As vast swaths of clouds drifted by, the aurora took on an increasingly vivid crimson hue, bathing the snow-capped peaks in its glow.
Song Yu gazed into the man’s pitch-black eyes.
Her heart seemed to skip a beat.
In the vast expanse of the natural world, it felt as though only the two of them remained, the surroundings falling into profound silence.
“Tomorrow the expedition team has a rest day. I want to take you to meet a friend,” Pei Zhi said.
Song Yu’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, her cheeks burning with heat.
She gave a light cough. “Sure.”
That evening, back in her room, Song Yu buzzed with excitement. She wasn’t sure if it stemmed from the aurora or something else entirely.
Her ears and the sides of her face stayed hot for ages.
She burrowed under the covers, tossing and turning countless times. Insomnia plagued her until two or three in the morning, when she finally drifted off in a haze.
Yet at five the next morning, the sharp knocking at her door yanked her awake.
Rubbing her eyes, Song Yu opened the door and found the man standing in the corridor.
Pei Zhi was dressed neatly, clearly ready to depart.
With no work that day, he wore casual attire—a black down jacket and relaxed pants. The simple outfit looked stunning on him, as if he were a natural clothes horse.
Song Yu’s mind was still foggy, tinged with the grumpiness of interrupted sleep.
She frowned, thoroughly displeased. “What is it?” Even in her irritation, her voice came out soft and sticky, like a kitten’s petulant mew.
Through the corridor light spilling into the dim room, Pei Zhi caught sight of Song Yu’s dazed face. Her eyelids drooped heavily, her thick lashes fluttering like tiny fans.
Barefoot, she revealed prettily shaped toes. With her eyes not fully open, she wobbled unsteadily, her body swaying just a bit.
Her white silk nightgown draped elegantly, accentuating her lovely figure. Two small, adorable swells rose at her chest, with tousled black hair spilling messily between them. Barefaced, she appeared softer than usual, stripped of any edge.
“…”
Pei Zhi’s gaze deepened, his lashes lowering.
He realized that waking her at this hour was indeed inappropriate.
He formed a loose fist with his left hand and coughed lightly against his lips. “Get yourself together. It’s time to head out.”
Song Yu mumbled, “So early.”
Her brain hadn’t fully woken. She braced one hand on the door handle and pushed it wide, as if inviting him inside.
Turning away, she flopped back onto the bed and curled up with the quilt clutched between her legs.
Her nightgown rode up nearly to her thighs, baring two slender, snow-white legs that dazzled the eye.
“Let me sleep just a little longer,” Song Yu murmured, burying her face in the pillow and nuzzling it like a kitten. Her soft pleas scratched at his heart.
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
He glanced at his wristwatch, let out a soft sigh, and stepped into the room.
In the end, Song Yu didn’t rise until nearly noon. The shadows under her eyes were even darker than before. She rushed through her grooming.
Beneath her coat, she selected a light pink knit shawl sweater, layered over a matching camisole. The color made her skin gleam like fresh snow. A delicate chain necklace graced her neck, ending in a plump pearl. The soft, flowing fabric of her long skirt lent her an air of elegant gentleness.
Once dressed, Song Yu began applying her makeup.
Pei Zhi lounged lazily on the sofa, his long legs propped up. “That’s plenty. You look beautiful without any.”
Song Yu patted layer after layer of powder over the mirror to conceal the love bites on her neck.
His attitude irked her. She snatched a pillow from the bed and hurled it at him. “Stop rushing me.”
Pei Zhi took the full brunt. It didn’t hurt, but the pillow was damp.
He wisely fell silent, merely glancing at the time.
Only on the way to the airport did Song Yu learn that Pei Zhi’s friend didn’t live in Ny-Ålesund.
Though they’d dawdled quite a bit, they caught the last flight out.
The Arctic Circle encompassed eight countries, putting destinations remarkably close.
Aboard the plane, the sky grew noticeably brighter.
Traveling from 78° N latitude toward lower latitudes felt like chasing the sun itself, reminiscent of the mythical Kuafu in pursuit of the day.
Song Yu spent the entire flight catching up on sleep, dead to the world. The long hours slipped by in an instant.
Kiruna, a small Swedish town at 85° N latitude, had not yet entered polar night.
After disembarking, Song Yu squinted against the light. Though merely four or five days without sunlight, it felt like an eternity. The sight filled her with longing, lifting her spirits.
The city’s roads had been cleared of snow, leaving a thin white sheen. The streets lay cold and empty, with few cars or pedestrians, the chill wrapping the place in a desolate hush.
Even though polar night hadn’t arrived in Kiruna, Song Yu found it far more oppressive than Ny-Ålesund.
A biting wind whipped down the streets unchecked, offering no escape.
Song Yu tucked in her neck, burying her chin in her scarf.
“How do you know someone here?” she asked offhandedly.
Pei Zhi draped his arm around her, drawing her into the shelter of his embrace to block the wind gusting from behind.
“Kiruna is Sweden’s iron ore hub. I did geological research here once. During a mine collapse, we got trapped inside for seven days. Andrei shared half his last piece of bread with me.”
He recounted the brush with death in a casual tone.
Song Yu tilted her head up to gaze at him. His jawline was sharp and defined, his presence cool yet resolute.
In the past, she could scarcely imagine someone who’d traveled so widely, with such a wealth of experiences.
Song Yu reached out and hugged his waist, rubbing her cheek gently against his arm in a gesture of belated comfort.
“Were you scared?”
“I didn’t feel much at the time,” Pei Zhi said, pausing. “But now? Yeah, I’m scared.”
His eyes dipped to meet hers. “Otherwise, I never would have met you.”
Song Yu: “…”
She’d never realized how adept he was at sweet talk—delivered so earnestly and sincerely that it left her flustered.
