Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

There was a knock on the door. Three knocks, a pause, then three more knocks.

Zhou Wentao's voice came through the door, gentle as if inviting a friend for tea:

"Gu Xidong, open the door. We mean no harm, we just want to talk about that list."

Gu Xidong leaned against the cold wall, meeting Ling Wuwen's gaze.

Her eyes gleamed coldly in the darkness, her fingers already reaching for her waist—where a tactical pen with a blade that could be extended was hidden.

Zhao Xun crouched behind the bar, his breathing extremely low, his hand reaching towards the bottom of the counter.

"I know you're inside," Zhou Wentao said with a smile.

"Boss Zhao gets his produce delivered every Thursday morning at 8:30 sharp. Today the delivery truck didn't come, but the shop was open. This doesn't make sense."

Gu Xidong's palms were sweating. The surveillance had lasted for three years.

"There are three of us," Ling Wuwen said, using lip-reading to make tactical hand gestures.

Gu Xidong shook his head.

If Zhou Wentao dared to knock on the door directly, there was definitely more than one person outside. Forcing his way in would be suicide.

"The list isn't with me," he said to the door, his voice steady.

A relaxed laugh came from outside the door:

"If it's not with you, where is it? Ling Wufeng left it with you, right? The piece you just played... 'The Swan'? I really miss it."

Gu Xidong's heart skipped a beat. How long had they been listening outside?

"Let's go in and talk," Zhou Wentao said.

"I assure you, this is just a conversation. You have what I want, and I have what you want. How about a deal?"

"What kind of deal?" Ling Wuwen asked, picking up the conversation.

"The list is for security." Zhou Wentao said seriously.

"Hand over the list and all copies, and I guarantee you'll leave safely, with new identities and new lives. What happened three years ago will be wiped clean."

Gu Xidong's lips curled into a cold smile.

Ling Wufeng's life, his shattered career, three years of hell—can he really erase it all with a single sentence like "wipe it all off"?

"There's more than one list. Even if I give it to you, how can you be sure there aren't other backups?"

"So we need to have a serious talk," Zhou Wentao said, his voice close to the crack in the door.

"Open the door. If your brother had opened the door and talked to me sooner, he might not have died."

Those words were like a red-hot knife piercing Gu Xidong's chest.

Ling Wuwen pressed his hand against his wrist, his nails digging into his skin.

She's warning you with her eyes: He's trying to provoke you, don't fall for it.

"I'll give you ten seconds to think it over. Ten, nine—"

Gu Xidong looked at Zhao Xun.

Zhao Xun had already pulled a fire axe from under the counter; the blade gleamed coldly.

He nodded and pointed towards the back kitchen—there was a small courtyard there with a low wall.

"Eight, seven—"

Ling Wuwen moved to the door, placed his hand on the latch, and waited for instructions.

"Six, five—"

Gu Xidong took a deep breath and made an "open" gesture to Ling Wuwen.

"Four--"

Ling Wuwen suddenly pulled open the latch.

"three--"

The roller shutter door rolls upwards.

"two--"

Light streamed in from outside.

Three figures stood backlit; the one in the middle, wearing a dark gray suit and gold-rimmed glasses, was Zhou Wentao.

"one."

Zhou Wentao raised his hand and made a "stop" gesture.

The two men in black jackets behind him stopped drawing their guns.

"A wise choice." Zhou Wentao smiled, his gaze sweeping across the shop, lingering on the piano, and finally landing on Gu Xidong's face. "Three years have passed, and you've changed a lot."

"You're the same. You've aged three years."

Zhou Wentao laughed, he really laughed.

He walked into the shop, his leather shoes clicking crisply on the floor. Two men in black stood guard at the door, which slowly closed behind them.

The store was dimly lit again, with only the glow of the floor lamp.

"Boss Zhao," Zhou Wentao nodded, "how's business?"

Zhao Xun gripped the fire axe tightly, his knuckles turning white, but he did not answer.

"Relax." Zhou Wentao sat down on the piano bench, his fingers gliding casually across the keys, producing a few disjointed notes.

"I said, it was just a conversation."

He turned to Ling Wuwen, looking him up and down: "This is... Miss Ling? Or should I call you Mr. Ling?"

Ling Wuwen's pupils suddenly contracted.

