Min Shu led Wei Changchuan to an ice cellar behind the courtyard. This ice cellar was slightly larger than the one used to store food. Min Shu pushed open the door, and a wave of cold immediately swept over the two of them.

The ice cellar was vast and empty; the ice walls glowed blue, and as sunlight streamed in, the shadows of the three of them appeared on the ice.

Wei Changchuan’s pupils contracted slightly as he made out what was inside.

Deep within the ice cellar, an ice sculpture formed from a woman’s frozen corpse sat quietly in the shadows. Her skin, pale and tinged with a faint blue from prolonged freezing, was covered in frost and snow. Two glossy black braids hung down over her chest; her eyes were closed, and a faint smile played at the corners of her mouth. Every strand of hair looked lifelike.

There was a sense of sacredness mingled with the horror of the scene, causing Wei Changchuan—who had seen tens of thousands of corpses—to pause in astonishment for a moment.

However, he quickly regained his composure and gave the body a swift once-over. He saw no obvious external injuries, no signs of poisoning, and the woman’s face was peaceful and serene, showing no signs of struggle.

Relieved, he slipped his hands into his pockets and looked down at Min Shu, who was constantly blowing on his hands to warm them: “What happened?”

Min Shu rubbed his hands together and said, “She was my friend. Her name was Isua. Her family had all left, and she had no one to care for her, so I took her in to live with me.”

Min Shu gazed at the woman’s frozen, benevolent face not far away, his voice dropping slightly. “…She passed away two weeks ago.”

Wei Changchuan hummed in acknowledgment and asked, “Cause of death?”

“Cause of death?” Min Shu thought for a moment, then said uncertainly, “It was probably a natural death… maybe a heart attack?”

Hearing this, Wei Changchuan was completely put at ease. He glanced at Min Shu, who was stamping his feet to keep warm beside him, and even found his earlier self somewhat amusing—the young man probably couldn’t even kill a sturdy chicken, let alone a person.

“Oh, right—” At that moment, Min Shu suddenly realized he hadn’t explained to Wei Changchuan why the body was there. He hurriedly added, “I forgot to tell you, this is an Inuit custom. They don’t practice cremation or burial here.”

Historically, Greenland was covered in perpetual ice and snow, and with a lack of combustible fuel, neither burial nor cremation was practical. Among the Inuit, the common practice was “stone burial,” where the body was placed in a stone coffin made of stacked rocks, with additional heavy stones placed on top to facilitate biological decomposition, or “water burial,” where the body was cast directly into the sea.

Even more common, however, was “ice burial,” in which the body was transported to an ice cave and the entrance sealed with ice blocks. The Inuit believed that ice and snow possessed spirits, and that this practice would help the departed soul enter the cycle of reincarnation.

“The glacier is the ancestral land revered by the townspeople, so I thought I’d send Isua there too.” Min Shu said, “Since we’re heading to the glacier today anyway, I figured I’d just bring her along to save a trip.”

Having lived in town for so many years, Min Shu had witnessed several funerals held by the locals, so he was already accustomed to seeing frozen bodies. It was only then that Min Shu realized his behavior might seem a bit strange to Wei Changchuan. He glanced at the man with a touch of embarrassment:

“Sorry, bro. I forgot to explain it to you beforehand.” Min Shu looked up at Wei Changchuan. “You weren’t scared, were you?”

Wei Changchuan’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he lowered his gaze and looked at the young man. “No.”

Min Shu let out a sigh of relief and immediately praised him: “Bro, you’re so cool!” He replied, “I thought it was a bit scary at first, too, but once I got used to it, I actually found it quite nice.”

A body preserved in ice doesn’t decay; it retains the lifelike appearance the deceased had at the time of death, enduring in this world just like the perpetually frozen glaciers. In a way, it offers solace to the living as well.

Min Shu sighed, “I actually think this method is pretty good now. When I die someday, I’ll just be frozen in the same cave as Isua.”

Hearing this, Wei Changchuan frowned.

