Having witnessed such an eerie scene, the atmosphere between them remained somewhat tense all the way until they emerged from the glacier.

Min Shu was puzzled. He kept glancing up at Wei Changchuan, who stood beside him with a cold expression, and simply couldn’t understand why the other man had been walking in circles so close to the cave entrance.

Could it really be a ghostly illusion? Min Shu thought to himself that he had even specifically prayed for Wei Changchuan’s safety before the remains of Isua, yet it seemed to have been of no use. But if it really was a ghostly illusion, then perhaps his shout for Wei Changchuan yesterday had accidentally broken the spell?

Min Shu shook his head, realizing his thoughts were veering off track. This was getting into the realm of the occult—the prayers he sent probably didn’t apply here.

As his mind wandered, the two of them crossed the ice tongue and reached the end of the melting zone. From a distance, they could hear the barking of dogs. The sled dogs, tethered in a sheltered spot, caught their master’s scent on the wind. One by one, they began to cheer and leap, pounding the ice with their furry paws in excitement.

“Murek!”

Min Shu hurried forward and embraced the Alaskan Malamute with its fiery red coat, burying his face in the dog’s thick fur. He rubbed his face against it a few times, then took a deep breath of the dog’s scent, mingled with the coldness of ice and snow, and only then did he feel a little better.

“Did you all stay put? Did you get cold?” Min Shu said with concern, “Your master missed you so much.”

The Alaskan seemed to understand, licking his face affectionately. Min Shu pinched its ear, and just then, the other Husky came over, and Min Shu scooped it into his arms as well.

After giving each one a kiss and a pat, Min Shu took out some dried fish and the goat’s milk formula he’d prepared that morning. Once the dogs, who’d been waiting outside all night, were all fed until their bellies were round as balls, the two of them smoothly climbed onto the dog sled.

Without the coffin carrying Isua’s remains, the dog team moved faster, and under the clear sunlight, the two returned to the Chinese restaurant in just over an hour.

However, no sooner had Min Shu led the dogs into the backyard and unhitched the sled from them than a fiery sunset, as brilliant as a blaze, had already engulfed the land.

As the season deepened into late autumn, sunrise came later and later, while sunset came earlier and earlier. Today, the sun hadn’t fully risen until nearly noon, and now it was already on the verge of setting.

Min Shu gazed out at the vast ice plain, watching the orange-red line in the distance, and murmured:

“The polar night is approaching.”

Wei Changchuan was standing behind him. Upon hearing those words, he stopped behind Min Shu. The two of them stood there in the courtyard, quietly watching the evening glow on the horizon shift from orange to pale pink, then fade into the clouds, slowly blending with the deep purple of the falling night.

When the sky had turned completely deep blue, Wei Changchuan said from behind him, “Let’s go home.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Min Shu nodded, cast one last glance at the horizon, then turned and looked up at Wei Changchuan. “Let’s go, bro.”

Wei Changchuan lowered his gaze, seeing the young man’s bright eyes and brows against the dim sky. He raised his hand as if by accident, brushing a strand of hair from the corner of the young man’s upturned eye, then turned and opened the door.

After spending the entire night at the glacier, Min Shu put all his energy into cooking a feast to treat the two of them.

In the cold, pitch-black night, Min Shu dug out the portable stove, set the double-sided pot on top, and began preparing two broths simultaneously: a spicy red oil hot pot base simmering in water, and a sweet-and-sour tomato broth made with tomatoes and frozen beef cubes.

The spicy one was for Wei Changchuan, and the tomato one was for himself. Although Min Shu liked spicy food, his stomach was sensitive, so he couldn’t eat too much of it. Adding a little to his regular meals was fine, but a full spicy hot pot was a bit too much for him. Still, even if he couldn’t eat it, just smelling the aroma was a treat.

The accompaniments included luncheon meat, fish fillets, hot pot noodles, some frozen fish balls, and the frozen tofu Min Shu had made herself earlier. Min Shu handed the leftover frozen pork from the fridge to Wei Changchuan, asking him to slice it thinly.

