There was a moment of silence in the room.
Song Yu: “……”
She forced herself to stay calm as she met Wu Yue’s gaze. “Are you sure?”
Wu Yue’s eyes were wide and round. Thinking Song Yu was just as incredulous, she nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! They’re definitely dating!”
“And it’s someone from our ship,” she added, her tone brimming with certainty.
“……” Song Yu didn’t know how to react. She coughed dryly and looked away.
“How do you know?” she asked, feigning casualness.
Wu Yue perked up. “We’re almost at Ny-Ålesund, right? The final work report is in a couple of days. This afternoon, Senior Brother and I went to find Captain Pei for a meeting. I wanted him to look over my PPT, and guess what?”
Song Yu: “……”
Her heart leaped into her throat. She prayed Wu Yue hadn’t walked in on her with Pei Zhi and overheard something.
But before Song Yu could respond, Wu Yue barreled on, her face lit with excitement. “When I got there, Captain Pei was in the bridge chatting with the Captain. I accidentally overheard them.”
“The Captain asked why he’d gotten up so late today, and Captain Pei said some personal business had held him up.” She paused there, leaving the rest hanging for a long moment.
Song Yu let out a quiet breath of relief, though confusion lingered. She couldn’t help asking, “So? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Personal business!” Wu Yue stressed. “That’s the key part!”
“Come on, on this ship, it’s all work all the time. What kind of personal business could there be?”
“……” Song Yu fumbled for an excuse. “Maybe he was on the toilet. Yeah—constipated and too embarrassed to say it.”
Wu Yue: “……”
“Who takes three hours to poop?” She shot down Song Yu’s theory without hesitation.
“Captain Pei’s always got a strong sense of time. I even asked Senior Brother. The Captain and the Chief Scientist had scheduled a noon meeting to discuss the route, but Captain Pei didn’t show up until after three.”
Wu Yue gave Song Yu a meaningful look that made her skin crawl.
“And,” she drew out the word, clearly teasing, “when I was giving my report, I noticed Captain Pei’s lower lip was busted.”
Wu Yue grinned suggestively. “Looked like someone bit it.”
Song Yu: “……”
The rest of the day passed in a daze. Honestly, she couldn’t remember if she’d bitten him or not—but she probably had.
“You didn’t see Captain Pei today. He had a bandage on his brow bone, his lip was bitten, and he had this whole wounded, brooding vibe. It was seriously hot. And he was extra patient with us today—that’s the first time I gave a report without him poking holes in it.”
Song Yu was speechless at “wounded, brooding vibe.” She was the broken one here, thank you very much.
“While Senior Brother was reporting, I snuck peeks for ages, trying to spot any marks on him. But Captain Pei had even the top button of his shirt done up, covering everything tight as a drum. Not a hint.”
At that, Song Yu quietly pulled her blanket higher, up to her neck.
Wu Yue noticed. “You cold?” She stood and cranked up the central AC.
“Next time, I’m gonna find a way to check Captain Pei’s room—see if the contraceptives in his cabinet are still there.”
On the Snowfield Ship, there wasn’t much besides work to kill time, so lonely souls inevitably got restless.
Rumor had it that after some messy incidents in the past, they’d just stocked a box of contraceptives in every room.
When Wu Yue latched onto something, she went all in—even this.
Song Yu managed a strained smile. “That seems kinda invasive, doesn’t it?”
Wu Yue nodded. “Yeah, true.”
She thought for a second, then clenched her right fist and tapped it into her left palm. “I could ask the supply desk. If Captain Pei grabs a new box later, there’ll be a record.”
Song Yu: “……”
Did she really need to go that far?
With that, Wu Yue shoved aside the bottles on her desk, set down her laptop, dragged over a chair, and sat, fiddling with something on the screen.
Song Yu figured that was the end of it and started to relax.
But before she could catch her breath, Wu Yue muttered, “Wait, no.”
“What’s wrong?” Song Yu jolted at the sound.
