Wei Changchuan was part of a submarine squad, composed entirely of immune individuals. They spent most of their time traversing the deep sea, carrying out missions in various parts of the world. This time, Wei Changchuan had also traveled to Greenland by submarine.

“Why not take a plane?” Min Shu asked curiously. “A plane should be faster, right? Could there be a virus in the sky, too?”

Wei Changchuan replied, “No, but it’s just too cold right now.”

After years of artificially releasing chemical bombs into the atmosphere to lower temperatures, the climate had cooled significantly. Temperatures in the upper stratosphere had now dropped to a point where they affected the flow properties of aircraft fuel; even a thin layer of moisture could cause the wings to freeze. Given the rapid decline in industrial manufacturing capabilities over the past eight years—due to massive population losses—it was simply impossible to produce freeze-resistant aircraft in such a short time.

Moreover, the outbreak of the plague—spread through the dense, busy network of global air routes—had caused the population to plummet. As a result, human bases now only allow immune individuals to use transportation. Returning to the base required a long period of quarantine and disinfection to prevent bringing the virus from the outside world back into the base and infecting vulnerable ordinary humans.

Min Shu had just taken a hot shower and was now snuggled under the covers, feeling warm all over. “Then, Brother, won’t you have to go into quarantine when you return to the base?”

Wei Changchuan wrapped his arm around him, his eyes half-closed. “Yeah.”

Min Shu asked, “How long will the quarantine last?”

Wei Changchuan: “Three months.”

Min Shu was startled by this: “That long?” That’s almost half a year.” Min Shu asked, “Why so long?”

Wei Changchuan lifted his eyelids slightly. Seeing Min Shu staring at him with curiosity, he closed his eyes again and told him a story.

By the mid-stage of the pandemic, the global population had been reduced by half, prompting governments around the world to establish the “Human Survival Organization” and build human survival bases in the frigid high-latitude regions.

To evade the ubiquitous airborne viruses, the East and West each established underground bases in Siberia and Northern Canada, relying on several surface-level turbine filtration systems to trap the viruses in the air.

Meanwhile, another group of Western scientists discovered that the virus’s spread was limited by altitude; this colloid-like, virus-laden air would only settle below a certain height. Consequently, the government, along with numerous scientists and architects, designed and constructed a colossal skyscraper tower.

The skyscraper was built next to the world’s largest freshwater lake, near a water source. With a total of 369 floors, it is divided into three sections from top to bottom, known as

“Lower City,” “Middle City,” and “Upper City.” The floors above the safe altitude feature luxurious penthouses with floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing residents to open them and breathe fresh air, while the apartments on the bottom 100 floors lack windows entirely, forcing residents to breathe only recycled, purified exhaust air.

This tallest human settlement on Earth is called the “Tower of Babel,” sharing its name with the legendary tower of the ancient Kingdom of Babylon.

However, fortune did not smile upon it. An immune individual living on a high floor introduced the virus, causing the plague to erupt from the very top. The celebrities and aristocrats who had once spent fortunes to purchase luxury penthouses rushed down to the lower levels, spreading the virus along the way, until eventually, every resident within the tower perished.

This human base, once hailed as the most luxurious in the apocalypse world and the closest to pre-apocalyptic living standards, was declared lost just eight months after its completion, becoming a massive tomb filled with the corpses of the infected. Its powerful electrical system continued to function for nearly a year after all the residents had died, lighting up the building punctually every night and casting its glow upon the corpses in the floor-to-ceiling windows, staging a series of magnificent yet eerie light shows.

Just hearing this sent a chill down Min Shu’s spine; he grabbed the man’s arm: “Bro, don’t scare me!” Wei Changchuan kept his eyes closed, saying nothing, but patted him soothingly on the back: “Don’t be afraid.”

The image of a building filled with corpses flashed through Min Shu’s mind. Unable to resist, he moved closer to Wei Changchuan and gripped the man’s arm, asking: “…Is that why you have to be quarantined for three months?”

“Right.” Wei Changchuan nodded and instinctively pulled the young man close into his arms: “From this perspective, the base isn’t all that safe either.”