In Wei Changchuan’s hands, the ordinary kitchen knife suddenly seemed to transform into a sharp, magical weapon. With his sleeves rolled up, he pressed down on the meat with one hand and effortlessly sliced off a piece as thin as a cicada’s wing.

“Is this okay?” Wei Changchuan asked, turning to look at him. Min Shu stood beside him: “…It could be a little thicker.” You could practically use this as toilet paper!

Wei Changchuan nodded at this and turned back to slicing the meat. Min Shu stood beside him, watching for a moment, then suddenly noticed that with every stroke of the knife, the slices were all the same thickness.

Min Shu said with a touch of surprise, “Bro, your knife skills are really good. Do you cook often?”

Hearing this, Wei Changchuan didn’t stop what he was doing; he just glanced at him.

At first, Min Shu was a bit puzzled, but then it suddenly dawned on him—Wei Changchuan’s knife skills might not have been honed through cooking.

He often forgot that the outside world was now a dangerous post-apocalyptic wasteland, treating Wei Changchuan simply as a traveler stranded on the island just like himself. A global pandemic has broken out outside—it must be very dangerous, right? Now Wei Changchuan was the base commander, but what had he been doing before that?

Min Shu found himself lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about?”

The man’s deep voice suddenly rang out. Min Shu stiffened, then looked up to see that Wei Changchuan had already finished cutting the meat and set the kitchen knife aside:

“Scared?”

Min Shu was taken aback, then chuckled. “Not exactly—” He paused, then said, “I’m just a little curious about what you were up to before.”

Upon hearing this, Wei Changchuan withdrew his gaze. He didn’t answer, but instead turned and walked out of the kitchen carrying the sliced meat. Min Shu assumed he didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t press the matter and followed him out of the kitchen.

In the dining room, the broth in the hot pot bubbled away, releasing a fragrant aroma, while the table was lined with side dishes—though there were a few too few vegetables. Wei Changchuan didn’t seem to mind, however, devouring meat rolls one after another with relish. 

Min Shu, on the other hand, preferred the fish slices and frozen tofu. The canned tomatoes had a rich flavor, and when simmered with the diced beef, the sweet-and-sour broth seeped into the fish slices, making them tender and delicious.

Min Shu ate his fish while watching Wei Changchuan devour meat rolls one after another, his lips stained red by the chili peppers. The more he watched, the more envious he became.

Suddenly, the tomato stew in his bowl didn’t look so appealing anymore.

Min Shu swallowed hard. “Bro, can I have a bite of yours?”

Wei Changchuan looked up at him: “Can you handle it?”

Min Shu felt a little guilty: “…Just a little bit. It should be okay, right?”

Although he’d been bedridden for three days, the last time he’d cooked hot pot ingredients himself, if it was just one bite—

Min Shu stared at the bubbling pot of red oil, inhaling the spicy aroma in the air, torn between conflicting emotions, when suddenly he saw Wei Changchuan get up and go into the kitchen. When he came out, he was holding a bowl of hot water. He then blanched a slice of meat, rinsed off the red oil in the hot water, and placed it in Min Shu’s bowl: “Here, eat this.”

Min Shu’s eyes widened slightly. He glanced at Wei Changchuan, then at the meat in his own bowl. Wei Changchuan might not know this, but back in his hometown, only parents would prepare hot pot this way for children who couldn’t handle spicy food.

As someone from a province renowned for its love of spicy food, Min Shu felt a bit embarrassed. He lowered his head sheepishly and ate the meat.

Although the surface layer of red oil had been rinsed off, the flavors of the spices in the hot pot broth had already fully permeated the thin slices of meat. Min Shu chewed a couple of times, and his eyes immediately lit up: “Delicious!”

Hearing this, Wei Changchuan dipped a few more slices for him. Min Shu quickly put his embarrassment behind him and went back to eating with gusto.

After they had eaten their fill, Wei Changchuan went to wash the pot as usual. Having eaten the hot pot, Min Shu sprawled back in his chair, feeling warm all over. A moment later, Wei Changchuan came out, sat down across from him, and suddenly said:

“I used to be in the military.”

