Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

At 3:47 a.m., the cold light from the monitor screen reflected in Gu Xidong's sore eyes.

The raven's mechanical prosthetic eye blinked rhythmically in the darkness.

"Should we deal with Dr. Wang?" Raven's voice was as soft as a scalpel.

Gu Xidong turned off the screen.

Dr. Wang's words, "The bonus will be transferred to your old account," still resonate in his mind.

"Keep monitoring him, don't touch him," he said. "We need doctors. He's essential until we find a replacement."

"You're gambling."

"We've been gambling all along." Gu Xidong walked towards the ice rink.

"I'm betting that Ling Wuwen will come back, I'm betting that my legs can hold up, and I'm betting that we can learn a dance right under the noses of those bastards."

He pushed open the door, and a cold white light rushed out.

"Now, it's just adding another gamble." He turned around.

"I'm betting that the person who saved us once won't kill us a second time."

2

Ling Wuwen was already in the center of the ice rink. His right hand was in a cast, his left hand was holding onto the railing, and he was practicing his balance on one leg.

"Synchronize the twisting steps," she commanded.

"You do the women's steps, I'll do the men's step variations. We'll keep the same speed and look at each other the whole time."

Gu Xidong frowned: "You're supporting yourself with one hand—"

"That's why you need to practice," Ling Wuwen interrupted him, his face pale.

"Fifty-three days from now, you'll either be on the field or lying in your grave."

The two slid to opposite ends.

"Three, two, one—"

Ling Wuwen's speed was fluid and precise, carrying Ling Wufeng's unique aggressiveness.

Gu Xidong leaped. He executed a feminine spin, tightening his body mid-air—

One week. In his line of sight, Ling Wuwen rotated in sync.

Two weeks. He leaned slightly forward, habitually adjusting his posture.

Three weeks —

The moment she landed on the ice, Ling Wuwen's ice skates scraped with a piercing, sharp sound. Lacking strength in her left leg, she lost control and crashed into the railing.

Gu Xidong instinctively stopped her, supporting her waist with both hands.

Muscle memory is faster than thinking.

But Ling Wuwen's body instantly stiffened, his body convulsing defensively. Her fingernails dug into his wrist, and her breathing stopped.

Gu Xidong gritted his teeth and steadied himself. His ice skates scraped long marks on the ice, and he slid for seven or eight meters before stopping.

When they stopped, the two were very close to each other.

Gu Xidong's palm left a rough, uneven scar on the right side of her waist—a burn, like old tree bark.

Ling Wuwen shoved him away abruptly, took two steps back, and clutched his waist tightly with his left hand.

"Don't touch there."

"What kind of injury is that?"

"Old wound."

Gu Xidong recalled Dr. Wang's words: "Was it the injury your mother sustained when she carried him?"

"Shut up!" Ling Wuwen's eyes were bloodshot. "My affairs are none of your business!"

"Our business!" Gu Xidong's suppressed anger exploded.

"You asked me to be your partner, yet you won't even tell me the origin of your scar? Ling Wuwen, who exactly are you?"

Before he could finish speaking, a slap landed on his face.

Burning pain.

"Who am I?" Ling Wuwen asked, each word distinct and his voice as cold as frozen earth.

"I'm the person who died on the ice rink three years ago, the person whose bones were shattered and reassembled!"

She took a step closer.

"The scar on my waist is from a gas explosion when I was thirteen. My mother suffered third-degree burns on her entire back while protecting me and Wufeng. The scar runs from her spine to her side, and she can no longer wear backless dresses, go to the pool, or let anyone see it—because people will ask questions, pity her, and remind her of how big and painful that fire was."

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her emotions had been suppressed beneath a layer of ice.

"Keep training," she said. "The problem was with your takeoff angle."

Gu Xidong watched her retreating figure, then slid past her.

"Okay," he said, "again."

3

In the afternoon, underwater training was conducted.

The water tank was expanded, and the water depth was three meters. Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen stood facing each other, their heads submerged in the water.

