There are no roads in Greenland; travel between towns is limited to boats or planes.

The small town where Min Shu lived had no airport, but it did have several ports. The one closest to Min Shu’s home was a shallow-water port, and the deep-water port wasn’t too far away either, though it was lined with reefs that dog sleds couldn’t cross, so they had to walk there.

After lunch, the two set off.

Wei Changchuan didn’t want to let him see him off, but Min Shu insisted on going. He couldn’t persuade him otherwise, and since Deepwater Bay wasn’t too far, he had no choice but to agree. However, he asked Min Shu to bring along a sled dog named Qike, so he could lead him home later.

Min Shu was a bit put out: “Don’t you trust me, bro? I’ve been there many times; I’ll find my way back.”

Wei Changchuan replied, “I don’t doubt you.”

Crouching down, he was slipping the leash over the sled dogs’ necks. After speaking, he looked up and met the dog’s gaze. Qike, the Alaskan Malamute, gave a gentle bark, as if receiving some command from him.

Min Shu, standing to the side: …

He couldn’t help but feel that Wei Changchuan trusted a dog more than he trusted him.

It was Wei Changchuan who was always getting lost; last time at the glacier, he was the one who found him. Min Shu dared only to grumble this to himself; he didn’t say it out loud.

Just then, Wei Changchuan turned his head and handed him something. Min Shu looked down and saw that it was a small black device with a button on it; he had no idea what it was for.

Wei Changchuan said, “When you get home, press the button on it, and I’ll know.”

Min Shu nodded, then suddenly thought of something and looked up to ask, “Bro, after you leave, is there any way I can contact you?”

Many places on Greenland had no signal, and the small town where Min Shu lived was one of them. His cell phone had become a useless piece of junk many years ago. He used to be able to play some offline games on it, but then one day, Min Shu dropped it into a snowdrift, and it froze solid.

But even if it were working, it probably wouldn’t be of any use. With the world outside having turned into what it is now, there likely weren’t any telecom operators left. What about writing a letter? There probably wasn’t a mail carrier either. Min Shu’s heart began to sink as he gradually realized that once Wei Changchuan left, he seemed to have no way of getting in touch with him.

Sure enough, Wei Changchuan remained silent.

Communication methods in the post-apocalyptic world were extremely limited; essentially, only a few fixed communication facilities could connect via satellite signals. Wei Changchuan was one of the few people in the world capable of carrying portable communication equipment, but even his device could only connect to fixed equipment on submarines. Sometimes the signal was very poor, allowing only the bare minimum of communication, and he couldn’t leave the device with Min Shu, though he desperately wanted to.

However, Min Shu had already understood everything from his silence. He didn’t say anything, but simply replied, “It’s okay.” He held up the small black box in his hand and grinned at Wei Changchuan. “Then I’ll press this a lot when I’m free. That way, you’ll know I’m doing just fine.”

The young man’s voice was cheerful and clear, without a trace of sadness.

Wei Changchuan looked down at Min Shu’s fair face, his eyes crinkling and a small dimple appearing at the corner of his lips. His complexion, however, was poor—his skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his lips had a pale pink hue, as if he’d lost blood. His poor health had sapped the vigor and vitality that should have been characteristic of a boy his age. Min Shu had a gentle, kind-hearted nature; he always seemed so sensible, never causing anyone any trouble.

Wei Changchuan gazed at his smile for a moment before turning away and giving the young man a light pat on the back of the neck. “Let’s go.” At 1:00 p.m., the two set off for Deepwater Harbor.

The weather was beautiful today—clear with a gentle breeze. The ice fields and snow-covered cliffs stood in the sunlight, and the air was filled with the crisp, clean scent of ice and snow.

Qike ran ahead. With the weather being so fine, there was no need to hold its leash, so they let it frolic freely across the ice plain. The reddish-brown fur on the Alaskan Malamute’s back bounced as it ran, looking from a distance like a fiery sunset cloud. These non-black-and-white sled dogs were very popular in the Arctic because their coat color didn’t blend in with the snow and ice, making them easier to spot.

The same principle applied to clothing. Min Shu had originally been wearing a white fleece robe, but Wei Changchuan insisted he put on a bright red windbreaker over it, making him stand out vividly on the snowy plain.

Wrapped up like a rice dumpling, Min Shu trudged across the ice field, not exactly lightly. The sunlight was a bit blinding, so he raised his hand to push his felt hat back a bit, squinting in the dazzling white light.