Min Shu breathed on his hands and said, “I can’t move the body by myself. Could you—” Just as he was about to ask Wei Changchuan for help, he looked up and saw Wei Changchuan gazing down at him, a hint of displeasure visible in his eyes.

Min Shu froze, realizing Wei Changchuan didn’t seem to like what he’d just said. He hurriedly added, “Bro, I was just joking.”

Wei Changchuan kept his gaze fixed on him, his eyes narrowing slightly.

A chill ran down Min Shu’s spine, and he snapped his hand up in a swearing gesture: “I’ll never say that again.”

Wei Changchuan’s expression finally softened slightly. He raised his hand and patted Min Shu on the shoulder—a gesture that was part comfort, part warning—then walked toward Isua’s body.

Min Shu watched his back, lowered his hand, and let out a soft sigh. He wondered to himself: Wei Changchuan isn’t much older than him, so how come he exudes so much authority? Whenever the man’s face darkened, his heart would tremble. Min Shu suddenly recalled how people online used to describe certain male celebrities as “old cadres.” He thought Wei Changchuan had a bit of that aura—just standing there, he gave off the air of a leader, with an unyielding presence that made people instinctively want to obey him.

Then, as he watched Wei Changchuan carry Isua’s body down from the ice cellar, he thought to himself, “He talks about being buried with Isua, but when he actually dies, it’s not even certain anyone will be around to collect his body.”

Min Shu knew his own body well, and he wasn’t as naive as he appeared on the surface. Once he learned that the outside world had fallen to the plague, Min Shu knew deep down that with his constitution, stepping outside meant certain death. To live a little longer, he had no choice but to stay cooped up on Greenland and pray that the plague would never reach it.

As for Wei Changchuan, he would certainly return to the human base. Once he’d collected the ancient viruses from the glaciers, he’d have to hand them over to the scientists for research, wouldn’t he? At that point, the man would surely leave.

And then he would be alone again.

Min Shu breathed onto his palm, gazing through the misty white vapor at the man’s towering figure. He thought to himself that if all else failed, he’d simply lie down outside the house—given the current climate, it would be a sort of ice burial. As long as the dog didn’t mistake him for an ice pop, he’d be fine.

Just as he was lost in thought, Wei Changchuan carried the body out and glanced at the dazed Min Shu: “What are you thinking about?”

Min Shu looked up and smiled. “Nothing, bro. Let me help you.”

Wei Changchuan stared at him for a moment, saying nothing. Instead, he hoisted the frozen, ice-sculpture-like Isua onto his shoulder and ordered the shivering young man, “Wait inside.”

Then he walked out.

Min Shu couldn’t help but open his mouth and let out a small “Wow.” He looked at the burly Wei Changchuan with a touch of envy, then obediently went into the house to wait.

Wei Changchuan fashioned a makeshift coffin out of planks, placed the body inside, and tied the coffin to the sled in front with ropes. At the front was a cargo compartment filled with goods and secured with iron chains, along with a passenger seat.

To ward off the biting wind during the journey, Min Shu had the passenger seat thickly lined with soft, plush fur. He himself was fully geared up—from his hat to his scarf to his snow-proof coat—wrapped up like a ball, with only his eyes peeking out.

Beside him, Wei Changchuan wore only a crisp, well-fitted military uniform. He held the reins attached to the sled dogs, the shiny badge on his cap glistening in the sunlight.

Min Shu couldn’t help but gaze at him admiringly for a long time, thinking to himself, What a strikingly handsome guy—a stark contrast to his own bulky appearance. He couldn’t resist complimenting him: “My brother is so handsome!” 

Then he picked up the blanket from his lap and draped it over Wei Changchuan’s legs: “Bro, you’re only wearing pants, aren’t you? Be careful not to catch a cold—let me cover you up—”

Wei Changchuan looked at the young man beside him, who was so bundled up that even the slightest movement seemed to be a struggle. In the end, he said nothing and let Min Shu drape the thick blanket over his legs. Once the young man had huffed and puffed his way through the task, he said, “Sit up straight.”