Hearing his voice, Min Shu froze for a moment, then suddenly realized he was answering the question Min Shu had asked earlier. Min Shu’s eyes widened slightly, and he sat up straight.

Wei Changchuan kept his eyes downcast, his tone matter-of-fact: “At first, we were sent abroad for disaster relief. Later, we returned to the country. After that, our unit was disbanded, and the Human Survival Organization established a Far East base, so I was assigned there.”

As he listened, Min Shu’s heart sank. Although Wei Changchuan spoke briefly, those few words had already sketched out the process of human civilization’s collapse in the face of the plague.

A chill ran down Min Shu’s spine. How quickly would the population have to dwindle for the military—and even the very concept of a “nation”—to vanish? The horror of the apocalypse hit him like a wave from those few words.

Min Shu’s heart tightened. He looked up and asked with some difficulty, “Then… how many of us are left?”

Wei Changchuan knew he was referring to the number of people remaining in the existing human bases. He replied, “When I left, there were 36,452 people; I’m not entirely sure about the situation at the North American base.”

Hearing this, Min Shu’s heart skipped a beat, and his stomach immediately felt as heavy as if he’d swallowed a lump of iron.

A vast nation, and in the end, there were only a little over thirty thousand people left. Min Shu felt an overwhelming heaviness in his heart; for several minutes, he could barely speak. He thought of his college roommate, then of the few aunts at the orphanage. With such a slim chance of survival, he couldn’t even convince himself that they were still alive.

Just then, a hand reached out and clasped the one Min Shu had resting on the table.

Min Shu looked up and met Wei Changchuan’s calm gaze:

“The base has been operational for three years now, and the situation has stabilized considerably.”

Wei Changchuan said.

Min Shu knew he was trying to comfort him. He forced a smile and said, “Thank goodness you’re telling me this now, brother. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have been able to eat a bite.”

Wei Changchuan said nothing and didn’t let go of his hand. Min Shu kept his head down for a moment, then looked up and said, “So… are you going back to the base, bro?”

The base was in Siberia, and the scientists were likely all there. Wei Changchuan had come here to collect virus samples from the glacier, and now that he’d obtained them, he should be heading back.

Sure enough, after a brief silence, Wei Changchuan’s voice came: “Yes.”

In that instant, Min Shu couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was feeling. At that moment, he finally began to understand why Wei Changchuan had left without a word the first time. Perhaps his original plan had been to collect the virus samples as quickly as possible and then leave; if he hadn’t gotten lost in the storm, he and Wei Changchuan would never have met. If they were destined to part ways, in an apocalyptic world where anything could happen, it was best not to form too deep a connection.

But it was already too late to think about that now.

Min Shu kept his head down, saying nothing. Wei Changchuan didn’t speak either, but simply held his hand quietly. The warmth from the man’s palm kept flowing through, enveloping him gently, just like the feeling this person gave him.

Min Shu’s breathing was shallow. After a moment, he closed his eyes. When he looked up again, a faint smile had appeared on his face:

“Are you going back to that base in Siberia?” he asked. “That’s quite a distance. Are you taking a submarine back?”

Wei Changchuan stared intently at him, his eyes reflecting Min Shu’s fair face and arched brows. After a long moment, he lowered his gaze and released their clasped hands: “Yes.”

“That’ll be quite a long trip, won’t it? Be careful on the way, bro.”   

Min Shu said with a smile.

The two sat in the dining room, chatting about this and that for a while. Min Shu learned that Wei Changchuan had been in constant contact with his comrades on the submarine via satellite communication. After dropping Wei Changchuan off in Greenland, the submarine would sail deep into the North Atlantic. Upon receiving confirmation that Wei Changchuan had successfully collected the samples, they said they would dock at the deep-water port northeast of the town in three days to pick him up.

Min Shu also learned that the crew members on the submarine were all immune individuals like Wei Changchuan. Not all of them were military personnel; there were people from various other professions as well. After becoming one of the lucky few selected from millions to gain immunity, they had voluntarily joined the Human Survival Organization Command, where they were reorganized into squads to carry out various missions.