Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

At 1 a.m., the storage room of the abandoned ice rink was transformed into a makeshift operations room.

Gu Xidong wiped the folding table he had taken from Lao Zhao's duty room three times, covered it with a transparent plastic sheet he had taken from the fire extinguisher box, and then solemnly placed the black USB drive in the center of the table.

The USB flash drive gleamed with a dim luster under the cool white light of the rechargeable emergency light.

Ling Wuwen leaned against the opposite wall, her left wrist wrapped in a new bandage, tied very tightly, but Gu Xidong could still see a trace of faint red seeping from the edge of the bandage.

It's the color of that drop of blood on the ice.

"Have you thought it through?" Ling Wuwen's voice echoed in the small space, carrying a metallic coldness.

"The second video is ten times more brutal than the first."

Gu Xidong did not look up.

His gaze was fixed on the USB drive, his fingers hovering over the laptop's touchpad, trembling slightly.

It wasn't fear, but something that had been suppressed for three years and was about to burst forth.

"Open it," he said.

Ling Wuwen walked over but didn't sit down. She stood beside Gu Xidong, leaned over, and typed a sixteen-digit password on the keyboard.

Her fingers tapped very lightly, but each tap seemed to strike a nerve in Gu Xidong.

The screen is flickering.

A black media player interface pops up.

Filename: BS_Event_02_MultiAngle.mkv

File size: 4.37GB

Playback duration: 22 minutes and 14 seconds

Gu Xidong took a deep breath and pressed the space bar.

2

Angle A: Locker room ceiling surveillance (official archive version)

Timestamp: 19:15:03 (45 minutes before the start of the match)

The scene shows a familiar locker room—the men's locker room at the National Sports Center Figure Skating Rink, in the third row of lockers.

The lights were a stark white, and the floor tiles reflected a cold light.

Gu Xidong saw "himself" appear in the lower left corner of the screen. At that time, he was still wearing the national team jacket and squatting on the ground checking his ice skates.

He moved quickly and focused, his brows slightly furrowed—he remembered that moment when he felt something was off about the heel of his skate, but pre-competition tension made him think it was just psychological.

Thirty seconds later, "myself" stood up, put the skates back in the locker, and turned to walk towards the shower room (to do pre-competition muscle activation).

The screen remains blank for fifteen seconds.

Then, the locker room door was pushed open.

A man wearing a dark blue maintenance worker's uniform, a mask, and a baseball cap slipped in.

He moved with lightning speed, heading straight for Gu Xidong's locker—without testing or hesitation, as if he already knew where his target was.

The man pulled a specially made hex wrench from his pocket and pried open the simple lock on the locker in just three seconds (the lock was issued by the team and was only for honest people, not for thieves).

He took out Gu Xidong's spare ice skates—the same model and size as the ones on the ice, a spare item he always brought to every game.

Close-up shot advances.

The man pulled two ice skate blades from his other pocket.

The blade looked brand new, but Gu Xidong's sharp eyes immediately spotted something unusual—the curvature of the blade tip was 0.3 millimeters flatter than the standard specification; and there were subtle signs of wear from abnormal use on the edge of the groove at the heel connection.

This wear and tear can cause tiny, invisible loosening at the connection between the skate and the blade.

When landing from a four-corner jump and bearing the impact of eight times one's own weight, this 0.3 millimeters of flatness and slight looseness is enough to shift the center of gravity, twist the ankle, and cause everything to go out of control.

The man quickly removed the original blade and replaced it with a tampered one. The whole process took no more than forty seconds.

He stuffed the old razor blade into his pocket, put the ice skates back in the locker, and locked it again, making a soft "click" sound as the lock closed.

Then he turned and left.

It took a total of fifty-seven seconds from entering to leaving.

profession.

calm.

It looked like they had rehearsed it countless times.

Angle B: Corridor surveillance footage (copy of police evidence)

Timestamp: 19:16:12 (one minute after the locker room incident)

The scene shifts to the outdoor corridor outside the changing room.

