With the electrical panel back online, Wei Changchuan turned around, took the flashlight from his hand, and turned it off, saying, “The power’s back on. Where’s the heating station?”

Min Shu looked up and pointed in a direction: “Over there.”

The heating station and the power station were connected by a corridor.

As the two walked down the hallway, they discovered that power had been restored to the heating station at the far end. A faint, warm yellow light spilled onto the floor, illuminating the complex network of white heating pipes crisscrossing the space. Each pipe junction was controlled by a valve, and now, both the pipe surfaces and the valves were covered in a thick layer of frost.

Min Shu then asked, “Could it be frozen shut too?”

Wei Changchuan reached out and turned one of the valves. “Probably not.”

The valves were still movable. Unlike power distribution equipment, which is sensitive to temperature, the heating pipes on Greenland were made of materials designed to withstand the extreme cold of the polar environment and wouldn’t malfunction easily.

Min Shu looked around. The white pipes formed a complex network, and he couldn’t spot any problems with the naked eye. He took out the repair manual from his bag, flipped to the relevant diagram, and said:

“The main valve is on the left. Let’s go check it out.”

The two then headed toward the northwest corner where the main valve was located. The plant was very quiet,  with only the faint sound of their footsteps on the floor.

Min Shu followed behind Wei Changchuan as they made their way deeper into the facility, passing through layer upon layer of intricate white pipes.

As they drew closer to the main valve, they could faintly make out the bright red safety box on the wall. Just then, Wei Changchuan suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Min Shu stopped as well and looked up. “Bro, what’s wrong?” Wei Changchuan furrowed his brow slightly. “Do you smell anything?” Min Shu looked puzzled and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

Wei Changchuan looked somewhat puzzled. He turned back and said to him, “Wait here for a moment.”

Min Shu obediently nodded, stopped in his tracks, and watched as Wei Changchuan walked toward the main valve with the maintenance manual in hand, quickly disappearing from view.

Wei Changchuan found the main valve and ran his hand over the surface of the pipe; it was still slightly warm, indicating that the heat supply inside hadn’t stopped. Since power had been restored, the control panel monitoring various readings had also resumed operation. Wei Changchuan checked the readings against the maintenance manual and discovered that one of the branch pipes was malfunctioning—the reading for that pipe was zero, suggesting the valve was stuck.

Wei Changchuan turned around, intending to locate that specific pipe.

Just then, Min Shu’s voice drifted over—perhaps because of the distance, it sounded a bit faint: “…Brother.” Wei Changchuan stepped out from behind the pipe and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Min Shu didn’t answer him.

Wei Changchuan frowned and quickened his pace.

He rounded the corner and saw that Min Shu wasn’t standing where he’d been a moment ago. Instead, he’d moved a bit further east and was now standing between a row of white pipes, his back to Wei Changchuan, staring intently in a certain direction.

Wei Changchuan hurried forward: “Didn’t I tell you to wait right where you were—” But in the next instant, he came to an abrupt halt.

Less than ten meters away, a corpse lay slumped over a valve on one of the pipes.

It was unclear how long the body had been there; it was severely decomposed, its skin a purplish-blue hue, covered with a thin layer of frost.

One of the corpse’s hands was wedged right inside the valve—it appeared to have been pulled in as the machinery ran, completely jamming the valve shut.

A corpse like this should have emitted a pungent stench of decay, but because the body was blocking the valve—causing the heating plant to shut down and the temperature to drop sharply—the spread of the stench had been contained.

Min Shu stared at the corpse, his face turning slightly pale.

He had been standing over there waiting for Wei Changchuan, idly looking around out of boredom, when he accidentally caught sight of a white corner of clothing. Curious, he turned to look—only to come face-to-face with the corpse.

The corpse was a truly terrifying sight: highly decomposed, its entire body a blackish-purple color. Most horrifying of all was the eerie swelling that had taken over its entire body, as if something were expanding from within, forcing both eyeballs to bulge out of their sockets.

…The one on the right was hanging straight out of its eye socket, swaying back and forth like a pendulum.

Min Shu swallowed hard, barely suppressing his nausea. The corpse was barely recognizable as a fair-skinned, blond-haired person; the other eye had once been green, but was now clouded with a dull gray.

Min Shu looked at the white uniform on the corpse and thought it bore a striking resemblance to that winged Immune from the North American base he’d seen that day.

“Could this be someone from the base? Why would they be lying here?”

Min Shu thought to himself, turning his head to share his suspicion with Wei Changchuan: “Bro—”

But the moment he turned his head, he was startled by the expression on Wei Changchuan’s face. He had never seen Wei Changchuan look like this before.

The man’s face was almost pale; his eyes were fixed on the corpse, and the lines from the corners of his mouth to his jaw were taut to the point of being sharp. Min Shu couldn’t put his finger on the expression he saw on Wei Changchuan’s face; the man’s features were rigid. When Min Shu met his gaze, he was startled to see fear in those eyes, dark and deep as an abyss.