Just then, a hand reached out, gently pulling his hand away from his hat and clasping it firmly. A familiar warmth enveloped him. Min Shu’s eyes crinkled as he looked up at the man. “Brother, there’s no snow today.” Wei Changchuan didn’t turn around, simply leading him forward. “The path is slippery.”

Across the vast snowy plain, the two walked hand in hand, one in front of the other.

Min Shu looked up. The man’s black robe billowed in the wind, shielding him from most of the chill. The scenery around them was picturesque: the sun shone on the snow, and glaciers floated along the distant coastline, almost as if in a dream. If one were to ignore the fact that this was the apocalypse, the human race on the brink of extinction, and the impending separation, it almost felt like a date.

He glanced up at Wei Changchuan, then lowered his head again, clenching his hands a little tighter, secretly deciding to treat this as a date.

Although Wei Changchuan hadn’t actually told him he liked him yet.

But it was too late to say that now. Min Shu decided to overlook these minor details; he had always been a person who was easily satisfied. Looking at it from another angle…

“To be able to walk hand in hand with such a handsome guy in a place as beautiful as Greenland—back when he was just an ordinary college student, he couldn’t even have dreamed of something like this.”

Thinking this, Min Shu’s mood lifted, pushing aside the slight sadness brought on by their impending separation.

The two walked from noon into the afternoon, and as the sun began to set, they finally reached the bay. There was no sandy beach beside the deep-water harbor; instead, black reefs stood scattered everywhere, echoing the large chunks of floating ice on the distant sea—a scene completely different from any beach.

Min Shu stared blankly at the floating icebergs in the distance, so absorbed that he didn’t notice when Wei Changchuan had let go of his hand.

“What are you thinking about?”

A deep male voice rang out. Min Shu snapped back to reality and saw Wei Changchuan standing on a rock, looking down at him from above.

Wei Changchuan was tall to begin with, and with his head tilted down slightly, the shadow of his cap brim obscuring his eyebrows and eyes, all that remained was the overwhelming sense of presence his figure exuded.

Min Shu was taken aback. He thought to himself that if they were to film him like this, he could be cast as a villain in a movie right away. At the same time, he found him incredibly handsome; this military uniform only looked right when worn by someone like him.

Wei Changchuan looked at him and, noticing the young man was still staring blankly, beckoned him with a flick of his wrist: “Come here.”

Min Shu instinctively stepped forward, only to be grabbed by the arm and pulled up onto the rocks the next moment. Unable to steady himself, he instinctively braced his hands against Wei Changchuan’s chest and glanced down: “You’re so tall!”

Wei Changchuan steadied him. “Look over there.”

Min Shu followed the direction of his gesture and immediately widened his eyes: “Wow!”

In the distance, they could just make out a massive fjord. Over millions of years, glaciers had continuously eroded the terrain, forming steep cliffs. The ice cap extended from the land, sloping down the sheer face at nearly a right angle to the sea.

Bathed in sunlight, the ice wall was translucent at the edges and deep blue at the center, standing silently on the sea like a massive wall of ice that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

“It’s beautiful,” Min Shu murmured.

The two watched in silence for a moment. The sea breeze made Min Shu squint slightly. He looked down at Wei Changchuan’s arm draped across his waist, suddenly thought of something, and turned his head to say, “Bro, doesn’t this feel a bit like we’re acting out Titanic?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Min Shu realized he’d said the wrong thing. He’d been treating today as a date purely for his own amusement; he didn’t even know how the other person felt about it. Using a romantic movie as a comparison was inappropriate.

“Bro, I—”

He panicked slightly, about to say not to make a big deal of it, when Wei Changchuan turned his head and looked at him. “It does look a bit like that.”

Wei Changchuan smiled at him, turned around, and jumped off the rock, landing steadily on the ground. He then turned back and held out his hand toward Min Shu on the rock: “Come down. I’ll catch you.”

On the rock, Min Shu’s face flushed slightly. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and placing his hand in Wei Changchuan’s palm. Wei Changchuan took his hand, wrapped an arm around his waist, and lifted Min Shu down from the rock.

Once he was down, Wei Changchuan didn’t let go. Min Shu lowered his head, gazing at their intertwined hands, and felt a wave of warmth wash over him. He wasn’t a fool; he could certainly sense the subtle, lingering tension between them.

Although Wei Changchuan had seemed quite cold when they first met, perhaps out of pity for him, the man had actually always been quite gentle toward him. And today, Wei Changchuan seemed even gentler; though he said nothing, Min Shu could sense those feelings in his actions.

