Song Yu stood in place, staring dazedly at the man.
The cigarette clamped between her two fingers burned quietly, the ash fell and scorched the pad of her finger.
Song Yu’s fingertip trembled, momentarily at a loss. She pressed the cigarette butt against the silver metal cigarette case to extinguish it, leaving a round black ash mark on the case.
The sky had completely darkened. Beneath the thick clouds, only the last streak of sunset glow remained.
Pei Zhi’s side profile was hidden in the shadows, his expression unclear.
“Song Yu—” Wu Yue ran over from the back door of the meeting room in the distance, calling her name. Only upon approaching did she see Pei Zhi standing at the corner.
Wu Yue tilted her head in greeting. “Captain Pei, you’re here too.”
Pei Zhi lowered his eyelashes, withdrawing his gaze from meeting Song Yu’s, and faintly “mm”-ed.
“That’s perfect. Let’s head back together quickly. The safety training is almost done—just waiting for your final summary.”
Pei Zhi nodded, hands in the pockets of his red uniform jacket, then turned and entered the meeting room by himself.
Wu Yue watched Pei Zhi’s back, then trotted to Song Yu’s side and elbowed her waist, her face full of excitement. “How is it? Isn’t my advisor super handsome? I didn’t lie to you, right?”
Song Yu was somewhat dazed. Her eyelashes trembled lightly as her index finger quickly rubbed the corner of her eye, the pad slightly wet.
She blinked, her eye sockets faintly red, unsure if she had seen wrong.
Clearly two people dressed completely differently, yet their appearances and temperaments were so similar.
“He is Pei Zhi?” Song Yu asked softly.
“Yeah.” Wu Yue reached out to link arms with Song Yu. “Come on, let’s go—it’s so cold outside.”
Song Yu was pulled by Wu Yue into the meeting room from the back door.
Her gaze glanced toward the front end of the conference table, immediately spotting the particularly eye-catching man standing among the crowd.
Pei Zhi’s expression was indifferent, his whole demeanor exuding an aloofness that kept people at arm’s length.
“I won’t say much else. Welcome everyone to participate in this Snowfield Ship winter polar expedition.” His Chinese was enunciated clearly and roundly, extremely pleasant to the ear.
Song Yu and Wu Yue hunched their backs and sat in the last row.
Pei Zhi’s gaze swept over them, then quickly moved away.
His palm lightly rested on the solid wood conference table in front of him, his index finger tip tapping lightly. “One more thing: smoking is prohibited on the Snowfield Ship. If I catch anyone doing it again, please get off the ship.”
Song Yu: “…”
Wu Yue pursed her lips, whispering with Zhang Cheng beside her. “This is the first time I’ve heard Captain Pei emphasize the rules. The safety regulations just mentioned it too. Who is so clueless as to smoke on the expedition ship?”
She sniffed, leaning close to Zhang Cheng’s collar. “Hm? I think I really smell smoke.”
Zhang Cheng frowned and pressed her head to push her away. “Go away, it’s not me.”
Song Yu didn’t pay attention to their conversation, her gaze fixed tightly on the man on stage, observing his every move.
Pei Zhi’s speech was concise, with a fast pace—straight to the point—and it soon brought the lengthy meeting to an end.
Once the meeting ended, the researchers dispersed: some went to eat, others returned to their rooms.
The expedition team shared rooms two to a room, and Song Yu was assigned to share with Wu Yue.
While unpacking in the room, Song Yu barely got started before stopping. She held a cup of coffee in her hand, gently stirring it with a small wooden stick in her right hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she seemed distracted, lost in thought.
“Yueyue, you mentioned before that your advisor did fieldwork in the Amazon last year. Do you know the specific time and location?”
Wu Yue took clothes out of her suitcase one by one and hung them in the wardrobe. “I’m not too sure. Every time he enters the rainforest, if he’s lucky and encounters an unstudied tribe, he won’t come out for a year and a half. Last year, he was gone for a particularly long time.”
Usually, it was Wu Yue who brought up her advisor, so this was the first time Song Yu had asked about him. Wu Yue got excited and simply set down the clothes, sitting on the opposite bed. “Do you know what I think is the most amazing thing about Captain Pei?”
