Min Shu was somewhat surprised. He had only ever seen the island’s security force in the capital, Nuuk. Since Greenland had no stationed military, the security force served as a sort of self-defense unit, combining military and police functions, and was responsible for all matters related to the island’s security. Back when the port and airport were closed, Min Shu had visited the police station several times to ask when a ship would be available.

Min Shu immediately grew nervous: “Bro, they haven’t found out I’m an undocumented immigrant, have they?”

Wei Changchuan, who was walking ahead, stopped and turned his head to glance at him. Only then did Min Shu remember that it was already the apocalypse; no one would care whether his visa had expired or not.

Wei Changchuan probably thought he was a bit slow, so he paused for a moment before looking away. “They’re probably here for me.” Just then, there was another knock at the door: “Mr. Wei, it’s the Security Force.”

The people outside were speaking English with a slight Nordic accent; the pronunciation of “Wei” wasn’t quite right, but Min Shu managed to make out that they were indeed there to see Wei Changchuan.

Min Shu hurried over to open the door, but just as her hand touched the doorknob, Wei Changchuan grabbed her wrist: “Don’t open it.”

Min Shu froze, then was pulled aside: “Stay back.”

Min Shu was forced to take a few steps back. Watching Wei Changchuan’s back, he suddenly remembered Wei Changchuan’s earlier warning not to approach strangers, and he rubbed his arm, feeling a bit embarrassed. Having lived a peaceful life for so long, he always forgot that the outside world was fraught with danger—an apocalypse where he could catch a virus at any moment.

Wei Changchuan stood at the doorway without opening it, simply saying through the door, “It’s me.”

Seeing that he was indeed there, the person outside seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and said, “You’ve successfully made it to the island, Mr. Wei.”

Wei Changchuan gave a faint “Hmm.” The man outside continued in somewhat awkward English: “We received word in September that we were supposed to come and pick you up on the island earlier than planned, but due to an unexpected incident in the capital, combined with road closures caused by rain and snow, there was a delay. We are truly very sorry.”

Min Shu stood to the side, overheard a bit of the conversation, and opened his mouth slightly. So there was supposed to be someone on the island to meet him; it was the unexpected accident that caused no one to show up, leading to Wei Changchuan being picked up by him.

Wei Changchuan remained expressionless. “It’s fine.”

The leader, upon hearing this, breathed a sigh of relief. Wei Changchuan was one of the highest-ranking Immunes among the remaining human bases; over the years since the plague outbreak, his rescue efficiency and mission success rates had consistently ranked at the top. This time, he had arrived on a secret mission. The Far East Base had notified the Greenland side several months in advance; if the mission were delayed due to a failure to meet him in time, their responsibility would be immense.

The lead guard looked up at the sign glowing faintly in the falling snow—who would have thought such a restaurant existed in this small town ravaged by the bitter cold?

Just then, a breeze began to pick up, the snow fell heavier, and the temperature dropped steadily. It must be said that the warm glow emanating from the Chinese restaurant was undeniably alluring to travelers who had already frozen stiff outside.

“Mr. Wei…” The voice from outside trembled slightly from the cold. “C-can we come in?” Wei Changchuan, however, was cold and unyielding. “I’m sorry, but no.”

The people outside seemed taken aback that Wei Changchuan, an Immune, would refuse them so bluntly, and fell into a moment of surprised silence.

Hearing this, Min Shu glanced out the window and saw the wind and rain lashing outside; the temperature was likely well below freezing. The guards had been standing out there for who knows how long; a thin layer of snow had already settled on their uniforms.

“Bro…” He couldn’t help but reach out and tug at Wei Changchuan’s sleeve. “Just let them in.” Wei Changchuan paused and gave him a cold look.

Min Shu flinched under his gaze and shrank his neck. “Brother, didn’t you say Greenland is an uninfected zone? They should be fine.”

Wei Changchuan stared at him for a moment, the corners of his brows furrowing slightly as he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in a gesture of resignation.

Then he turned, pulled the door open, and walked out, slamming it shut with a loud “bang”—so swiftly that not a single wisp of the cold air from outside managed to seep in.

Min Shu stood at the window, peering out curiously. He saw Wei Changchuan pick up the testing device again and beep it a few times in front of the group, apparently to confirm that none of them had been infected with the virus. He then put the device away and said something to them.

Then, his eyes widened suddenly.

In the snowy field, several members of the security detail suddenly began taking off their clothes.

First came their outer coats, then their military uniforms, and they showed no signs of stopping even when they reached their undergarments. Before long, the group was completely naked, standing stark naked in the snow.

Min Shu：？？？！！！

Min Shu was utterly shocked. When the gate opened, he took several steps back, watching in panic as Wei Changchuan led several tall, naked men inside.

These guards were all very tall. The population of Greenland consisted mainly of Nordic immigrants and the indigenous Inuit people. The man leading the way was a Caucasian, tall and imposing, his pale skin slightly flushed from the cold, his muscular chest covered in platinum-colored downy hair.

The two men behind him had darker skin and black hair, their features more closely resembling those of the indigenous people.

But Min Shu had no time to pay attention to their appearance—the three men were completely naked and were now nervously covering their private parts with their hands.

Wei Changchuan glanced at him and said, “There’s a possibility the virus is still on the clothes.”

