If not for Pei Zhi telling her, Song Yu would have thought the vast expanse of white before her eyes was just a snow-covered plain beneath.
In winter, the rivers in Oymyakon froze solid under a thick layer of ice, feeling just like solid ground when stepped on.
Halfway along, they ran into Sana, who was fishing out on the river.
Sana was stationed by an ice hole he had chiseled open, slowly lowering his line bit by bit.
It was Song Yu’s first time seeing winter fishing like this, and she found it fascinating. She hurried over to the hole, camera in hand, and started snapping away.
Sana was delighted to be photographed and struck poses with great enthusiasm.
But after just a few minutes of shooting, a fish half a meter long bit the hook.
Sana hadn’t expected a catch so soon and floundered about in surprise. Luckily, Pei Zhi grabbed him from behind, keeping him from being dragged into the water by the fish.
The fish thrashed wildly in the water, but the moment it hit the shore, it was like entering an instant-freeze locker. The water on its body froze solid in seconds, and within two short minutes, it had turned into a rigid fish stick, completely motionless.
Song Yu was utterly shocked, her understanding of extreme cold refreshed once again.
Sana hoisted up the fish, grinning from ear to ear. He gave Song Yu a hearty thumbs-up.
With his very limited English vocabulary, he said, “Lucky! Lucky!”
His pronunciation was thick with rolled Rs and nasal tones, and it took Song Yu half a minute to realize he meant “lucky.”
She blinked in confusion, unsure why Sana always called her lucky whenever he saw her.
Sana switched back to the Yakut language and rattled off an excited string of words before turning to Pei Zhi for a translation.
“He usually fishes here for hours in the freezing cold without catching a thing,” Pei Zhi explained. “But the moment you showed up, the fish bit.”
Having caught one fish, Sana began packing up his gear, apparently done for the day. He chuckled and said, “Now I have more time to get back and spend with Jay.”
“Oh, right,” he added, turning to Pei Zhi. “Why don’t you and Lucky come over for dinner tonight?”
Sana had already switched to calling Song Yu “Lucky” on his own.
Pei Zhi paused at the little nickname Sana had given her, then decided he rather liked the sound of it.
His gaze drifted to where Little Lucky was still crouched on the ground not far away, squinting into the lens and snapping photos with great enthusiasm.
He waved it off politely. “No need, we don’t want to trouble Lilya.”
“It’s no trouble—this is what we’ll be eating tonight anyway.” Sana waggled the frozen fish in his hand.
Pei Zhi smiled. “Really, we’re good. Enjoy it with your family.”
Truth be told, he preferred staying in the cabin just the two of them over visiting Sana’s place. Besides, Song Yu probably wouldn’t want to go to a stranger’s house she barely knew either.
“Song Yu, let’s go,” he urged.
“Coming, coming.” Song Yu rushed to take a few more shots before the ice hole refroze over.
“This is so cool—look!” She held the camera’s display screen up to Pei Zhi.
Pei Zhi had been in Oymyakon long enough that these everyday sights no longer fazed him, but he humored her with a few appreciative comments anyway.
Sana finished packing his gear and prepared to leave, issuing one last invitation. “Come on, come on—Lilya would be thrilled too. Jay’s always talking about playing with you.”
Pei Zhi turned him down as usual.
Song Yu tilted her head, unable to follow the Yakut, and asked, “What were you guys just talking about?”
“Nothing much. Sana invited us over for dinner,” Pei Zhi explained. “But I turned him down.”
Song Yu perked up at that. “Why’d you say no? Let’s go!”
“Pei Zhi!” she accused, using his full name. “You’ve had me eating dry bread for two days straight!”
Pei Zhi: “…”
Song Yu had been grumbling about the food he prepared every day for a while now. This was a golden chance for a home-cooked meal—how could he turn it down for her?
With no other choice, Pei Zhi hurried after Sana, who had already walked several dozen meters away.
The usually proud and unyielding Professor Pei was forced, for once, to swallow his pride and beg for a meal.
Since they still needed to fetch water, they agreed to meet up for dinner later.
Song Yu felt energized just thinking about not having to eat dry bread with Pei Zhi that evening.
But when they arrived at the water spot, she realized she couldn’t help with a single thing.
What they called “fetching water” was more accurately “harvesting ice.”
Pei Zhi cut blocks from the frozen riverbed one by one and stacked them neatly, like building a tower with blocks.
Each chunk weighed dozens of pounds. Song Yu couldn’t even dream of lifting one—hell, she couldn’t push it across the ground.
All she could do was trail after Pei Zhi, picking up stray ice shards. Even that left her panting and her throat raw with pain.
Song Yu couldn’t help marveling at how precious water was in this village. Trekking such a long way in this freezing cold to haul five or six hundred pounds of ice.
Especially since she’d wasted hot water soaking her feet the day before—it felt downright wasteful now.
“Take a break.” Pei Zhi loaded the last block onto the wooden sled, breathing heavily himself.
Song Yu sat on the edge of the sled, leaning back against the towering stack of ice. Pei Zhi sat down beside her.
“I won’t soak my feet at night anymore,” Song Yu said.
It was just too much work.
Pei Zhi glanced at her and snorted softly. “Realizing it now, are we?” He rotated his sore wrists and arms. “It’s not like your bit of water makes a difference.”
Pei Zhi grabbed the thermos from the sled and poured Song Yu a cup of hot water using the lid.
“Warm your stomach. We’ll head back once you’re done.”
Song Yu cradled the hot water, sipping it while swinging her legs. She looked up at the sky.
“I’ve noticed there aren’t many stars here.”
