Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

The VIP box area of ​​the Moscow Gymnasium is located on the north side of the building, with a cantilevered structure and a full glass curtain wall overlooking the ice rink.

Looking down from the VIP box, the athletes appear like chess pieces sliding on a transparent chessboard.

Ling Wuwen was currently positioned below the chessboard.

She huddled in the corner of the ventilation duct, the dim light from the tablet illuminating her chin.

The screen displays a 3D scan of the private room area—Ye Shen's private room number "07" is located at the end of the corridor, with no adjacent rooms on either side.

Independent fresh air system, independent power supply line, independent signal shielding layer.

Raven hacked into the security database and retrieved the surveillance logs from the past 72 hours.

Box 07 has only three recorded door openings:

Two days ago, Ye Shen entered with two assistants; yesterday afternoon, Ye Shen entered alone; at 3 a.m. this morning, three men in dark suits entered and have not yet come out.

"The guard shift change time is uncertain," Raven's voice came through the bone conduction headset.

"But the party starts at 7:30, and Ye Shen must leave no later than 7:25. According to his habit, he will leave with at least two attendants."

Ling Wuwen calculated: "If the three people who went in at dawn were all guards, then after Ye Shen left, at most one person would be left in the private room."

"They might take everything, leaving the private room empty."

"He won't take that risk." Ling Wuwen zoomed in on the scan, his fingertip pointing to the red dot inside the private room.

"There are biometric sensors below the main control panel. The system will automatically lock and sound an alarm if the number of living individuals in the compartment falls below a set threshold."

What is the set value?

"At least two people. So when Ye Shen left, he had to leave at least two guards behind—but only three went in at dawn. If one of them was a technician, then there were actually only two guards. Ye Shen took one with him and left one behind, which just triggered the alarm."

"So he'll definitely take two with him and leave one behind," Raven chimed in. "But that would violate his own security policy: he must have at least two bodyguards."

Ling Wuwen retrieved Ye Shen's past records.

This man is extremely controlling; all his schedules follow a fixed pattern.

Their convoy always consists of three vehicles, their residences always have double security, and they always have at least two bodyguards.

However, the sensor settings for the private room are also set for two people.

contradiction.

unless……

Ling Wuwen suddenly sat up straight.

She switched the scan to thermal imaging mode, which revealed the distribution of heat sources inside the private room.

The outlines of the three adults are clear, but in addition, there is a fourth heat source—smaller, stationary, located behind a corner display cabinet.

It's not a person. It's an animal.

"He has a dog," Ling Wuwen said.

"Large dogs have obvious body heat characteristics. A dog is considered half a living being, and with a guard, the sensor registers it as '1.5 units,' so the system won't alarm. However, Ye Shen can take two guards with him when he leaves—the dog and the guards together make 'two units,' which aligns with his security principles and also satisfies the sensor settings."

"Clever. So there were actually four 'guards' in the box: three bodyguards and a dog."

"Now there's only one question left: Will the dog attack the intruder?"

"It depends on the breed. Ye Shen's file mentions that he owned a Caucasian Shepherd Dog in his childhood, which later died of old age."

Caucasian Shepherd Dog.

They have a strong protective instinct and are highly aggressive in unfamiliar environments.

Ling Wuwen took out a small metal box from his leg pouch. Inside were two syringes, one labeled "Sedative" and the other "Inducing Agent".

"A dog's weakness is its sense of smell," she said.

"Too much anesthetic gas will alert it, but if it's a familiar scent mixed with a trace of sedative..."

"Have you prepared a sample of Ye Shen's scent?"

"The towel he used in the lounge three days ago." Ling Wuwen injected the inducer into the sprayer.

"Mix a sedative into his scent, and the dog will think its owner has returned. Wait until it gets close, then give it another injection."

"The window of opportunity is very short. The party starts at 7:30, and you must complete your infiltration between 7:25 and 7:35."

"enough."

Ling Wuwen turned off the tablet and checked the equipment.