The repairman walked quickly past the camera, and at the corner of the corridor, he brushed past another middle-aged man wearing a referee's suit and a work badge hanging around his neck.

The two did not speak.

There wasn't even eye contact.

But in that instant of crossing paths, the repairman's right little finger curled upwards very slightly.

The referee's left ring finger also moved slightly in the same direction.

A covert, coded gesture to confirm task completion.

Then the two disappeared at opposite ends of the corridor.

Gu Xidong's fist suddenly clenched under the table.

The fingernails dug deep into the palm, drawing blood.

But he did not look away.

Angle C: Hidden camera in the background (source unknown, image slightly distorted).

Timestamp: 19:18:45 (two and a half minutes after the corridors intersect)

This was an angle Gu Xidong had never seen before—it seemed to be a hidden camera device concealed in the backstage electrical distribution box.

The image has arc-shaped distortion at the edges, but the clarity is extremely high; you can even see the pores on a person's face.

The referee, a man, stood next to the electrical box, his back to the camera, and was making a low-pitched phone call.

The repairman stood about half a meter to his side, having already removed his mask, revealing the lower half of his face.

He has a square chin and a noticeable black mole on the right corner of his mouth.

Gu Xidong recognized this face.

He's the always-smiling equipment manager in the team, surnamed Zhang, and everyone calls him "Master Zhang".

Master Zhang is responsible for the maintenance of all athletes' skates and the sharpening of their blades. He personally checks everyone's equipment before each competition.

"The medicine has been administered, the knife has been replaced, and the lighting crew has been prepared."

The referee's voice came from the video, somewhat distorted by the microphone of the hidden camera, but every word pierced Gu Xidong's ears like an icicle.

"Double insurance. Even if he can withstand the effects of the drug, the blade might loosen upon landing and cripple his leg."

The repairman, Mr. Zhang, rang out, his voice carrying a hint of fawning cruelty:

"You're very thoughtful. But... what if he can still jump? That kid's physical talent is freakish."

The referee was silent for two seconds.

Then he slowly turned his head—the camera captured three-quarters of his profile.

Gu Xidong's breathing stopped completely.

He recognized the face.

Chen Guodong, technical judge of the International Skating Union.

Gu Xidong and Lin Wufeng were both his students and were veterans in the Chinese figure skating world.

Chen Guodong was one of the referees in that match three years ago.

"Then let's make the 'accident' even more thorough."

Chen Guodong's voice was very soft, so soft that it sounded like he was saying, "The weather is nice today."

But the chill in his words made Gu Xidong, watching from outside the screen, feel his blood freeze.

"I've already arranged the lighting. When he rotates the sign, all the main lights in the building will turn off for three seconds. I've also had the backup power's startup time slowed down by 0.5 seconds."

He paused, then added:

"Three and a half seconds of darkness is enough for many 'accidents' to happen."

This concludes the video.

The screen went black.

The reflection showed Gu Xidong's face, as pale as paper, with bloodshot eyes.

3

In the storage room, only the hum of the emergency lights remained.

Gu Xidong remained staring at the screen for a full minute without moving.

His body was trembling violently—first his fingers, then his arms, and finally his whole body.

It wasn't a trembling of fear, but a physiological spasm caused by a mixture of extreme anger and extreme cold.

Ling Wuwen stood beside him without saying a word.

She simply watched his trembling shoulders, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and the veins bulging on his forehead.

She is waiting.

Waiting for this man to break down, or erupt.

But Gu Xidong did not break down.

There was no outbreak.

As the trembling reached its peak, he suddenly took a deep breath—the sound of which was hoarse like a broken bellows, but unusually long.

Then, slowly, little by little, he loosened his clenched fist.

He took a notebook out of his backpack.

That was the notebook he had used to keep a "dream of depravity" for the past three years, the first few dozen pages filled with drunken ramblings and self-destructive curses.