"First group, synchronized squat rotations," Ling Wuwen said.

"Keep eye contact, begin."

The two squatted down, and the water pressure surged in.

Rotation begins.

Gu Xidong suddenly experienced a cramp in his left calf, causing his body to tilt.

Ling Wuwen immediately placed his left hand on his waist, precisely pressing on the muscle nodes.

The severe pain was relieved.

Five revolutions. Six revolutions. Seven revolutions. The tachometer stabilized at 125 revolutions per minute.

"stop."

Gu Xidong surfaced: "How did you know—"

"Your micro-expressions when you have a cramp are exactly the same as Wufeng's." Ling Wuwen wiped his face.

"He also gets cramps in his left calf easily, and he always bites the right corner of his mouth. You just bit it too."

"Second group. Underwater lift simulation. I'll provide support, you relax." Ling Wuwen looked at him. "Do you dare, Gu Xidong? Do you dare entrust your life to this hand that can still move?"

Gu Xidong nodded.

"dare."

He sank into the water, his back to her.

Ling Wuwen placed his left hand on his lower back.

"Relax. Imagine you are a bag of sand."

Gu Xidong closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax.

Ling Wuwen tapped his lower back twice with his fingers.

Short and long.

Morse code: Trust me.

Gu Xidong's heart skipped a beat.

He exhaled, completely relaxing.

Ling Wuwen exerted force with his palm and steadily lifted him up.

She moved underwater, gliding forward, making small turns, and then slowly sinking down to put him back on the bottom.

Gu Xidong turned around and saw that her eyes, hidden beneath her bangs, were surprisingly bright.

"One more time," she said.

"This time, try doing a spin in the air."

"Your hand—"

"It can be done," Ling Wuwen interrupted him.

"75% of the force, combined with buoyancy, is enough. What we're training isn't traditional lifts, but synchronized double rotations—you rotate in the air, I rotate underwater, with our axes aligned."

She looked at him.

"This is the dance we're meant to perform. Two broken people, using broken methods, piecing together a complete set of movements."

Gu Xidong nodded.

"it is good."

As Gu Xidong was lifted up again and spun in the air, he saw Ling Wuwen spinning underwater as well—

He paddles with one hand, his body as stable as a spinning top.

Their rotation speeds were miraculously synchronized by the resistance of the water flow.

When it fell back into her hand, Gu Xidong felt the trembling of her left hand.

But she caught him steadily.

4

Training ended at 8 PM.

After examining the patient, Dr. Wang said, "The cast on your wrist is fine, but your left hand is overused and your old lower back injury is inflamed. You'll need an anti-inflammatory injection tonight."

When the needle pierced Ling Wuwen's waist, her body tensed slightly.

Gu Xidong suddenly spoke up: "Doctor, do you know how Ling Wuwen got the scar on his waist?"

Dr. Wang turned around: "Didn't she say it? A gas explosion at age thirteen."

"But don't you find it strange?" Gu Xidong stared at him.

"If it were truly an old injury from when she was thirteen, the scar tissue should have stabilized. But her reaction just now was so strong—it must be a new injury, or a recent tear."

Dr. Wang's fingers tightened slightly as he gripped the medical tray.

"Scarred tissue may become inflamed again under extreme stress," he said calmly.

"Really?" Gu Xidong took a step forward.

"Can you explain why the shape of the scar on her waist is almost identical to the photo of her mother Lin Jing's burns on her back that you showed me this morning?"

Dead silence.

Ling Wuwen opened his eyes and looked at Gu Xidong.

Dr. Wang remained silent for a long time.

"You're quite observant."

"I should be more careful," Gu Xidong said.

"After all, every minute we live now could be the moment we die because we're not careful enough."

Dr. Wang walked to the filing cabinet, entered the password, and pulled out a thin folder.

"The record of Ling Wuwen's last major surgery in Germany," he said. "Skin graft."

Gu Xidong opened it.