Perhaps their feelings for each other went beyond mere friendship, but at this time and in this place, there seemed to be no need to spell it out.

Min Shu pursed his lips. Thinking of the movie reminded him of what he’d been worried about earlier. He looked up at Wei Changchuan and said:

“Bro, I was just wondering—with so much sea ice out there, will the submarine be able to make it over?”

Wei Changchuan replied, “The ice floes aren’t a problem.”

The size, materials, and performance of a military submarine are entirely different from those of civilian passenger vessels. For a submarine designed to withstand torpedoes and various types of shells, small ice floes and icebergs are no obstacle. Moreover, with its smaller size and greater maneuverability, the submarine can quickly evade any obstacles it encounters.

Hearing this, Min Shu felt relieved. “That’s good.”

As long as it doesn’t hit an iceberg and sink like the Titanic, Min Shu thought, quickly shaking his head to banish that doomsday scenario from his mind.

By then, the sun had already dipped low in the west. The brilliant sunlight gradually sank into the clouds, and the bright, white rays gradually softened, painting the sky a brilliant orange-red.

Min Shu glanced at his watch, looked up, and sighed, “I guess the polar night will begin in less than two days.”

Once plunged into darkness, these days without sunlight would continue until the following spring.

Wei Changchuan stood behind him, his hand resting on Min Shu’s waist, saying nothing.

As if knowing what he was thinking, Min Shu turned his head and said, “Brother, don’t worry. I’m used to it by now.”

Hearing this, Wei Changchuan lowered his gaze to look at him, still saying nothing. He simply reached out and tucked a strand of hair from the young man’s forehead behind his ear.

After that, the two of them, in perfect harmony, said nothing more. They simply stood there quietly, leaning against each other, gazing at the evening glow on the horizon—as if waiting for something to happen, yet also as if wanting to prolong this peaceful moment indefinitely.

Yet, just like the sunset, beautiful moments are always fleeting.

Just as the sky shifted from rolling, fiery orange-red hues to a serene pinkish-purple, a sharp sound rang out.

The crisp ringing shattered the quiet air. Min Shu looked down at the source of the sound and saw a red light flashing at Wei Changchuan’s side.

Wei Changchuan took the transmitter down and pressed the button on the upper right; the shrill ringing and the flashing light vanished simultaneously.

Min Shu realized something and looked up: “Has the submarine arrived?”

Wei Changchuan looked at him and nodded.

At that very moment, the last trace of pink vanished from the horizon, and the sky suddenly darkened, a faint blue-purple glow enveloping the ice field. Wei Changchuan released him, slightly pulling them apart.

The searing heat surrounding him receded, and a cold wind swept in, causing Min Shu to shiver suddenly.

Although the surroundings hadn’t changed, at that moment, Min Shu felt as if he’d stepped from a warm room into a frozen wasteland. He pressed his lips together, hiding any trace of emotion, and looked up with a smile:

“Well, I guess it’s time to say goodbye, bro.”

He looked at Wei Changchuan and said in a friendly, upbeat tone: “Thanks for looking out for me these past few days. Make sure to eat well from now on.” 

He paused for a moment, then added, “It seems pretty dangerous out there. Even if you’re immune to the virus, you still need to be careful on missions. Don’t get hurt.”

After saying this, Min Shu paused, realized there was nothing else to say, and looked up at Wei Changchuan. Wei Changchuan stood with his back to the light, the deep purple sky behind him.

In the rapidly fading light, Min Shu couldn’t make out his features; all he could see were the man’s sharp jawline and the contours of his neck.

He remained silent, his tense jaw twitching slightly. But just as Min Shu thought he was about to speak, Wei Changchuan turned his head away: “…Well, I’m off then.”

Min Shu nodded. “Mm.”  

He smiled at the man. “Bro, have a safe trip.”

Wei Changchuan’s gaze lingered on his face for a final moment before he turned and walked toward the shore.

Min Shu watched his retreating figure. The man was tall and slender, his black cloak fluttering in the air—just as it had when he suddenly appeared in the midst of the storm.

Min Shu tried to commit this moment to memory; after all, this was likely the last time he would see Wei Changchuan. The man would return to the base, traveling the world on missions, while he would remain on this island—perhaps one day contracting the virus, or perhaps being struck down by a sudden illness. And though this brief time together had yielded no concrete outcome, it was a memory worth cherishing for the rest of his life.

But just then, he saw Wei Changchuan’s figure pause, then suddenly turn and walk toward him, reaching him in just a few steps.