But he turned to the last blank page, picked up his pen, and began to write.

The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a soft, rustling sound.

Ling Wuwen glanced sideways.

Gu Xidong is recording the time points:

19:15:03 - Zhang enters the locker room

19:15:47 - Tool change complete

19:16:12 - Hand gesture handover in the corridor

19:18:45 - Distribution Box Dialogue

Then there are the character traits:

Mr. Zhang: Black mole on the right corner of his mouth, square chin, approximately 172cm tall.

Chen Guodong: He has a scar on the end of his left eyebrow (injured during a competition when he was young), and he habitually touches the ring on his left ring finger when he speaks.

Then there are the technical details:

Blade wear characteristics: 0.3mm flattened rake, non-standard wear on the back groove.

Lighting vulnerability: Backup power delay of 0.5 seconds (requires checking power supply system backend logs).

He wrote quickly and calmly.

It's like analyzing the tactics of a match.

Instead of documenting a premeditated murder that targeted him, which he had planned for three years.

After finishing the last stroke, Gu Xidong closed his notebook.

He raised his head and looked at Ling Wuwen.

The bloodlust and madness that had been in his eyes were gone.

All that remained was a bottomless, cold darkness.

"What is the third paragraph?" he asked.

The voice was eerily calm.

4

Ling Wuwen looked into his eyes.

In that darkness, she saw something that made her heart tremble—it wasn't anger, sadness, or even hatred.

It's something more dangerous.

Absolute calm.

Only someone who has been utterly destroyed and then pieced themselves back together possesses that kind of pure, emotionless resolve.

She was silent for a few seconds, then took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket.

"A paper summary of the third video." She pushed the paper over. "Read it before you decide whether you want to watch the original video."

Gu Xidong unfolded the paper.

The above are a few lines of printed text:

1. Autopsy Report (Ling Wufeng)

Direct cause of death: Severing of the carotid artery by an ice skate, leading to hemorrhagic shock.

Abnormal findings: Old fractures of the third and fourth ribs on the right side (poor healing), with corresponding pleural adhesions.

Toxicological testing: Succinylcholine (a muscle relaxant) residue was detected in the blood at a concentration of 0.8 mg/L (sufficient to cause temporary paralysis of motor nerves).

2. Blood test results (Gu Xidong, mandatory random testing 3 hours after the match)

Benzodiazepine sedatives: Positive (dose 0.2 mg/L, below the stun threshold)

β-blockers: negative

Muscle relaxant: negative

Note: The blood sample was switched during transit, and the original sample is missing.

3. Key Timeline

Ling Wufeng's post-match emergency blood sample (taken at 19:55) → Tested positive for muscle relaxant.

Gu Xidong's post-match blood sample (forced extraction at 22:30) → was switched.

Official report issued 72 hours after the incident → All entries related to toxicological abnormalities have been removed.

Gu Xidong's gaze was fixed on the words "muscle relaxant".

Amber acetylcholine.

He remembered this drug—the team doctor had mentioned it—it was a surgical muscle relaxant that took effect quickly and was metabolized rapidly.

If used before a competition, it can cause athletes to suddenly lose control of specific muscle groups during strenuous exercise.

For example, the sternocleidomastoid muscle, which controls neck rotation.

For example, the upper limb muscles that instinctively protect the head when falling.

"That's why he..." Gu Xidong's voice cracked for the first time, "...didn't brace himself with his hands when he fell."

Ling Wuwen nodded: "The muscle relaxant paralyzed his upper body for at least thirty seconds. Thirty seconds is enough time for him to fall at high speed, hit the ice, and then have his artery cut by the ice skate."

She paused, then added:

"Moreover, if this drug is used in conjunction with sedatives, it will allow a person to remain conscious while losing muscle control."

Gu Xidong suddenly looked up: "You mean..."

"He died while fully conscious." Ling Wuwen's voice was soft, but every word was like a knife.