Yes, it was fear.

Min Shu froze, then asked, somewhat panicked, “Brother, what’s wrong?”

Wei Changchuan seemed to snap out of it only then. He turned his face away, glanced at him, and said nothing. Then, he picked up a wrench—left behind by someone unknown—from the ground and hurled it at the corpse.

With a “thud,” the wrench struck the frozen corpse, and the hand wedged in the valve fell straight down.

The valve immediately returned to its default position, and a low, powerful hum filled the heating station as the heat resumed. Yet there was no smile on Wei Changchuan’s face. Without a word, he dropped to one knee in front of Min Shu:

“Get up.”

The man’s voice was hoarse and his tone tense.

Min Shu didn’t dare to hesitate; he immediately climbed onto the man’s back. Wei Changchuan stood up with him on his back and, just as he had done on the way there, took out a thin blanket to wrap him up.

Min Shu remained silent, docilely allowing Wei Changchuan to wrap him in the thin blanket. However, when Wei Changchuan pulled the two ends of the blanket together and tied them around his waist, Min Shu clearly saw his hands trembling slightly.

It took him two attempts before he finally managed to tie the knot properly.

Min Shu was deeply shaken: “Brother…”

Wei Changchuan stood up: “Don’t say a word.”

So Min Shu could only keep quiet as Wei Changchuan carried him on his back, rushing through the hallway at an unimaginable speed until they reached the front door. Wei Changchuan opened the door, and a vast blast of wind and snow hit them head-on—while they had been inside the factory, a blizzard had begun outside at some point.

Greenland once again revealed its unpredictable side; within just a few dozen minutes, the snow on the ground had piled up so rapidly that it reached a depth where even Wei Changchuan’s calves were submerged when he stepped into it.

All Min Shu could hear was the howling of the gale; snow as large as goose feathers fell upon him, and even though he was wrapped so thickly, he could still feel a chill seeping through.

Wei Changchuan carried him on his back, moving forward through the snow at an unimaginable speed. He seemed almost oblivious to the gale sweeping around him, his back not bending even slightly. Yet the deep snow slowed every living creature equally. Min Shu heard the impatient crunch as Wei Changchuan pulled his feet out of the snow and stepped back into it.

But traveling in such weather was difficult for anyone.

Min Shu’s arm was draped around Wei Changchuan’s shoulder; he could feel his chest rising and falling, and his slightly labored breathing carried through the wind and snow, echoing in his ear.

Not knowing what to say, Min Shu braved the wind and snow to look back.

They had already walked down the small slope where the heating station was located, leaving a trail of deep footprints on the snowy plain. The heating station stood at the top of the slope, its warm yellow light glowing faintly through the grayish-white curtain of snow.

Min Shu stared at the glowing window for a long time before slowly turning his head and tightening his arms around Wei Changchuan’s shoulders.

“Brother…”

He looked at the back of the man’s head, his dark hair tousled, leaned in a little closer, and whispered:

“Have I been infected?”

Wei Changchuan’s footsteps paused for a moment, but soon he was back in the snow. Panting, he pulled his boots out of the snow and stepped back in.

It was a long time before Min Shu heard his voice:

“…I don’t know yet,”  he said. “Don’t overthink it.”

The man’s voice was low and hoarse, still calm, yet the final note lacked some of his usual resolve. It sounded as if he were comforting Min Shu, yet also as if he were telling himself.

In reality, however, the corpse exhibited symptoms typical of an X virus strain infection. Once the virus enters the host’s body, it first attacks the respiratory system. The infected person experiences initial symptoms such as fever, dizziness, and sneezing, until the virus invades the lungs through the respiratory tract, dissolving the tissue into a bloody fluid that is then expelled from the mouth and nose, thereby achieving widespread transmission. The infected eventually die of suffocation, their faces swollen and their bodies turning a purplish-blue.

The body itself also becomes a massive source of contamination.

The factory is a closed space with poor ventilation, and the power plant and heating plant are connected. It can be said that the moment Min Shu entered the factory, he had already directly inhaled the contaminated air.

Not to mention that he later came face-to-face with a corpse. Level 1 exposure.

The experience Wei Changchuan had accumulated on the front lines since the outbreak began allowed him to make a quick assessment.

The risk of infection was virtually 100 percent; the only hope lay in the infected person’s own immune system and the power of human genes that had not yet been fully decoded.

However, for someone like Min Shu—who had low resistance and had been born with a genetic defect—the outcome was almost inevitable. Yet Wei Changchuan dared not face this reality.

Even though the testing device was right there in his jacket pocket, he didn’t even have the courage to take it out, instead fobbing the young man off with the words, “We don’t know yet.”

But Min Shu wasn’t a fool; upon hearing Wei Changchuan’s words, he already knew exactly what was going on.