The package included an electromagnetic pulse detonator, a signal jammer, miniature cutting tools, and an ice blade—not the blade from the skates, but a custom-made short blade, fifteen centimeters long, with a curve that fits the palm of the hand. The handle was engraved with the Russian words "Icebreaker."

This is one of the things she left for Gu Xidong in the locker.

There's something else she hasn't told the raven yet.

2

7:03 PM.

Ling Wuwen emerged from the ventilation duct and landed in the cleaning tool room in the corridor of the private room area.

She changed into her waitress uniform—a black vest, a white shirt, and dark trousers, with the name tag she had secretly photographed three days earlier pinned to her chest.

She pushed the cleaning cart out of the tool shed.

The corridor was carpeted in dark blue, and the doors to the private rooms on both sides were tightly closed.

Box 07 was at the far end, and a guard stood outside the door.

A new face, young, with perfect posture but shifty eyes.

Ling Wuwen pushed the cart closer.

"Cleaning will take place after the game," the guard gestured.

"The supervisor said that VIP room 07 needs special handling." Ling Wuwen handed over the electronic work order, the screen displaying the supervisor's signature and a red "Urgent" label.

"A guest reported an odor from the fresh air system and indicated that the filter needs to be replaced."

The guard glanced at the work order and then looked her over.

Ling Wuwen kept his gaze down, his right hand resting naturally on the cleaning cart—only ten centimeters from where the ice blades were hidden.

"Wait until the people inside come out before going in."

"The work order requires completion before 7:10."

"That's your problem."

Ling Wuwen nodded, pushed the cart backward, and stopped next to the emergency light box in the middle of the corridor. He glanced at the door of VIP room number 07.

At 7:07, the door opened.

Ye Shen walked out.

In the archive photos, he always appears in a suit and tie with a serious expression, but in front of us, he is wearing a dark gray cashmere cardigan, frameless glasses, and holding a tablet computer, giving him the air of a university professor.

He was followed by two guards.

One of them was leading a Caucasian Shepherd Dog, which was nearly 70 centimeters tall at the shoulder and had gray and white fur.

The dog paused for half a second as it passed Ling Wuwen, its nostrils flaring. Ling Wuwen held his breath and gripped the ice blade tightly in his right hand.

But the dog didn't bark.

It merely glanced at her sideways, its amber eyes reflecting the corridor lights, before continuing to follow Ye Shen toward the elevator.

The remaining guards closed the door and returned to their original positions.

Ling Wuwen counted his heartbeats, and thirty seconds later, he pushed the cart back to the door of VIP room 07.

"They've left. Can we go in now?"

The guard frowned:

"I said the cleaning time would be after the game."

"The odor issue may affect the VIP viewing experience. If there are post-match complaints, the responsibility will fall on the security department—it's stated in the work order notes." Ling Wuwen scrolled to the bottom, where there was a line of small print: "In case of obstruction, contact Security Supervisor Ivanov."

The guard looked conflicted, then stepped aside after two seconds: "Ten minutes. I'm keeping an eye on the time."

"Thanks."

Ling Wuwen swiped his card to open the door and entered the private room.

The private room was more spacious than she had imagined.

A circular sofa surrounds a glass coffee table, and facing the ice rink is a floor-to-ceiling glass wall with a control console embedded below, displaying real-time monitoring of various areas of the venue.

But her attention was immediately drawn to the corner.

There stood a Chinese-style screen, its silk surface embroidered with cranes and pine trees.

On the carpet in front of the screen, there was a silver metal box.

The box is about 30 centimeters square, with no seams on the surface, except for a fingerprint recognition panel on the top.

A label with handwritten Russian text on the side reads: "Container 01 - Initial Sample".

Ling Wuwen's heart skipped a beat.

She approached, squatted down, pulled out a miniature endoscope, and inserted the lens into a narrow slit on the side of the box.

The footage transmitted through the camera made her stop breathing.

The box was lined with black velvet, and a glass tube was fixed in the center.