"The surgery was a success." Zhou Wentao's tone was as if he were commenting on a work of art.

"German technology is indeed advanced. They even adjusted the vocal cords, impressive. However, there are still some traces in the walking posture—the right shoulder unconsciously sags, is that an old injury from Ling Wufeng's training?"

Gu Xidong stepped in front of Ling Wuwen.

Zhou Wentao raised his hand:

"Don't be nervous, I mean no harm. In fact, I admire you guys. Crawling out of the rubble and finding your way here, that's no easy feat."

"The list isn't with us," Gu Xidong repeated.

"I know." Zhou Wentao took a small silver USB drive from his suit pocket and placed it on the piano lid. "Because it's here."

All three of them paused in their breathing.

2

"Ling Wufeng is very smart, but he made a mistake." Zhou Wentao tapped the USB drive casing lightly.

"He stored the backup in an encrypted folder on the national team's intranet, thinking no one could find it. Unfortunately, the intranet's security chief... was one of my people."

Gu Xidong felt the ground beneath his feet shaking.

"Three years ago, on the night the competition ended, I obtained all the backups," Zhou Wentao said calmly.

"Seven emails, seven recipients. All successfully intercepted. The protective charm that Ling Wufeng thought he had was never sent."

"Then why did you still kill him?" Gu Xidong's voice was squeezed out through clenched teeth.

Zhou Wentao remained silent for a few seconds.

"Because his 'backup' isn't the only threat." He took off his glasses and wiped them, the movement elegant.

"He saw something he shouldn't have seen—the true meaning of that list. It wasn't just an ordinary list of bribes, it was..."

He paused, put his glasses back on, and his eyes behind the lenses were unfathomable.

"Forget it, there's no point in saying all this. The important thing is that I have the list now. And you, you have what I need."

"We have nothing," Ling Wuwen said.

"Yes." Zhou Wentao's gaze fell on Gu Xidong's face.

"The password Ling Wufeng left you, and the coordinates that were finally deciphered. Tell me that location, and I'll give you the USB drive. It contains not only the list, but also all the original data that was altered three years ago, financial records, and... Chen Guodong's confession recording."

Gu Xidong's heart pounded. The recorded confession. Ironclad evidence.

"Why are you giving it to us?" Ling Wuwen asked warily.

"Because Chen Guodong is no longer useful," Zhou Wentao said casually.

"He's gotten too greedy lately, wanting more. And you... are better pawns. Use this evidence to bring him down, you'll get your revenge, and I'll get rid of the disobedient partner—a win-win situation."

"And then we'll become your new partners?" Gu Xidong sneered.

"No, and then you disappear," Zhou Wentao said.

"Go abroad, change your identity, and start skating again. You're still young, you have a future. Why get entangled with a bunch of old men until you die?"

His words were like honey wrapped around poison.

Gu Xidong stared at the USB drive. Three years of searching had finally yielded the answer.

Ling Wuwen gently wrote a single word on his back with his finger: Wait.

"We need to consider it," Gu Xidong said.

"What are you considering?" Zhou Wentao frowned.

"This is your only chance. I have men outside the door, and the entire alley is under surveillance. You can't escape. Cooperate, live; refuse, die. The choice is simple."

"Give me five minutes," Gu Xidong said, "to be alone for a while."

Zhou Wentao stared at him for a long time before nodding: "Okay. Five minutes."

He got up and walked towards the door, giving the two men in black a meaningful look.

The three men left the shop and pulled down the roller shutter, but left a ten-centimeter gap—a gesture of surveillance.

The store returned to silence.

3

Zhao Xun lowered his voice: "Don't trust him. The USB drive might be empty, or it might have a virus."

"I know," Gu Xidong said, his eyes fixed on the silver USB drive.

Ling Wuwen walked to the kitchen door to observe the courtyard, then turned back and shook his head—there were at least two people guarding the courtyard.

"What is he waiting for?" Ling Wuwen murmured.

"If you really wanted to make a deal, why bring so many people? If you really wanted to kill us, why waste your breath?"

A thought flashed through Gu Xidong's mind.

"He's not here to make a deal," he whispered. "He's here to confirm something."

"Confirm what?"

"I need to confirm exactly what Ling Wufeng left me." Gu Xidong's thoughts became clearer and clearer.