Min Shu froze at his words and looked up at Wei Changchuan in surprise.

The man had his eyes closed, his thick lashes casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, his expression serene:

“It’s too crowded in there. If even one person gets infected, we’re all done for.”

Humans were far too vulnerable in the face of the virus. The two remaining underground bases relied solely on air purification systems running 24 hours a day to protect residents from infection, but due to limited technical resources, living conditions inside the bases were far from comfortable.

Inside the bases, there was no sunlight, no fresh air, and no freedom. All residents were centrally managed by the Human Survival Organization, which could only meet the bare minimum of their daily needs. As for pre-apocalyptic pastimes like tourism, strolling, picnicking, and shopping, they now existed only in people’s memories.

Should a virus ever enter the base, the residents would be as helpless as fish in a barrel, and an epidemic would erupt within mere hours. Wei Changchuan opened his eyes in the darkness and looked at the young man in his arms.

Min Shu had grown accustomed to being held by him these past few days; his fair face rested obediently against Wei’s neck. The young man’s body was light and supple, like an overly frail cat, lying on Wei Changchuan’s chest without a trace of weight.

Wei Changchuan looked at him. After a long moment, he raised his hand and gently brushed a strand of the young man’s tousled hair from his forehead:

“That’s why I can’t take you with me,” he murmured.

Min Shu froze at his words, looked up at Wei Changchuan, and met the man’s deep, dark eyes. He couldn’t quite make out the expression on Wei Changchuan’s face; there seemed to be some emotion between his brows, yet it was as if there was nothing there at all:

“On the way to the base, we’ll pass through a series of infected zones. Even inside the submarine, we might not be completely safe.”

He looked at Min Shu and said calmly: “Once we reach Siberia, survivors will need to undergo a three-month quarantine before entering the base, and even during that time, absolute safety cannot be guaranteed.”

When the human base was first established, over a hundred million survivors moved toward it from infected zones around the world—arguably the largest human migration in modern history. Yet fewer than one in ten ultimately reached the base. Wei Changchuan had witnessed the rescue efforts firsthand; sometimes, survivors who had just passed infection screening one moment would suddenly develop symptoms and die within 24 hours, causing entire truckloads or shiploads of survivors to become infected.

It was quite possible that a vehicle full of living people would arrive at the base only to be filled with corpses by the time it reached its destination. The journey to the base was a gamble. In the midst of a devastating pandemic with no effective protective measures or specific treatments, all anyone could rely on was their own immune system—and a stroke of luck.

He knew full well how vulnerable humans were in the face of the virus, which is why he dared not risk Min Shu’s life.

The young man was so frail that perhaps he didn’t even need the virus—the stifling heat and darkness inside the submarine alone could make Min Shu sick. Such a vulnerable human was undoubtedly the perfect breeding ground for the virus.

Greenland is currently the only isolated island that has effectively blocked the virus’s invasion, and the small town where Min Shu resides is completely uninhabited for over ten kilometers in every direction. In a sense, this place is safer than the base.

Wei Changchuan didn’t say any of this out loud, but Min Shu understood.

He looked into Wei Changchuan’s eyes and suddenly realized that this man was thinking entirely of him.

Moreover, even before he knew the truth about the apocalypse—when he had repeatedly asked Wei Changchuan to take him back to China—the man had already been looking out for him, which was why he had turned down his requests to leave the island time and again.

If Wei Changchuan were just an ordinary friend, Min Shu would likely feel nothing but gratitude at this moment. Yet—perhaps because people tend to become more emotional at night—his heart felt heavy with a bittersweet ache. There were so many things he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Min Shu looked at Wei Changchuan and finally gave a soft smile. “Brother, I understand,” he said.

Seeing him smile, Wei Changchuan’s features—hidden in the darkness—twitched ever so slightly.

The bedroom was pitch-black; Min Shu couldn’t make out his expression. Yet, relying on his enhanced night vision from his mutation, Wei Changchuan could clearly see the young man’s slightly wistful smile.

Wei Changchuan remained silent.