Wu Yue scanned the roster of everyone on the Snowfield Ship, filtering for all the women.
“I checked the girls on the ship. Besides us two, none of them seem like a good fit age-wise.”
She turned to Song Yu. “Don’t tell me—”
Song Yu froze. She opened her mouth to speak.
But Wu Yue glanced away, clicking twice in the Excel sheet and checking “male” and “unmarried.”
“Don’t tell me Captain Pei is gay?”
Song Yu swallowed her words and played along. “Could be.”
“He hits the gym a lot, right? They say nine out of every ten guys at the gym are gay.”
Wu Yue tapped her thumb to her chin, pondering. “Makes sense. Guess I need to keep observing.”
“……” Song Yu lowered her eyes to the laptop screen and exhaled quietly.
Over the next two days, the Snowfield Ship left the dense pack ice behind, picking up speed.
Thanks to the earlier blizzard, even with full efforts to salvage the gear, there were still significant losses. With the return route changed, they couldn’t hit the planned short-term sites and had to replan.
Pei Zhi spent his days in the conference room with the Chief Scientist, the Captain, and the navigator, poring over weather and ice conditions.
Song Yu rarely crossed paths with him. When she did, he was always surrounded by people waiting for instructions.
Whether it was guilt from Wu Yue’s probing or something else, Song Yu always slipped away quietly, avoiding eye contact—though she often felt that intense gaze on her back.
Arctic pack ice in winter was unpredictable. For safety, the Expedition Team scrapped the planned sites and made full speed for Ny-Ålesund.
Ny-Ålesund was a remote outpost town on the edge of the world, amid endless white ice. For the first time, Song Yu felt a hint of human presence.
Over sixty buildings dotted the town—mostly research stations from various countries—a true science city. Aside from the odd rare tourist, everyone you met was a scientist.
Winter population was small, just over eighty residents—even fewer than the Snowfield Ship’s full complement—but it had all the amenities: airport, docks, hospital, hotel, shops, even a gym.
Once the Snowfield Ship docked, the winter team from Yellow River Station was already waiting.
With limited bunks at Yellow River Station, half the Expedition Team stayed aboard for resupply and prep, while the other half headed to the station to rest and use its research gear.
Song Yu was assigned to Yellow River Station.
Ny-Ålesund’s dock was tiny—a narrow three-meter pier jutting from the coast, with vast snow-capped mountains in the distance.
The usually desolate pier buzzed with activity, filled with Chinese in red uniforms from the Chinese Arctic Scientific Expedition Team.
Staff on the dock numbered only four or five, but they handled the dozens from the Snowfield Ship smoothly.
Unlike the others with gear to oversee, Song Yu handed her backpack, luggage, and camera gear to the crew for the transport truck and let it go.
She stood on the shore, staring at the mountains.
In such open vastness, her own heart felt like it was expanding too.
With nothing pressing, Song Yu grabbed her camera and crouched, snapping who-knows-what.
She squinted through the viewfinder at the long coastline.
Polar night or not, the dock’s bright white lights and snow glare made the night feel vivid.
Then, a pair of legs entered the frame: crisp slacks, polished shoes, impeccable. They approached from afar and stopped right in front of her.
Song Yu blinked, lowered the camera, and looked up.
Zhou Yan stood with arms crossed, gazing down at her leisurely. His suit was impeccable, cuffs pulled back to reveal a white shirt cufflink—silver, round, intricately textured. Amid the windblown crowd, he exuded refined elegance.
Amusement glinted in his narrow eyes, as if their charity gala spat was ancient history.
“Long time no see,” Zhou Yan said.
Song Yu hadn’t expected to run into him here. Astonished, she asked, “What are you doing in a place like this?”
As she spoke, she stood—but her legs were numb from crouching. She lost balance and plopped back into the snow.
Zhou Yan bent down, grabbed her arm, and helped her up.
“Thanks.” Song Yu’s thanks was cool. She stepped back naturally, keeping a meter between them.