For a moment, Min Shu couldn’t put his finger on exactly how he felt. He knew his own condition better than anyone; ever since learning the truth behind the apocalypse, he’d anticipated a day like this when he might become infected. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon.

Min Shu lay quietly on Wei Changchuan’s back for quite a while. It seemed as though he was thinking about something, yet also as though his mind was blank. Finally, he said: “Bro, don’t worry.”

Wei Changchuan didn’t answer him; he simply pressed on through the wind and snow, moving forward as fast as he could.

Min Shu fell silent as well. He turned his head and rested his face against the man’s sturdy back, listening to his slightly labored breathing and the thudding of his heartbeat.

He could clearly feel that Wei Changchuan’s pace had slowed considerably compared to when they set out, but there was nothing they could do about it—the wind and snow around them had not only failed to let up but were growing increasingly fierce. They had been walking for so long, yet they hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the town.

Min Shu lay against Wei Changchuan’s back, yet he didn’t feel particularly cold. He looked up at the sky and could see only dense snowflakes swirling through the air, carried by the strong wind, spinning beneath the pitch-black canopy of the sky.

A snowflake landed on his face, quickly melting into a drop of water that trickled down his cheek to his chin.

Perhaps because he’d been staring at the swirling snowflakes for too long, Min Shu felt a bit dizzy and lowered his head, resting it back on Wei Changchuan’s shoulder.

As he did so, he suddenly realized something and raised his hand to touch his forehead. Upon feeling the heat there, his eyes widened slightly:

“…Bro, I think I have a fever.”

Wei Changchuan stopped in his tracks and suddenly turned his head.

Min Shu blinked slowly, feeling his vision grow slightly blurry. He saw Wei Changchuan’s black hair, tousled by the wind, hanging haphazardly over his eyebrows and eyes—devoid of any trace of his usual cold, stern demeanor, he looked somewhat disheveled.

Wei Changchuan looked at him, as if trying to say something—his mouth moving up and down—but Min Shu could no longer make out his words clearly. He looked into the man’s eyes, which betrayed a hint of fear, and curved the corners of his mouth slightly:

“Why that look?” he said in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible. “Bro, you don’t even look cool like that…”

His arms went limp and slowly slid down the man’s back.

For the rest of the walk, Wei Changchuan never received even the slightest response from Min Shu.

The young man lay limp against his back, his weight barely noticeable. Out of the corner of his eye, Wei Changchuan could see his limp arms swinging back and forth on either side with each step.

Only by feeling the faint rise and fall of the young man’s chest against his back did he know that Min Shu was still alive. Snow and wind swirled all around them, and the howling gales had reduced visibility to less than a meter.

Wei Changchuan’s hair and eyelashes were covered in frost and snow. He pulled his military boots out of the snow and stepped back in; the snow had already piled up to his thighs. Yet at that moment, they were still more than a kilometer away from the Chinese restaurant.

“Min Shu,” he said. “Say something, will you?”

He was now worried not only about Min Shu’s symptoms of infection but also that he might suffer from hypothermia after being out in the snow for so long. Yet the young man behind him did not respond.

Wei Changchuan pursed his lips. The wind and snow had grown so fierce that he had to raise his hand to shield his face; the biting cold wind sliced across his face like a knife. To make sure Min Shu behind him could hear him, he raised his voice:

“Min Shu, say something—anything at all.”

Min Shu lay with his eyes closed against Wei Changchuan’s back; he hadn’t completely lost consciousness yet. He heard Wei Changchuan’s voice, but couldn’t open his mouth.

One minute he’s telling him to shut up, and now he wants him to talk—how annoying…

Min Shu felt exhausted; all he wanted was a good night’s sleep.

But the wind was howling so loudly all around him—like a mournful lament, a sobbing sound swirling in a 360-degree surround sound around his ears—and with Wei Changchuan constantly talking to him, the noise was keeping him awake.

How much longer is this wind going to blow?

In a half-conscious state, Min Shu furrowed his brow, opened his mouth, and said in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible, “…Can it please stop blowing? It’s so noisy.”

His voice was so soft that even Wei Changchuan didn’t hear him.

He continued walking forward, maintaining the rhythm of calling Min Shu’s name once every minute. However, just ten meters further on, Wei Changchuan furrowed his brow and lowered the hand he’d been holding up in front of his face.

Was it his imagination, or had the storm actually subsided?

Almost within the ten minutes it took Wei Changchuan to have that thought, the storm visibly began to subside; the snowflakes, which had almost formed a solid blanket in the air, gradually turned into light snow, and finally disappeared entirely. The road ahead of Wei Changchuan was clear; visibility had improved, and he could now clearly see the warm glow emanating from the Chinese restaurant in the distance.

He had no time to wonder how the storm had vanished just as suddenly as it had arrived; he immediately quickened his pace, seizing the opportunity to hurry toward the Chinese restaurant.