A dark red tissue sample was suspended inside the tube, with a label affixed to the tube wall: "Skeletal muscle section—Gu Xidong, No. 01"

Below the sample was a folded document. Ling Wuwen adjusted the focus and barely managed to make out the title:

"Phase One Report of the Gu Raising Project: A Study on the Correlation between Pain Tolerance Threshold and Consciousness Stability"

She moved the camera, and the core conclusion was clear:

The experiment tested the upper limit of the time subjects could maintain their decision-making ability while in severe pain through extreme training and drug intervention.

Ninety-nine percent of the participants experienced cognitive impairment when the pain reached level eight, but participant number 01—

Gu Xidong – He can still complete complex commands even when the pain level reaches 9.5.

The last page of the report contains handwritten notes:

"Sample 01 demonstrates that human consciousness may undergo a 'leap' under extreme pain, resulting in extraordinary decision-making abilities. This state cannot be maintained indefinitely; the sample showed permanent neural damage after three hours. However, the leap itself is the key we need."

key.

Ling Wuwen recalled that three years ago in the laboratory, his daughter was called "the key".

Now Gu Xidong is also a key.

She pulled the endoscope back, her hands trembling.

It wasn't fear, it was anger—a cold, sharp anger, like an ice dagger hidden in her sleeve.

A notification sound suddenly came from the console.

Ling Wuwen turned around.

The monitor screen automatically switched feeds, displaying live video of the elevator interior: Ye Shen and two guards were returning. The floor number ticked up and down, from "3" to "4", then to "5"—

The party ended early.

3

7:31.

Ling Wuwen has less than two minutes left.

She lunged at the console and inserted the data extractor.

A progress bar pops up, showing 10%, 30%, and 70%.

The elevator arrival announcement sounded.

Footsteps sounded outside the private room; there were at least five, not just three. Ye Shen was speaking, his tone smiling, as if he were seeing off other VIPs.

The progress bar has reached 85%.

Ling Wuwen unplugged the data extractor and rushed towards the cleaning truck.

She lifted the bottom partition, crawled inside, pulled the partition back, leaving only a small gap to observe.

The door opened.

Ye Shen walked in, followed by two guards and the Caucasian Shepherd Dog.

The dog pricked up its ears as soon as it entered the door, went straight to the cleaning cart, and pressed its nose almost against the gap in the partition, letting in its warm, humid breath.

"Sol, come here."

The dog hesitated for a second, then turned and ran back to its owner.

Ye Shen patted the dog's head, walked to the screen, squatted down, and examined the metal box.

"Someone has tampered with it," he said.

The guards immediately drew their guns. One checked the corner, while the other walked towards the cleaning truck.

Ling Wuwen held his breath under the partition.

She saw the guard's leather shoes stop about twenty centimeters ahead, his finger pointing to the edge of the partition—

A piercing alarm suddenly sounded on the console. All screens turned red, and a Russian warning scrolled: "Unauthorized data access detected!"

The guard turned to look at the control panel.

In that split second, Ling Wuwen pushed aside the partition and leaped out, the hilt of his ice blade striking the guard hard on the back of the neck. The guard groaned and fell to the ground.

Another guard raised his gun, but the dog was faster than him.

The Caucasian Shepherd lunged at Ling Wuwen, but she dodged to the side and simultaneously pressed the spray button.

The inducer mixed with sedative was sprayed on the dog's face, and the dog's movements were delayed for half a second—enough time for her to insert a second syringe into the side of its neck.

The dog collapsed to the ground.

The remaining guards pointed their guns at her.

Ye Shen raised his hand to stop him: "Wait."

He walked three steps away from Ling Wuwen and looked her over. His gaze swept over her face, her hands, and the ice blade she was holding.

"Ling Wuwen." Ye Shen smiled.

"I've always wondered what our first meeting would be like. I never imagined it would be in my private room, and in this way."

"Give me back the painting."

"A drawing? Oh, your daughter's." Ye Shen took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it—it was the child's drawing of three people holding hands on ice. He ran his fingertips over the crayon marks.