"He doesn't know what the code has revealed. He's testing us, trying to see if we'll reveal the coordinates. Once we do, he'll know the place really exists, and then..."

"Then they rushed ahead of us and took the things inside," Ling Wuwen continued.

Zhao Xun gripped the fire axe tightly: "So what do we do now?"

Gu Xidong looked at the clock on the wall.

8:41 AM. The morning light squeezed in through the crack in the door, cutting a thin line across the floor.

"Buy time," he said. "Wait."

"What are you waiting for?"

Gu Xidong did not answer.

His gaze fell on the sheet music on the piano, Ling Wufeng's handwriting gleaming in the morning light.

Brother, save my life.

That wasn't the cry for help from three years ago.

This is the current instruction.

Zhou Wentao's voice came from outside the door: "Two minutes left."

Gu Xidong closed his eyes.

He replayed each step of cracking the code in his mind. Musical notes, letters, tones, shapes... Ling Wufeng's codes were never just one layer deep.

and many more.

shape.

The curve of a swan's neck, rotated 90 degrees, produces the letters: G, I, A, G, D, N.

But there is another way to read it—read it in the opposite direction of the curve.

Starting from the bottom N, going upwards against the curve: N, D, G, A, I, G.

Gu Xidong picked up his pen and quickly wrote NDGAIG in the blank space of the sheet music.

Pinyin: N=你 (you), D=的 (of), G=哥 (brother), A=啊 (ah), I=一 (one), G=哥 (brother). This doesn't make sense.

Play at a faster speed. Tone combination: N (third tone), D (neutral tone), G (fourth tone), A (neutral tone), I (first tone), G (fourth tone).

The recordings accelerated, overlapped, and distorted in my mind...

"Your brother, one..."

The sentence is incomplete. What is missing?

Gu Xidong stared at the six letters. What if each letter represented a coordinate number? A=1, B=2...G=7, N=14, D=4, I=9.

Coordinates: (14,4) (7,1) (9,7) Latitude and longitude? Map grid?

"One minute," Zhou Wentao's voice came through, tinged with impatience.

Gu Xidong's forehead was covered in cold sweat.

No, it's not coordinates. Ling Wufeng wouldn't use a password that's so easily cracked.

"Gu Xidong." Ling Wuwen suddenly nudged his arm and pointed to the last page of the sheet music.

There, next to the swan graffiti, is a line of very small printed text—information from the music publisher:

Copyright © People's Music Publishing House, No. XX, Chaoyangmen Inner Street, Dongcheng District, Beijing

Chaoyangmen Inner Street. On that street...

Gu Xidong's memory exploded in a burst of white light.

Thirteen years old.

He and Ling Wufeng went to Beijing for the first time to participate in the national children's group competition. They stayed at a guesthouse near Chaoyangmen.

The night before the competition, the two sneaked out for a stroll. They passed an old music store with a white grand piano displayed in the window.

Ling Wufeng leaned against the shop window and said, "Brother, when we win the world championship, let's buy a piano like this and put it at home."

"Where should I put it? At your house or mine?"

"Let's put it in our house," Ling Wufeng said with a smile. "We'll live together, train together, and play the piano together."

They did eventually rent a small apartment on that street and lived there for six months.

There's a convenience store downstairs in the apartment building. The owner is a retired music teacher who often lets them buy on credit.

The address of that convenience store is...

Gu Xidong picked up his pen and wrote down the number from his memory: No. 47 Chaoyangmen Inner Street.

47. G is the 7th letter, and D is the 4th letter. GD.

The letters on the sheet music: G, D.

His fingers trembled as he circled all the Gs and Ds on the sheet music. The G in the seventh measure, the D in the twenty-second measure, none in the nineteenth measure, the C in the first measure, the G in the fourteenth measure, and again the G in the seventh measure.

G, D, G, G.

Read the four tones together, speeding up—

"Brother, my brother."

"My brother's brother."

Ling Wufeng was calling him. Using the most intimate nickname they had used in their childhood.

Gu Xidong's tears welled up. He covered his mouth.

"Time's up." The roller shutter door begins to rise.

Zhou Wentao walked in, his smile vanishing: "Have you made up your mind?"

Gu Xidong raised his head, tears still on his face, but his eyes were clear and firm.

"The location is No. 47 Chaoyangmen Inner Street, in the locker room of a convenience store," he said.