Min Shu immediately leaned back obediently: “Okay.”

The next moment, Wei Changchuan gave a sharp tug on the reins, and the dogs surged forward. Amidst their excited barking, the sled raced across the smooth, vast snowfield.

After several days of continuous blizzards, the snow on the ground was thick and smooth. The sky was azure, and the white snowfield stretched endlessly into the distance.

In the distance, mint-blue icebergs floated in the sea, their crystalline ice refracting the sun’s dazzling light. The scene was beautiful and serene; the raging blizzard seemed to have left no trace on this island, which felt like a secluded paradise.

But as the sled passed by a nearby village, Min Shu immediately noticed that several more houses had collapsed; colorful wooden planks lay buried in the snow, creating a scene of utter chaos.

These houses were unmaintained, and after the blizzard, the weight of the snow piling up on the eaves easily caused them to collapse.

Min Shu squinted against the howling cold wind and instinctively moved closer to Wei Changchuan.

Wei Changchuan steered the sled, his expression unflinching in the biting wind, one hand subtly shielding Min Shu from the elements.

On a clear day with a clear view ahead, they traveled by sled for over an hour before spotting the crystalline glacier in the distance. A faintly blue ice sheet jutted abruptly from the snowfield, resembling a frozen river.

“We’re almost there,” Min Shu whispered.

Wei Changchuan gazed at the ice tongue not far away, his expression somewhat complex. It had taken him a full day and a half to reach this spot. Just as Min Shu had said, it was indeed best to come when the weather was good.

The two drove to the end of the ice tongue—the glacier’s mouth—where the sled could go no further.

Min Shu huffed and puffed as he climbed down from the sled, patting the head of the fluffy Alaskan dog in front of him, who was panting with its tongue hanging out: “Good dog, good dog, such a good boy.” Seeing this, the other dogs all rushed over and surrounded Min Shu, waiting for him to pull out the fish fillets. There was an especially large shipment today, so Min Shu rewarded them with two frozen fish fillets per dog.

The dogs began crunching away at the frozen fish. Min Shu turned around and saw that Wei Changchuan had, at some point, already loaded all the supplies he’d brought onto his back.

He had brought quite a lot of stuff; on Wei Changchuan’s back, it looked like a small mountain, but the man’s expression remained calm, as if he didn’t feel the weight at all.

Min Shu’s eyes widened instantly: “Bro, how did you just put that on your back?” He stepped over the ice on the ground and walked toward the man: “There’s a small trailer behind the sled—”

He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Wei Changchuan raised a hand to stop him. At the same time, he unfastened the latch connecting the coffin to the sled and, dragging the coffin with one hand, walked toward him. “It’s a hassle.”

Min Shu stared in disbelief as the man, with supplies on his shoulders and the coffin in his hand, walked past him. He couldn’t help but blurt out, “Holy shit!”

“Bro! You—you’re—” Min Shu jogged to catch up with Wei Changchuan, staring at him in shock. “This isn’t right, is it? How… how are you this strong?”

Under normal circumstances, the mountain of supplies on Wei Changchuan’s back, plus the coffin, would require a small truck to haul. How could the man just hoist it all onto his back without breaking a sweat?! Although Min Shu knew his own limitations—he was well aware that his strength and stamina were particularly poor—still, the average person shouldn’t be this strong, right? Could it be that everyone else out there had evolved without him?

“Bro, that’s—how do you work out?” Min Shu circled Wei Changchuan, asking, “What do you usually eat? Is it that protein powder? I see a lot of gym-goers take that—”

Wei Changchuan didn’t say anything at first, letting the young man dart around him like a grasshopper. But as Min Shu chattered away with his little mouth, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. Finally, seeming a bit annoyed, he spoke:

“The bodies of Immunes undergo genetic mutations.” Wei Changchuan shifted his muscular arm, pushing the supplies behind him upward slightly. “This is the result of that mutation.”

Min Shu’s stream of questions stopped abruptly. “…Huh?”

Has humanity really evolved without including him??