"A very heartwarming work. It's unlike you, and unlike Gu Xidong. Your worlds were so cold, yet you managed to produce such a warm-hearted child."

"Give it back to me."

"Okay." Ye Shen placed the painting on the coffee table, "but you need to answer one question for me."

"What?"

"Three years ago, when Gu Xidong unplugged those data cables in the lab, his pain level was at least level nine. According to my research, that level of pain would destroy most people's consciousness, but he completed the entire sequence of actions—picking up the child, running away, and even performing first aid on the street. Why?"

Ling Wuwen stared at him: "Because he is my father."

"No." Ye Shen shook his head.

"Being a father isn't enough to withstand the collapse of the nervous system. That's the physiological limit, not something willpower can overcome. Unless..."

He took a step closer, lowering his voice:

"Unless his consciousness underwent a 'leap' at that moment. As I wrote in my research report, in extremely rare cases, the brain activates some kind of hidden protocol during extreme pain, temporarily breaking through physiological limitations. The cost is subsequent permanent damage—like his knee now, which isn't an old injury, but an outward manifestation of nerve damage."

Ling Wuwen gripped his ice blade even tighter.

What do you want to say?

"I want to say," Ye Shen smiled,

"Gu Xidong may be the first individual in human history to naturally experience a leap in consciousness. And your daughter is the first individual whose leap ability has been stabilized through gene editing. Your family of three forms a perfect experimental closed loop: the original sample, the optimized sample, and..."

He paused, his gaze falling on Ling Wuwen's abdomen:

"And potentially, the next generation of samples."

Ling Wuwen's blood froze.

She recalled the unusual fatigue she had experienced over the past few months, her delayed period, and the hesitant expressions on the faces of the medical team.

She always thought it was because of too much pressure and didn't dare to think about it too deeply.

But Ye Shen knew. He had been monitoring them all along.

"You're pregnant, Ling Wuwen."

"Ye Shen's voice was as gentle as a viper's hiss, "About eight weeks. The child is healthy; genetic testing shows he inherited traits from both his father and sister."

The ice blade slipped from Ling Wuwen's hand and fell onto the carpet without making a sound.

She looked down at her abdomen.

Beneath her uniform vest, her abdomen appeared flat as usual. But there, a new life had indeed begun, unbeknownst to her, while she was fully preparing for this decisive battle.

"Now you understand." Ye Shen picked up the ice skate and handed it back to her.

"This competition has never been just about revealing the truth, nor about revenge. It's a selection process. I want to see what kind of 'leap potential' your family can unleash under extreme pressure."

He walked back to the console and pressed a button.

The floor-to-ceiling windows of the private box suddenly transformed into a transparent display screen, switching the view to the ice rink.

Gu Xidong was warming up on the sidelines, his left knee wrapped in a thick bandage.

As the camera zooms in, you can see the sweat on his forehead and that familiar, resolute light in his eyes.

"The performance starts at 8:15," Ye Shen said. "Before that, you have two choices."

Ling Wuwen looked up.

"First, kill me now, but I'll activate the venue's emergency procedures beforehand. Anesthesia gas will be released into the stands, rendering everyone unconscious, including Gu Xidong. Then my men will take him and the child in your womb for further research."

"And the second one?"

"Secondly, you do nothing. Let the competition proceed as normal, let Gu Xidong finish his performance. I will keep my promise and paint the original for him after the performance. Then your family can leave—of course, I will send someone to 'protect' you and ensure the safe growth of the next generation of models."

Ye Shen smiled:

"Choose, Ling Wuwen. For your husband, for your daughter, for your unborn child. And for yourself—do you want to be a savior, or a mother?"

The private room fell silent.

Only the console screen flickers, and the countdown timer ticks:

There are 43 minutes left before the free skate performance begins.

Ling Wuwen looked at the child's drawing on the coffee table. The red crayon outlined three hands, tightly clasped together.

She bent down and picked up the ice skate.

The inscription on the hilt rests against the palm: "The Icebreaker".