Min Shu felt his cheeks flush. “Ah,” he said, realizing what was going on. Nervously, he stammered, “Uh—w-welc…”

He almost blurted out “Welcome,” but at the last moment, he forced himself to say, “P-please, come in.”

The few members of the security detail seemed just as awkward, and they looked at Min Shu with a touch of surprise. They had assumed Wei Changchuan had found this restaurant as a base after landing, but they hadn’t expected to find a slender Asian boy inside.

The leader, a man with platinum-blonde hair, saw him and asked in surprise, “Are you a survivor?” Min Shu paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I live here… This is the Chinese restaurant I run.” Hearing this, the man frowned and asked, “Didn’t you receive the evacuation notice?”

Min Shu looked taken aback. “What?”

“Lieutenant Colonel, there’s no TV or radio signal here,” said a man behind him. “The evacuation mission was assigned to the Coast Guard at the time.”

“The guard ship—apparently because of the shipping route—I heard it eventually ran aground.”

Through their conversation, Min Shu learned that five years ago, when the global pandemic had reached its peak, a large-scale evacuation operation had taken place on Greenland. To better manage the population, conserve resources, and control access to ports, all town residents had been relocated to several designated zones within a ten-kilometer radius of the capital.

However, the small town where Min Shu lived was so remote that it never received the first or second rounds of television or radio announcements. Subsequent evacuation efforts were stranded when the ice sheet, extending outward in the bitter cold, blocked the shipping routes. By a twist of fate, the townspeople remained completely unaware of what was happening outside.

By now, however, he was the only one left in town.

The platinum-haired man, known as “Lieutenant Colonel,” had pieced together the situation. He turned to look at Min Shu and extended his hand in a formal gesture:

“I’m sorry, Mr. Min.”

He furrowed his brow slightly, his tone grave. “This was a failure on our part. I apologize to you on behalf of the Guard.”

Upon hearing this, Min Shu’s cheeks flushed bright red. He thought to himself that as an undocumented immigrant without legal status, the Greenlandic government actually had no obligation to look after him.

Seeing how sincere the man was, he felt even more embarrassed and almost nervously reached out his hand:

“N-no, it’s nothing.” Out of respect, Min Shu clasped the man’s hand with both of his own and looked up. “Lieutenant Colonel, there’s no need to apologize. I’m living quite well here, um—”

Min Shu’s words trailed off abruptly. His eyes widened in shock, his cheeks flushing bright red as he could scarcely believe what he was seeing.

It wasn’t really surprising, since the major was currently wearing nothing at all. With his right hand outstretched and his left hanging at his side, there was naturally nothing to block the view in between.

“Um, I… I wanted to say…” Min Shu felt as if he had turned into a rusty machine, his brain cells moving with the same laboriousness as gears jammed together: “You… you don’t need to worry about it…”

The platinum-haired Nordic man had clearly inherited the boldness of his Viking ancestors; after just two sentences, he showed no intention of covering himself: “No, Mr. Min, please do let us make amends.”

Min Shu was on the verge of fainting; he couldn’t even speak. He was a native of the south, and aside from having to bathe younger children at the orphanage when he was a kid, the showers at his university had always had partitions. He’d never been in a relationship either; you could say this was the first time he’d seen a man’s body so clearly in broad daylight—

Just then, a hand pressed down on his shoulder.

Min Shu felt a powerful force yank him backward; he stumbled, and his hand slipped from its grip.

“Go get the guest some clothes.” Wei Changchuan’s slightly hoarse voice rang in his ear.

Min Shu froze for a moment, then snapped back to his senses. He let out a huge sigh of relief and hurriedly agreed, “Okay. I—I’ll go right now.” He then turned around in a fluster and headed toward the bedroom.

Once he reached the bedroom, he finally relaxed a bit and raised his hand to cover his face. He felt he was such a wimp—getting so flustered just from seeing a man’s naked body, when anatomically speaking, it wasn’t all that different from his own—though the size was quite different, of course.

Min Shu thought about what he’d seen and felt a bit shaken. He shook his head to clear his mind of the jumbled thoughts and focused on looking for clothes. There were plenty of clothes, but the sizes didn’t quite fit. Min Shu picked out a few that Wei Changchuan had outgrown, held them up to his body, and decided they should be about the right size.

Just then, a loud “thud” sounded behind him.

Min Shu turned around to see Wei Changchuan standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

“Bro.” Min Shu turned around. “What are you doing here? I was just looking for some clothes.”

Wei Changchuan didn’t answer; he just looked up at him. Against the light, his eyes appeared very dark.

Min Shu sensed something was off for no apparent reason. He blinked and whispered, “Bro… what’s wrong?”

Wei Changchuan said nothing. He lowered his gaze, set his arms down, walked over to him, and casually picked up a piece of clothing from the bed, folding it neatly.

Seeing this, Min Shu assumed he had come to help. He breathed a slight sigh of relief and bent down to fold clothes as well.

But just then, Wei Changchuan suddenly blurted out:

“Why are you blushing?”

In the quiet bedroom, his voice carried clearly, his tone a bit sharp. Min Shu paused, looking up in confusion. “What do you mean, blushing—” Wei Changchuan didn’t stop folding the clothes into neat squares. He glanced at him and said,

“And you still dare to stare.”