"The cabinet number is Ling Wufeng's birthday, 0807. The password is the date we won our first national championship, 20151123."

Zhou Wentao stared at him, trying to find traces of deception. Three seconds later, he nodded: "Very good."

He turned to the man in black at the door and said, "Go get it."

The two men quickly left. The roller shutter closed again.

Now, only Zhou Wentao and his opponents remain in the store, locked in a standoff.

"Can I have the USB drive now?" Gu Xidong asked.

Zhou Wentao picked up the USB drive and fiddled with it: "I'll give it to you once I get the data."

Aren't you afraid I'll lie to you?

"You wouldn't dare," Zhou Wentao said with a smile.

"Miss Ling—or rather, Mr. Ling—is still in my hands. My people have already found her surgical records and drug dependence in Germany. Without those drugs, she won't live more than a month. And the entire North China region, the channels that can supply those special drugs... are all under my control."

Ling Wuwen's body stiffened instantly.

Gu Xidong could feel her trembling.

It wasn't fear, it was anger.

"Therefore, the transaction is complete," Zhou Wentao said happily.

"Give me the coordinates, and I'll give you a USB drive and regular medication. Fair."

time flies.

The clock shows nine o'clock.

4

The sound of a car engine, brakes, door opening, and hurried footsteps came from outside.

The roller shutter door was pulled open with a whoosh.

Two men in black rushed in, their hands empty.

"Boss, no! The convenience store closed yesterday; they posted a 'For Sale' sign. We pried open the lockers, and they were empty!"

Zhou Wentao's smile froze.

He slowly turned to Gu Xidong.

Gu Xidong was laughing. Tears still clung to his face, but he laughed heartily.

"You lied to me." Zhou Wentao's voice was as cold as a cold wind.

"No." Gu Xidong wiped away his tears. "The coordinates are real. The locker is real too. It's just... the things were taken away three days ago."

"Who took it?"

Gu Xidong did not answer. His gaze passed over Zhou Wentao and looked towards the shop entrance.

At the entrance of the alley, a hunched figure slowly walked in.

The old man was wearing faded gray overalls and carrying an old black leather suitcase.

shoemaker.

He stopped at the store entrance, raised his cloudy eyes, and looked at Zhou Wentao.

"The things are with me." The shoemaker's voice was hoarse. "Director Zhou, you've aged a lot in three years."

Zhou Wentao's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Zheng... Guoquan?" he uttered the name in disbelief.

The shoemaker, Zheng Guoquan, Gu Xidong's technical coach during his childhood, nodded.

He bent down, placed the black leather suitcase on the ground, and opened it.

There were no molds, no documents, and no evidence inside.

There was only one old-fashioned, military-green hand grenade. A red rope was tied to the pull pin, as vivid as blood in the morning light.

"Before I retired," Zheng Guoquan said calmly, "I spent fifteen years in the military. I know this stuff better than you do."

He gripped the grenade, his thumb resting on the pin.

"Now, let's talk again."

The man in black behind Zhou Wentao pulled out a gun.

Zheng Guoquan smiled. The smile bloomed on his withered face, like a crack opening in parched earth.

"Shoot," he said. "Shoot, and we'll all die together. Don't shoot, and let me finish."

His gaze shifted to Gu Xidong, his eyes filled with complex emotions—concern, apology, and resolve.

"Child," Zheng Guoquan said softly.

"The things your brother left you are not in the locker, nor in the sheet music."

He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately:

"Inside your left knee."

Gu Xidong stopped breathing.

"The surgeon who performed the operation three years ago was my comrade-in-arms. I had him sew a miniature memory chip into the fixation slot of your titanium alloy bracket." Zheng Guoquan's voice was soft, yet it exploded in Gu Xidong's mind like a thunderclap.

"Ling Wufeng's last words, all the evidence, the real list... are inside your body."

He looked at Zhou Wentao, his smile turning sinister:

"You want to take it? You'll have to saw his legs off first."

Morning light bathed the alleyway.

The red string attached to the grenade swayed slightly in the wind.

Zheng Guoquan held that military-green iron lump as if it were his last scepter.

Gu Xidong stood there, feeling a burning sensation deep within his left knee, a place he had thought was just metal and pain, now burning with each heartbeat.