“It’s that he learns languages super fast. Basically, after two months in an indigenous tribe, he can speak the local language. And he’s especially good at integrating into the group by living like the locals, so he always gets a particularly accurate understanding of those foreign cultures.”
Wu Yue clicked her tongue in admiration. “I’d never be able to do that.”
As she listened, Song Yu’s expression grew darker and darker. She pressed her index finger against the small wooden stick and snapped it with a “crack.”
She took a sip of coffee, the bitter taste flooding her mouth.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
Zhang Cheng called out from outside, “You two ready? Pack up and let’s go eat.”
Wu Yue’s stomach let out a timely rumble, and she shouted toward the door, “Coming, coming!”
The Snowfield Ship’s cafeteria was on the second floor of the cabin, with rows of four-person tables that could seat up to a hundred people at once.
There were six serving windows, offering more than twenty kinds of food, even including fresh vegetable salad and freshly wrapped dumplings. On the vast, endless sea, this was already considered a very lavish meal.
When they arrived, there weren’t many people yet, just a few sitting here and there in twos and threes.
Zhang Cheng was a combined Master’s-PhD student at Jingbei University and was participating in the Arctic expedition for the second time. He had many acquaintances on the ship and would greet them from time to time along the way.
Song Yu had something weighing on her mind. She followed behind Wu Yue and made a lap, hardly taking any food; her tray held only a serving of vegetable salad.
Wu Yue noticed and frowned. “How can you stay full eating just this? You’ll get hungry easily at night.”
“I don’t have much appetite,” Song Yu said indifferently.
Seeing her pale face, Wu Yue asked with concern, “Are you seasick? The sea has big waves; you should eat more anyway. If you throw up on an empty stomach, it’ll be even worse.”
Zhang Cheng glanced at a counter on the other side of the cafeteria. “How about ordering some freshly boiled porridge?”
The freshly boiled porridge counter was run by a Cantonese uncle in the cafeteria. He used the freshest seafood caught that day, and the taste was no worse than on land, so there were quite a few people in line.
Song Yu held her tray and joined the end of the queue, head down and absent-minded.
“One serving of fish slice porridge.” The man’s voice was low and husky, carrying a pleasant magnetism.
Song Yu’s eardrums vibrated slightly. She looked up and finally noticed the person ahead of her.
The man stood sideways, tall and straight, a full head taller than her and then some, blocking the light from above and enveloping her entirely in his shadow.
At eye level, her gaze could only reach his chest, where the red jacket bore the yellow embroidered “China Arctic Expedition Team” insignia.
At the freshly boiled porridge counter, two small pots bubbled with plain porridge. The uncle’s hands moved nimbly as he picked out fish slices marinated in starch and ginger shreds with chopsticks and dropped them into one pot.
“Little girl, what do you want?” The uncle’s Mandarin wasn’t standard—he didn’t distinguish between flat and curled tongues—and carried a distinct Cantonese accent.
Song Yu pursed her lips and looked away. “Pig liver porridge.”
“Sorry, no pig liver.”
Pei Zhi heard her voice and lifted his eyelids slightly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
“Pig organs aren’t easy to store on the ship.” The uncle pulled out a menu from somewhere. “Here, everything on this is available.”
Song Yu looked at the menu. “Then squid porridge.”
“Alright, one squid porridge.”
While waiting for the porridge, the uncle chatted idly with Pei Zhi, the two seeming quite familiar.
“Are you going to Oymyakon again this year?” the uncle asked.
The man gave a faint “Mm.”
The uncle rubbed his hands. “That’s cold enough—over minus fifty degrees in winter, right?”
As he spoke, he stirred one pot of porridge with chopsticks, gripped the wooden handle, and poured it into a white porcelain bowl.
“Squid porridge’s ready.”
Pei Zhi imperceptibly stepped back, yielding the spot at the counter.
“…” Song Yu stepped forward, head down, her already long hair falling to obscure her face.
“Careful, it’s hot,” the uncle reminded her.
The freshly boiled porridge was straight from the pot, still steaming with white vapor. She gripped the edges of the large bowl with both hands and carefully lifted it onto her tray.
Just then, the icebreaker ship—which had been gently rocking—suddenly pitched violently up and down.
Her tray slid with it, tilting outward as the porridge began to spill.
Song Yu hadn’t even reacted when she felt someone yank her arm backward from behind.