Min Shu looked up in surprise. “Brother, how did you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Wei Changchuan pulled him into an embrace.

It was an incredibly tight embrace; Wei Changchuan’s strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and back, his intense body heat enveloping him.

“…Take care of yourself.” The man’s hoarse voice rang in his ear. They were so close that Min Shu could almost feel warm lips brush against his earlobe. Wei Changchuan whispered in his ear, “When the time is right, I’ll come for you.”

Min Shu’s breath caught in his throat; he didn’t even grasp the meaning of those words at that moment. Yet Wei Changchuan had already let go of him and turned to walk toward the shore.

It took several seconds before Min Shu snapped back to reality. He raised his hand to touch his ear. Come get him?

Did that mean he was coming back?

Min Shu could hear his own heart racing; it felt as if something inside him had been ignited. But he had no time to dwell on his feelings. Min Shu stood on tiptoe and looked out toward the sea. In the middle of the calm water, a whirlpool had appeared out of nowhere and was steadily growing larger.

The surrounding seawater seemed to be drawn into the vortex, the current growing faster and faster. Several small bubbles rose from within the water. Watching this, Min Shu felt a surge of tension and couldn’t help but gasp—this must be a massive submarine.

Not far away, Wei Changchuan stood by the shore, his uniform flapping in the sea breeze.

He stared intently at the whirlpool in the center of the sea, narrowing his eyes slightly. Suddenly, his expression changed, and he abruptly stepped back from the shore.

At the same time, he shouted to Min Shu, who was waiting to see the submarine surface, “Step back!”

Startled, Min Shu instinctively obeyed Wei Changchuan’s command and took a step back. But in that split second, Wei Changchuan had already reached him and grabbed him in a tight embrace.

Caught off guard, Min Shu’s center of gravity shifted backward, and his gaze swept over Wei Changchuan’s shoulder to see what was on the water’s surface—

To his astonishment, a massive orca had suddenly burst from the whirlpool that had been steadily deepening!

Its black-and-white head broke the surface; from such close range, it appeared unimaginably massive. In less than half a second, its entire body leaped out of the water, tracing a graceful arc before crashing back into the sea.

“Crack!”

With a thunderous roar, a massive wave erupted from the water. The orca’s body plunged back into the sea, but its massive tail remained above the surface. It slammed downward, instantly shattering a patch of floating ice near the shore.

“Splash!”

Seawater sprayed everywhere. Wei Changchuan stepped in front of Min Shu, blocking the brunt of the spray.

Min Shu reflexively shut her eyes tight. When she opened them again, she saw that Wei Changchuan in front of her was soaked through, his black hair clinging wetly to his forehead.

“Brother!” Min Shu was startled.

Wei Changchuan let go of him: “I’m fine.”

They both turned their heads at the same time. The seawater was still surging upward in wave after wave from the massive impact, and the giant orca had vanished without a trace, leaving only a long, resonant whale song echoing through the air.

“W-what on earth just happened?” Min Shu was so stunned he was almost speechless. “Why a whale? What about the submarine?”

Wei Changchuan clearly hadn’t expected this turn of events either—he was now soaked through, looking somewhat bedraggled. He paused, first glancing up and down at Min Shu. After confirming that his clothes were still dry, he lowered his head, picked up the transmitter, and pressed the button again.

Min Shu heard a crackling static, followed by a muffled voice on the other end: “Submarine Squadron A8045, come in—Hey! Hold the helm steady!”

The voice on the other end of the transmitter had been steady at first, but suddenly grew frantic. Min Shu’s eyes widened slightly as he saw Wei Changchuan frown and say:

“Where are you?”

The crackling sound came from the other end of the transmitter again; the signal seemed unstable, with the voice only appearing intermittently:

“Boss… the Whale… is trying to dock. Please hold on…”

But soon, the voice on the radio sounded panicked:

“Wait! Don’t touch that side yet… Where’s Lao Xiao? Get him here fast!” 

“Hard left, full speed! Hey, don’t touch it, don’t touch it… Hold on…”

“Damn it! Full speed, full speed! A rip current’s coming—”

The submarine seemed to be in utter chaos. Soon, in addition to the voices and various clattering noises, there were frantic footsteps and the heavy clanking of machinery. Just listening to it made Min Shu’s heart race.

Before long, the transmitter seemed to finally give out. After two loud crackling sounds, it fell completely silent.

All that remained between them was the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The massive whale seemed to have swum off into the distance, and the sea returned to calm.