Page 1: Preoperative photo: Ling Wuwen's waist, with a large area of ​​fresh burns.

Page 2 of the surgical record: Skin graft site – back.

Donor – Lin Jing (deceased). Note: The deceased signed a skin donation agreement before her death, specifying that the skin would be used for scar repair for her daughter, Ling Wuwen.

Page 3 Post-operative photo: The waist is covered with new skin bearing the old scars—skin taken from Lin Jing's back.

Gu Xidong's fingers trembled.

"So... the scar on her waist is both hers and her mother's. Her mother's skin, with the old scar, was transplanted onto her..."

"This is what she requested," Dr. Wang said softly.

"She said that this way her mother could continue to protect her, just like she did when she was thirteen and shielded her from the flames."

Gu Xidong looked at Ling Wuwen.

Tears welled in her eyes and silently streamed down her cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

Ling Wuwen opened his eyes; they were bloodshot and tearless.

"Tell you what?" her voice was hoarse.

"Will you tell me I'm wearing my mother's skin? Will you tell me that every time I touch that spot, I can feel how much pain she was in back then? Will you tell me that this scar connects to two lives—one died in fire, and the other died on ice?"

She stood up, her movements unsteady due to the pain in her lower back, but she managed to regain her balance.

"Gu Xidong, we both carry burdens. You carry the death of Ling Wufeng, and I carry the lives of two people. We don't need to explain the origins of our scars; we just need to—"

She took a deep breath.

"—Just remember why you're still standing here."

She walked out of the treatment room.

Dr. Wang followed and turned back at the door.

"By the way," he said, "the recovery data for your left leg that I reported to them was false. The actual progress is 82%, not 75%."

Gu Xidong was stunned.

"Because if they know you're recovering too quickly, they'll act prematurely," Dr. Wang smiled. "And right now, we need time."

He closed the door.

Gu Xidong stood still, listening to the hum of the refrigeration equipment on the ice rink in the distance.

Outside the window, three hundred meters from the warehouse, four black SUVs were quietly parked in the night.

5

Two o'clock in the morning.

Gu Xidong couldn't sleep, so he went to the ice rink.

Ling Wuwen was already there. Barefoot, frail.

The cast on her right hand was removed—it was pried off with an ice pick. The cast crumbled at her feet, revealing her swollen, purple wrist.

She held a sharp ice blade in her left hand and slid it across the ice.

It's not a movement trajectory.

It is a name.

Gu Xidong approached and saw clearly:

"Lin Jingling, Wufeng, Ling Wuwen"

Three names, listed side by side.

Resembles a tombstone.

Ling Wuwen opened his eyes and looked at him.

"I've been thinking about it," she began.

"If we lose and die here, who will remember us?"

Gu Xidong remained silent.

Ling Wuwen raised the ice blade, its tip hovering above his left wrist.

"So I've made up my mind," she said.

"If we must die, then at least I want to carve these three names somewhere. On the ice, on the wall, in the eyes of those who kill us."

The blade turned, pointing at Gu Xidong.

"And what you have to do is make sure we don't die in vain."

She smiled, a faint smile, tinged with the smell of blood.

"If they break in tomorrow night, I need you to promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"If I'm going to die," she said.

"You will use this ice blade to kill me with your own hands."

"Then, with my blood, on that wall—"

She pointed to the concrete wall at the warehouse entrance.

"—Write down these four names."

Gu Xidong looked at her, at the knife, and at the three names on the ice.

"it is good."

"But the conditions are the same."

Ling Wuwen raised an eyebrow.

"If I am to die," Gu Xidong said, "you must use this knife to kill me with your own hands."

The two stared at each other in the center of the ice rink.

The cold light was like a knife.

The knife is like a vow.

Outside the window, the night grew even deeper.

Inside the four black SUVs, someone got out, walked to the roadside, and lit a cigarette.

The red glow of the cigarette butt flashed in the darkness.

Like a signal.

It looks like a countdown.

The last hour.