Her face flushed; she lowered her gaze and fell quiet.
Their destination lay just a short distance from the airport. After rounding two curving streets, they arrived before a rundown two-story red house with a sharply pitched roof.
A wooden door stood at the top of five or six steps, blanketed in thick snow interspersed with dead leaves and branches. It looked long neglected.
Pei Zhi stepped forward and knocked.
Song Yu trailed behind him, feeling a touch nervous. She wondered if their visit might seem intrusive.
After a long wait, footsteps pattered from inside—dah-dah-dah. To her surprise, a delicate little girl of five or six answered the door, standing on tiptoe to reach the handle.
The girl’s golden hair fell in soft waves. She tilted her head, her big round eyes blinking curiously, one hand clutching the ear of a rabbit plush toy whose legs dragged dirtily on the floor.
She asked something in Swedish, her voice timid and laced with unease.
Pei Zhi seemed taken aback as well but replied in Swedish.
Song Yu couldn’t follow a word.
Then a burly man emerged from the house, clad in blue work pants and a plaid shirt strained taut over his protruding belly, as if the buttons might pop at any moment.
He swayed unsteadily, a bottle of brandy clutched in his hand with only a shallow layer remaining.
Peering through the doorway, Song Yu noted the dim light inside. The floor was littered with empty bottles and cans, and a thick stench of alcohol wafted out.
Puzzled, she glanced at Pei Zhi and saw his brow furrow—he clearly hadn’t expected this either.
The man blinked his bleary gray eyes and focused on Pei Zhi standing outside, as if rousing from his hangover.
“You’re here,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly.
Pei Zhi gave a soft “Mm.”
The man’s gaze shifted, landing on the woman Pei Zhi had brought. Surprise flickered in his pupils, though the alcohol dulled his reactions, leaving him sluggish.
“Hello, Andrei,” he said, extending a hand in brief introduction. At least he spoke English.
Song Yu had little patience for greeting drunks, even if he was Pei Zhi’s friend. She couldn’t help her instinctive aversion.
After a long hesitation, she offered her hand and released it immediately.
“Song Yu,” she replied, her tone far from warm.
Andrei let out a boozy belch and attempted a Chinese pronunciation of her name. It came out awkward and almost comical.
He soon gave up. “Chinese is so tough. I’ll just use your English name.”
“I don’t have one.”
Song Yu wasn’t being difficult; she truly didn’t. On one hand, she saw no need; on the other, even if she picked one, it would feel like a stranger’s label, not her own.
Andrei shrugged. “We can make one up right now.”
Song Yu shook her head. “One name is enough for a person.”
Hearing this, Andrei shrugged and glanced at Pei Zhi. “You’re saying the same thing as him. He doesn’t have an English name either.”
Pei Zhi had been standing silently off to the side, arms crossed and thin lips pressed together as he quietly stared at Andrei.
Andrei waved them in. “Come on inside.”
He turned and ambled back toward the house, his words slurring slightly. “It’s a bit of a mess. Make yourselves at home.”
Andrei gestured toward the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll go get dinner ready.”
“Isn’t Alice here?” Pei Zhi asked, a note of doubt in his voice.
Andrei’s grip tightened on his beer bottle. After a long pause, he finally explained, “She’s at work.”
Pei Zhi watched his retreating back, his gaze full of scrutiny. It was obvious Andrei was lying, but Pei Zhi didn’t call him on it, preserving the fragile decorum of adulthood.
The little girl who had been trailing behind them, completely ignored until now, lifted her head and called out “Daddy” in a timid whisper. Her voice was so soft that only Song Yu heard it as she walked past.
Swedes spoke Swedish and English, the latter picked up in school. Song Yu had no idea how to communicate with her. Approaching too directly might only make the little one more nervous.
Pei Zhi, however, bent down and scooped up the little one, settling her on his arm. His long, pale fingers gently booped the tip of her tiny nose.
“Mia, do you remember your uncle?” His voice was far gentler than usual, soft and coaxing like he was speaking to a baby.
It was the first time Song Yu had heard him speak Swedish. The language had an innate elegance to it, with tones that lingered and blended smoothly, and when paired with the low, magnetic timbre of his voice, it was captivating.
Mia’s eyes held pure, innocent confusion. She tilted her head, thinking it over, then nodded emphatically.
One arm looped around his neck while the other pointed toward the wall above the fireplace.
Pei Zhi carried her over.
The logs in the fireplace had burned out long ago, leaving nothing but cold, ashy black remnants. The room’s temperature was scarcely warmer than outside.
The wall was absolutely covered in photos, each one meticulously framed in polished cherry wood.
Mia leaned out from Pei Zhi’s arms and pressed her small hand against one of them.
Song Yu leaned in to peer at the one she’d indicated.
The picture showed four people. Mia was even smaller back then, dressed in a pink onesie and curled up in a woman’s lap.
The woman had striking, deep-set features—the epitome of a European beauty—in a dainty floral dress.
Andrei’s long arm was slung over Pei Zhi’s shoulder. He looked far more vibrant than he did now, not nearly so heavy, flashing a wide grin full of straight white teeth.
Pei Zhi stood straight and tall, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his expression lazy and relaxed.
Mia’s pudgy little hand slapped against another photo.
This one featured only Andrei and Pei Zhi, still with their arms around each other. It had the grainy quality of an old film camera shot, thick with vintage texture and a sense of age.
Pei Zhi’s hair was cropped much shorter then, buzzed close to his scalp in a neat, no-nonsense style. He wore a plain white T-shirt and casual pants, the shirt splattered with stubborn dark stains. His shoulders were slightly hunched, exhaustion plain in the faint shadows under his eyes.