"I felt the ice blade slicing through my neck while I was fully conscious, I felt the blood gushing out while I was fully conscious, and... I slowly grew colder while I was fully conscious."

Gu Xidong closed his eyes.

His body began to tremble again, but this time he forced it down. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again, the darkness was even deeper.

"And the fourth one?" he asked. "The transfer records and communication backups you collected."

"You can't watch it now," Ling Wuwen said firmly.

Why?

"Because after seeing it, you'll go after them and fight them to the death." Ling Wuwen stared at him. "You'll take this ice skate," she pointed to the training ice pick on the table, "and rush into Chen Guodong's office, or find Master Zhang's house, and then—"

"Then I'll die," Gu Xidong interrupted her. "I know."

"No," Ling Wuwen shook his head, "you won't die. You'll be caught by them, convicted of 'revenge killing,' and locked up in a mental hospital or prison. Then the 'Black Swan' will escape perfectly, and this three-year-long 'public trial' will end perfectly with the conclusion that 'the murderer Gu Xidong has committed the crime again.'"

She leaned forward, her voice hushed to the lowest possible level:

"Gu Xidong, they've been waiting for you to lose control."

"Once you become a beast that only knows how to bite, they will have a legitimate reason to 'dispose of' you."

"So you can't read the fourth paragraph."

"At least not now."

Gu Xidong fell silent.

He looked into Ling Wuwen's eyes, into those eyes that even paint couldn't hide, eyes filled with vigilance and a deeper worry.

Then he slowly leaned back in his chair and closed his laptop.

The screen went completely black.

The storage room was once again illuminated by the cold white light of the emergency lights.

Gu Xidong sat in the light, like a statue that had just thawed from ice, but had become colder than ice.

He was silent for a long time.

A full five minutes.

Then he spoke.

The voice was calm.

The calmness sent a chill down Ling Wuwen's spine.

5

"I won't risk my life."

Gu Xidong said.

He raised his hand and gently stroked the blade of the ice pick on the table. The movement was slow and tender, as if he were caressing a lover's face.

"It's too easy on them to risk their lives."

His gaze turned to Ling Wuwen, and for the first time, a glimmer of light ignited in the darkness of his eyes.

A cold, sharp, blood-tinged flame.

What is Chen Guodong most proud of? It is his status as an ISU referee, his reputation as the "godfather of Chinese figure skating," and his hypocritical mask of "fairness and impartiality."

What is Master Zhang most proud of? It is his reputation for "gold-medal guarantee" technical skills and everyone's trust in his "diligence".

A slow smile curved Gu Xidong's lips.

That wasn't a smile.

It is a declaration.

"I will crush them, bit by bit, in their most prized territory," he said, each word like an ice pick cutting into ice.

He stood up and walked to the dusty, broken mirror in the storage room.

The person in the mirror was dressed in tattered clothes, had a pale face, and a slight limp in his left leg.

But those eyes shone like a fire-quenched knife.

"Isn't Chen Guodong trying to ruin my reputation in a 'public trial'?"

Gu Xidong looked at himself in the mirror and said softly:

"Then I'll give him an even grander 'public trial'."

"I want to get back on the international stage."

"I want to perform a jump in a game off the cue he's officiating, a jump so perfect that it renders all his schemes a joke—"

He paused, then uttered the last two words:

"Surround jump".

Outside the mirror, Ling Wuwen's body suddenly trembled.

As she watched Gu Xidong's retreating figure and saw the burning eyes reflected in the mirror, she felt a pang of fear for the first time.

It's not fear.

It's something more complex, a mixture of shock, worry, and a kind of almost desperate expectation.

This man was not crushed by the truth.

He swallowed it and digested it into fuel.

Then, he set himself on fire.

"Ling Wuwen," Gu Xidong turned around and looked at her, "show me the fourth segment of the USB drive when I get my ticket to the next international competition."

His eyes were sharp as knives:

"Before that—"

"Turn me into a weapon."