Her back collided with a broad chest. The air carried a faint cedar scent, both familiar and strange.
At the same time, with a “clang,” the porridge bowl hit the ground by her feet.
“Ouch, you okay?” The uncle poked his head out from the counter. He saw the porridge on the floor. “Good thing Captain Pei reacted fast—you almost got scalded.”
Song Yu was dazed for an instant but quickly snapped out of it. She wriggled her arm free from Pei Zhi’s grasp, didn’t turn to look at him, and squatted down on her own to clean up the mess.
Pei Zhi’s eyes were pitch black as he stared at the back of her head, his thin lips pressed together in silence.
The uncle quickly stopped her from the side. “Don’t touch it, don’t touch it—I’ll get the mop.” He circled around from the other side of the counter and swiftly cleaned up the mess.
Song Yu watched him bustle about, apologizing and thanking him nonstop.
Once he finished, the uncle waved it off. “No big deal.”
He pointed to the tray pickup table at the counter. “Next time, slot the tray into this groove. That way, no matter how the ship rocks, it won’t slide.”
The porridge in the pot was boiling over; the uncle hurried back and served a bowl of fish slice porridge.
“Sorry, Captain Pei, the porridge boiled a bit too long.”
“It’s fine.” The man picked up the porridge, unconcerned.
The uncle glanced at Song Yu. “Hang on a sec—I’ll cook up another bowl for you.”
Song Yu stood at the food stall, feeling a faint breeze as the man brushed past her.
Throughout the entire exchange, they didn’t share a single word or even glance at each other, like two complete strangers.
Eight o’clock that evening.
Song Yu changed into a comfortable set of workout clothes. “I’m heading out.”
Wu Yue lounged on the bed, cradling her tablet as she fiddled with something on it.
She shot Song Yu a quick look. Song Yu was dressed in a form-fitting, low-neck lavender yoga top with an open back, delicate crisscrossing straps that accentuated her sharp, sculpted shoulder blades. The low-rise leggings hung lightly, making her legs look straight and endlessly long, her waist slim and supple.
“You barely ate anything tonight and you’re still going to work out? No wonder you have such a great figure,” Wu Yue sighed, giving her own little belly a pinch. “Maybe I’ll join you tomorrow.”
Song Yu sat on the stool by the room door, slipping on her shoes. She chuckled. “Forget tomorrow—how about now?”
Wu Yue rolled over on the bed, presenting her backside. She grumbled playfully, “I ate too much today. I haven’t even digested it yet.”
Song Yu shook her head helplessly, said nothing more, and shut the door behind her as she left.
The Snowfield Ship had every amenity imaginable, including a gym.
Song Yu had checked it out during the previous test voyage. It was about thirty square meters, not packed with equipment but sufficient for the basics, complete with two treadmills.
Today, she really needed the exercise to clear her head and calm down.
The treadmills faced a full wall of windows overlooking the endless sea.
When Song Yu arrived at the gym, it was busier than she’d expected. Both treadmills were occupied, the users facing away from her.
One of them was tall, wearing a black T-shirt and loose pants. His running form was textbook perfect—long strides that took up the entire belt, his arm muscles taut and defined, his pale skin dotted with fine beads of sweat. An aura of raw masculinity hit her like a wave.
Song Yu froze for a moment. She recognized him from the back alone.
She pressed her lips together, a wave of irritation washing over her. Why was he everywhere?
Just as Song Yu turned to find somewhere else, the person on the other treadmill stepped off and greeted her.
“Hey, you here to run too?” He Fu pulled the towel from around his neck and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Perfect timing—I just finished. It’s all yours.”
Song Yu felt a bit awkward and waved him off. “No need. I’ll use the elliptical.”
The elliptical machine was the only one still free.
He Fu glanced at it. “Oh,” he said. “That’s broken. That’s why no one’s on it.”
“Come on, hop on before someone else shows up and takes it.”
With no other choice, Song Yu reluctantly stepped onto the treadmill. Her gaze drifted uncontrollably toward the man beside her.
His breathing came in steady, rhythmic pants, completely unfazed by her arrival.
She forced her eyes to the treadmill’s display panel and hit the “start” button.
Nothing happened.
He Fu hadn’t left yet. He leaned against her machine and pressed the button a couple of times for her.
