the center of the ice rink.

Ling Wufeng stood there.

He didn't run away.

He stood right in the middle of the ice rink, looking up at the steel frame hurtling towards him.

The steel frame detached from the dome, carrying shattered glass, and fell directly towards his head.

Three meters. Two meters. One meter.

He didn't move.

"elder brother--!"

Ling Wuwen's shout tore through the air.

The moment the steel frame crashed down, Ling Wufeng spoke.

The voice was very soft, so soft that only he could hear it:

"This time, it's my turn."

boom--!

The steel frame crashed onto the ice, creating a huge crater. Ice chips flew everywhere, and smoke billowed.

Gu Xidong struggled to his feet, leaned against the wall, and looked in that direction.

The smoke slowly dissipated.

In the center of the ice rink, a steel frame is stuck diagonally on the ice, smashing through three layers of ice to reveal the concrete surface underneath.

But there was no one under the steel frame.

Ling Wufeng has disappeared.

"Where is everyone?" Gu Xidong looked around.

Ling Wuwen also stood up, trembling all over, staring at the steel frame.

Then they heard a voice.

It came from beneath the ice.

Knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock.

A knocking sound.

Ling Wuwen's tears welled up.

That was the code she taught him—to live.

In the last second before the steel frame crashed down, Ling Wufeng slid into the maintenance tunnel beneath the ice. He had personally designed that tunnel five years ago to prevent a situation like this from happening today.

A large hole appeared in the ice, and a hand reached out from the edge of the hole.

There was a scar on the little finger of that hand.

Gu Xidong rushed over, grabbed the hand, and pulled it out.

Ling Wuwen rushed over and grabbed his brother's arm.

The two of them pulled together and dragged Ling Wufeng out of the cave.

He was covered in blood, his face was cut in several places by glass, but his eyes were open, and his right eye was still smiling.

"I'm fine," he said, panting. "I told him it was my turn this time—but I didn't say it was to die."

Gu Xidong looked at him and suddenly smiled.

Ling Wuwen laughed, but as he laughed, he burst into tears.

Three people sat on the broken ice, surrounded by shards of glass, ice chips, and fragments of steel frame. Most of the ice rink's lights were broken, with only a few still lit, illuminating a small patch of light.

In the light, they leaned against each other.

Outside the door, the sound of ravens came through the walkie-talkie:

"The encirclement has been broken. The police will be here in three minutes."

Gu Xidong picked up the walkie-talkie and said one sentence:

"The ice rink is gone."

The raven paused for a moment, then said:

"The ice rink is gone, but the evidence remains. I received those coordinates."

Gu Xidong was taken aback, then looked at the ice surface.

The knife marks he drew are still there.

On the broken ice, amidst shards of glass and bloodstains, the knife marks remain clearly visible, like streaks of light.

Ling Wufeng looked at the knife marks and said softly:

"Ice blade forward."

Ling Wuwen continued:

"No matter east or west."

Gu Xidong looked at them and slowly stood up.

He reached out and pulled Ling Wuwen up, then pulled Ling Wufeng up as well.

Three people stood in the center of the broken ice rink, with the shattered dome above them, revealing the night sky outside.

It's almost dawn.

A ray of light is slowly breaking through in the east.