Chapter One: The Zero-Degree Line

Behind him stood an iron door marked with a silver ring. He clutched his throat, black-red blood spilling between his fingers, and pressed a wet hand against an access panel. The display read 21:47. “There's someone under the ice,” the man rasped toward a person who was not there. Then the lights died. When the arena returned, the game was over. The clock on the wall read 21:35. At the press conference, reporters called the goal divine. Shen only said he had seen the empty net. Everyone laughed except team physician Lin Wu, standing in the back row. She stopped him outside the locker room. “Uneven pupil response. You were absent for twelve seconds.” “The lights were bright.” “You touch your left wrist when you lie.”