In the darkness, he watched the young man in silence. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but in the end, he said nothing. Instead, he reached out and placed his hand on the back of the young man’s head, pulling him into his embrace. “Go to sleep.”

Min Shu couldn’t see a thing, and so he missed the fleeting struggle in Wei Changchuan’s expression.

Though he felt a touch of sadness, he was also relieved that they had finally opened up to each other. Content, he leaned in, found a comfortable position in the man’s arms, and closed his eyes with utter trust.

Wei Changchuan held him close, his palm gently stroking the strands of hair at the back of his head, his movements incredibly tender. Yet the moonlight streaming through the window fell upon the back of his hand, revealing prominent veins.

The following days were all sunny. The sun rose around noon and set in the afternoon. Brilliant sunlight shone upon the ice field, the ice crystals glistening—the last vestiges of warmth this polar island emitted before plunging into the lonely polar night.

Taking advantage of the good weather, Min Shu began preparing for the coming polar night.

While there was still a bit of daylight left, he made a trip to the barn to collect the freshly laid eggs. As soon as he returned, he spotted Wei Changchuan approaching from a distance, hauling a massive fishing net. The net was filled with lively, wriggling fish—all plump and robust—their tails slapping forcefully against the ice, making a loud splashing sound audible from several meters away.

“Bro, this—” Min Shu was stunned. “When did you go fishing?”

Wei Changchuan set down the net. “Just now. It’s for you to eat this winter.”

Min Shu looked down at the ground; there were at least 200 fish in the net. Not to mention this winter, he had more than enough to last him the whole year.

Next, Wei Changchuan efficiently processed all the fish, cutting them into chunks and fillets and gutting the whole ones, then storing them for Min Shu in the ice cellar.

That evening, as expected, the two of them enjoyed a full-course fish feast.

Min Shu used the fillets and yesterday’s leftover hot pot base to make spicy boiled fish, then simmered the whole fish with tofu, and finally used the leftover fish bones and scraps to make fish soup.

Having eaten with Wei Changchuan for so long, Min Shu had grown quite accustomed to spicy food. With each bite of the fresh, spicy fish, he steadily worked his way through more than half the bowl of spicy fish.

Min Shu, on the other hand, picked up a piece of the braised fish in front of him with his chopsticks. The sea fish was tender and fatty, rich in nutrients, but its texture was still slightly inferior to that of river fish. Min Shu took a bite, chewed it, and swallowed before saying,

“It would be better with some fresh scallions.”

Seafood tends to have a coarser texture and a stronger fishy odor; adding some fresh scallions and ginger would improve the flavor considerably. Unfortunately, with the townspeople’s departure, supplies on the island had dried up, and his own stock was nearly depleted.

Just then, Wei Changchuan said, “In a little while, someone will bring supplies.”

Min Shu froze, looked up, and saw Wei Changchuan with his head bowed, placing a piece of fish into his bowl: “Don’t go out when they arrive. Have them leave the supplies in the courtyard.”

Min Shu blinked. “Someone’s coming?” He asked in surprise, “Who?”

Wei Changchuan glanced at him, then lowered his head. “People from the North American base.”

Upon hearing this, Min Shu realized it made sense. Indeed, compared to the Far East Base in Siberia, the base in northern Canada was actually closer to here.

But it was still separated by a strait, and with temperatures dropping day by day, the nearby waters were covered in drift ice.

“Will that be a hassle?” Min Shu asked with some concern. “If it’s too much trouble, don’t bother. I’ve got enough food here.”

Wei Changchuan didn’t even look up as he replied, “It won’t be. He owes me a favor.”

Min Shu was taken aback by this. The way Wei Changchuan phrased it made it sound as though he’d personally asked someone for a favor. He didn’t ask any further, but nodded obediently. More supplies were better than fewer, after all—no one knew how long this winter would last, or when summer would finally arrive.

With that settled, the two ate in silence, and Wei Changchuan polished off the entire fish feast.

Min Shu watched with satisfaction. After all, this was Wei Changchuan’s last meal at his place; once they were on the submarine, there likely wouldn’t be much to eat, so he might as well eat his fill while he could.

The next morning, they set off for the port.