Zhou Yan caught the wariness in her eyes and explained, “I’m here in Ny-Ålesund to visit an American geologist and ask him to analyze a geological report for a copper mine.”
The Arctic region was rich in mineral resources. Zhou Yan’s family had built their fortune in the mining business and was one of the first domestic companies to collaborate with several countries on resource extraction in the Arctic Circle.
“Don’t worry, it’s not because of you,” he added.
Song Yu’s expression froze for a moment, and she muttered under her breath, “I’m not that full of myself.”
On the deck of the Snowfield Ship, the Expedition Team members were busy with their tasks.
“Captain Pei, we’ve finished inventorying all the equipment and supplies we’re taking off the ship. Take a look?” Zhang Cheng held a clipboard with two checklists clipped to it and handed it over.
Pei Zhi’s gaze drifted toward the dock, taking in the interaction between the two people onshore.
His eyesight was sharp, and his memory was excellent. He immediately recognized the man standing across from Song Yu.
“Captain Pei?” Zhang Cheng noticed his distraction and called out to remind him.
Pei Zhi’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. He slowly withdrew his gaze, reached out to take the clipboard, and flipped through the pages with large, somewhat careless and impatient movements.
“No problems. Prepare to depart.”
Rubber dinghies connected the Snowfield Ship to the dock. Stepping onto them for disembarkation allowed for a dry landing without wetting shoes or pants.
Pei Zhi shoved his hands into the pockets of his red team jacket and took long strides at a brisk pace. Zhang Cheng struggled to keep up behind him and wasn’t nearly as steady, swaying with the motion of the dinghies now and then.
Though Song Yu hadn’t thought much of Zhou Yan before, ever since they’d cleared the air at the Charity Gala, she hadn’t seen him in a long time.
On top of that, being out in the wild had broadened her perspective considerably. She no longer found Zhou Yan so grating, and the past unpleasantness was water under the bridge.
The two of them stood chatting idly about all sorts of things. Song Yu was particularly interested in the copper mine he planned to invest in, and their conversation ranged from extraction methods to copper purity and downstream processing.
“If you’re into copper crafts, you should visit a little shop in Longyearbyen sometime. They specialize in custom-made copper artwork.”
Song Yu raised an eyebrow. “What kind of artwork? Can they make jewelry? Like earrings?”
Zhou Yan pulled out his phone. “They probably can. I took some photos last time I was there—take a look. Some people even sketch their own designs for the owner to make.”
Song Yu leaned over to peer at the photos on his phone.
Each image showed exquisitely crafted copper pieces, from large reindeer antler sculptures down to delicate rings.
Song Yu was captivated by the workmanship of the copper items, and before they knew it, the two of them were standing very close together.
Pei Zhi stood behind them, eyeing their backs with a furrowed brow.
“Excuse me.” His voice was cold.
Song Yu was completely absorbed in the phone screen. Hearing the voice behind her, she instinctively stepped back a couple of paces to make way, without even lifting her head.
Zhou Yan, on the other hand, let his gaze linger on the man who had appeared.
Pei Zhi’s eyes dropped briefly to Song Yu, who was utterly ignoring him, before shifting away to meet Zhou Yan’s gaze.
Zhou Yan gave him a slight nod in greeting, as if they knew each other.
Pei Zhi’s face remained impassive as he strode straight ahead.
Zhou Yan watched the man’s retreating back—arrogant as ever—and shook his head helplessly.
“Can you send me these photos?” Song Yu finally looked up after scrolling through them all.
Zhou Yan pulled his gaze away. “Sure.”
He sent her the photos along with the shop’s address and name in Longyearbyen.
There was no signal in Ny-Ålesund, so transmitting the files took quite a while.
After Pei Zhi finished handling all the work, he glanced toward the other side of the dock with the corner of his eye and saw that the two were still huddled together, heads close as they chatted.
His brow furrowed even deeper, and his thin lips pressed into a line. Standing in front of the pickup truck driven by members of the Yellow River Station team, he called out in a deep voice, “Song Yu! I’m leaving—get over here now!”