The treadmill beeped, and the belt began to move slowly.
“The buttons on this one are finicky,” he explained. “Just press a few times.”
Song Yu nodded her thanks and started jogging along with the belt.
Once she was moving, He Fu stopped lingering and headed out.
Running on a ship felt different from land. Song Yu took a moment to adjust to the vessel’s sway before picking up the pace—but she didn’t dare go as fast as usual.
She’d forgotten her earbuds, so she stared out at the pitch-black sea.
The transparent glass acted like a mirror, reflecting the scene inside the gym.
No matter how hard she tried to ignore the man next to her, his figure kept intruding into her peripheral vision in the reflection.
Running was supposed to be stress-relieving, but Song Yu only grew more agitated the longer she went, her breaths coming quicker and more erratic— a stark contrast to the man’s orderly rhythm.
Finally, she dropped her gaze to the display panel alone.
The timer ticking away had never felt so agonizingly slow.
The straps of her sports bra kept slipping down. Song Yu tugged them up again and again until she gave up. Her chest felt wrapped in a thin layer of plastic, suffocating her.
Exhausted as she was, she refused to stop before he did, caught up in some inexplicable stubbornness.
What made it worse was that she was panting like a dog on its last legs, while Pei Zhi ran even faster—and made it look effortless.
In the end, Song Yu couldn’t outlast him. After forty-five straight minutes, her calves burned with fatigue.
She reached for the stop button, but it was unresponsive, no matter how many times she jabbed it.
Her legs could barely keep up with the belt now; she dragged them along desperately to avoid being thrown off. The pause button refused to cooperate, and yanking the emergency safety clip did nothing.
Pei Zhi caught her struggle out of the corner of his eye. His brow furrowed slightly. He slowed his own machine and reached over to hit pause for her.
The treadmill that had defied her every effort ground to a halt at his casual touch.
Song Yu stood there, lifting her head as sweat trickled from her temple into her eyes, stinging fiercely.
“I didn’t need your help.”
For some reason, the words snapped out of her mouth.
Pei Zhi’s gaze settled on her face. Flushed from exertion, her cheeks glowed red, her breaths shallow and quick, her chest rising and falling with soft swells.
The thin straps on her shoulders had slipped countless times, baring smooth, rounded skin that gleamed white with hints of pink.
She’d come to work out dressed like that, all dolled up. God only knew how many men on the treadmills had stolen glances at her.
And now she was glaring at him aggressively, like a little leopard riled up.
He wasn’t even angry yet.
Pei Zhi’s eyes remained calm and still as he regarded her.
After a few seconds of eye contact, he looked away, thumbed the accelerator, and resumed running.
His response landed like a feather—utterly indifferent.
Song Yu felt like she’d punched thin air. It only made her more frustrated.
The gym had separate men’s and women’s showers, larger and better equipped than the ones in the rooms.
Song Yu showered forever after her workout, rinsing off the sweat and her simmering anger.
As she emerged, pushing aside the shower curtain and walking down the long, empty corridor, she ran straight into Pei Zhi, fresh from his own run.
He’d clearly seen her too. His gaze lingered for a split second before shifting away, his expression as cold and distant as ever.
The emotions Song Yu had bottled up all day finally boiled over. As they passed, she grabbed his arm and shoved him against the wall.
He towered over her. She had to stand on her tiptoes and crane her neck to meet his eyes.
A crack appeared in the man’s serene gaze, surprise flickering at her sudden move.
Without a word, Song Yu snatched the work badge hanging from his chest.
Under the dim light, it bore the Jingbei University emblem, along with his name and photo.
She thrust it in front of his face. “So is this what you wanted to tell me that day?”
Pei Zhi’s eyelids drooped, locking onto her eyes, which blazed with clear fury.
He gave a faint “Mm.”
His admission hit her like a slap. Song Yu flung the badge back at his chest.
“Liar,” she said.
So he was on the same side as her all along. And here she’d been wracked with guilt.
A long silence stretched between them.
Pei Zhi spoke slowly. “But you left first.”
Song Yu blinked, staring into his deep, piercing black eyes.
Pei Zhi reached out and gently tugged her slipped strap back onto her shoulder.
“Wasn’t it?”
He had waited in the rainforest for a long time.
Until the fire consumed everything.