It had been two days, and both nights had been pitch black, empty of anything.
“Yeah, in winter there’s a lot of wood and coal burning, so the air quality suffers,” Pei Zhi explained.
“Oh.” Song Yu sounded disappointed.
“You want to see stars?” Seeing her nearly finished, Pei Zhi picked up the thermos to refill her cup.
Song Yu shook her head and handed back the lid. “You drink. I’m good.”
She picked up the thread. “In that movie I filmed recently, there’s a rooftop scene where the leads stargaze. All those stars were added in post-production.”
“Feels like you can’t see stars in the city anymore. Didn’t expect it to be the same here.” Song Yu sighed regretfully.
Pei Zhi poured himself some fresh hot water into the lid, then stood and took a couple of steps forward.
He tapped the lid with his index finger. “Look here.”
Song Yu looked up toward him.
Pei Zhi flung the water from the cup in her direction.
Song Yu’s pupils dilated in shock, and she instinctively wanted to dodge. But the sight before her held her captivated.
The scalding hot water turned into tiny ice crystals the instant it hit the air midway.
Under the sunlight’s refraction, they sparkled with prismatic light.
It was like the stars of an entire galaxy condensed together, streaking past like shooting stars in a parabolic arc before shattering onto the ground with a patter.
Song Yu blinked, then lit up with excitement. She fumbled for her camera.
“Quick, do it again! Again!”
Pei Zhi smiled at her childlike glee— she was practically clapping— and obliged with another toss.
The camera clicked away in rapid succession, capturing the flurry of ice crystals.
Song Yu flipped through the photos one by one. Though they were of the ice crystals, many featured Pei Zhi’s figure as well.
The man’s tall, lean silhouette was enveloped in the shimmering flecks, tender and romantic.
Her attention kept drifting from the crystals in the foreground to him, making his presence impossible to ignore.
Song Yu selected one without Pei Zhi in it, transferred it to her phone, and casually posted it to her social feed.
Likes poured in almost immediately.
Xu Zhouxu commented below: “Where’s this?!”
Song Yu replied, “Oymyakon.”
A few minutes later, Xu Zhouxu DMed her directly.
Xu Zhouxu: “What are you doing in a place that cold?”
Song Yu kept it short: “Vacation.”
Xu Zhouxu: “With who?”
Song Yu glanced up at the man leading the reindeer ahead and typed back, “None of your business.”
Xu Zhouxu: “Oh. Bring ’em out next time.”
Song Yu: “…”
Xu Zhouxu sent a voice message.
Song Yu long-pressed to convert it to text.
“I know you better than that. Who vacations in some godforsaken middle-of-nowhere hellhole for fun?”
She didn’t need to hear it to picture his smug tone.
Song Yu hedged: “Maybe sometime. Nothing set yet.”
Xu Zhouxu fired back instantly: “What’s not set? You two official yet?”
Song Yu’s brows furrowed slightly. She tilted her head, then turned uncertainly to Pei Zhi. “Are we… together now?”
Pei Zhi eyed her suspiciously. “Weren’t we already?”
Song Yu: “…”
“Since when?” she asked.
“Since we slept together,” Pei Zhi replied without hesitation.
Song Yu hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. She flushed, mumbling softly, “That’s… pretty early then.”
“What else?” Pei Zhi lifted an eyebrow. “You want to have your cake and eat it too?”
His voice was even, but it carried an undeniable pressure.
“…”
No way, no how.
Xu Zhouxu, seeing no reply for ages, sent three question marks: “Huh???”
Song Yu typed back: “It’s official.”
“So, what haven’t you decided on yet?” Xu Zhouxu asked.
His reaction was unusually sharp on this topic. “You don’t want to take things to the next level, do you? Weren’t we supposed to be friends for life, and whoever gets married is a dog?”
“Well, we haven’t settled on that,” Song Yu hurried to explain.
She thought for a moment, then added, “Though to be honest, I’m not as opposed to it anymore.”
“…”
“Whatever, I won’t meddle,” Xu Zhouxu said. “Just make sure you bring him out to meet everyone when you get back.”
He was genuinely curious now—what kind of person could catch Song Yu’s eye and even get her to compromise like this?
“We’ll see,” Song Yu replied. “He’s really busy.”
Xu Zhouxu fell silent for a moment. He could tell Song Yu had truly changed. Back in the day, her go-to excuse for turning down a guy would have been that she herself was too busy. She never would have considered someone else’s schedule.
A grown girl can’t be kept at home.
Xu Zhouxu sent an emoji of pinching the philtrum.
To spare himself any more heartache, he changed the subject. “So, what’s fun about the place you’re at?”
Song Yu sent him a bunch of photos.
“Holy crap, that fish froze solid in no time flat!” Xu Zhouxu exclaimed. “How cold is it over there?”
He paused, then asked in all seriousness, “What if you peed outside? Think your little brother would freeze off?”
Song Yu rolled her eyes. Only Xu Zhouxu would ask something that ridiculous.
Still, it was kind of intriguing.
She repeated the question to Pei Zhi. “Why don’t you give it a try?”
“No,” Pei Zhi said flatly.
Not one to miss out on the fun, Song Yu pressed, “Come on, just try it.”
Pei Zhi shot her a glance, his thin lips parting slightly. “What if it gets frozen? How am I supposed to serve you then?”
Song Yu froze for a second, then shot him a shy, annoyed glare.
“I won’t need it for the next few days anyway,” she shot back, refusing to back down.
Pei Zhi let out a soft snort, the corner of his mouth curving up. “You sure have a heart.”