The basketball court wasn’t large, only a little over three meters wide. Spectators had to crowd right up against the edges just to keep out of the playing area.
There were plenty of idle people around that evening, forming a full circle around the court. There was hardly any spare room to stand outside the lines.
By the time Song Yu arrived, there were no good spots left. She had to stand under one of the baskets.
Soon, both teams took the court.
He Fu was on one of them. He raised a hand to wave at Song Yu.
Song Yu had her head down, lost in thought. It took her a moment to react.
“Come to cheer for me?” He Fu pointed at the colorful pom-poms clutched conspicuously in her arms.
Song Yu shook them with a playful grin. “Go team.”
Pei Zhi brought up the rear of his team. His eyes were lowered, but he had caught their exchange. His face remained impassive, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Wu Yue arrived just before tip-off. She took the pom-poms from Song Yu and headed toward a spot in the middle of the court. Before she went, she didn’t forget to remind her, “Take lots of photos, okay? Thanks, Director Song! Love you!”
Song Yu shook her head helplessly and opened her camera.
The basket on her side belonged to the Expedition Team. Though Song Yu made a deliberate effort not to photograph Pei Zhi, he kept drifting into her shots anyway.
And she had to admit, Pei Zhi looked incredibly handsome playing basketball. Every time she captured him—even if he was just at the edge of the frame—everyone else faded into the background. Her eyes were inevitably drawn to him.
One candid shot in particular caught him slamming a dunk, his hand gripping the rim as the ball blurred downward. His body was a study in fluid lines, his legs straight and impossibly long, tall and graceful like a jade tree in the wind.
During halftime, Song Yu scrolled through her photos one by one. The more she looked, the more irritated she felt, as if Pei Zhi’s good looks were some personal affront.
That’s when Wu Yue squeezed over. “How’d they turn out?”
Song Yu’s expression was blank. “All trash.”
“No way.” Wu Yue snatched the camera and peered at the screen. Her eyes lit up. “These are great. What trash?”
She scrolled through them, sighing in admiration. “Gotta say, Captain Pei’s face is handsome from every angle. No bad shots, whatever the view—this leg, this waist. Perfection.”
“It’s got a sourpuss vibe, though.”
Song Yu: “…”
Wu Yue thought for a moment and came up with a reasonable explanation. “The other team’s defense on him was brutal today. And Zhang Cheng wasn’t helping—Captain Pei fed him a few passes, but he kept bricking them. Total trash.”
“Would’ve been better to pass to He Fu,” Wu Yue muttered under her breath. “But why didn’t Captain Pei keep feeding He Fu earlier?”
Song Yu saw she’d gone through most of the photos. “Okay, give it back. I’ll delete the trash ones.”
Wu Yue clutched the camera protectively. “Nope. Not a single delete.”
As the second half was about to start, Song Yu’s enthusiasm had waned. She made an excuse and left.
Worried she’d delete the photos, Wu Yue kept the camera and took over as photographer.
It wasn’t until eleven at night that Wu Yue returned to the room. Out in the corridor, Zhang Cheng’s voice drifted in.
“You can’t hold your liquor, so quit drinking and get some rest.”
“Got it, got it! Senior Brother, you weren’t as handsome as my director today, but you were still awesome! Didn’t let the team down!”
Zhang Cheng snorted a laugh, clearly in high spirits. “Get lost.”
Song Yu heard the door open and close next door. She was propped up in bed with her tablet. Lifting her eyes, she asked, “Why so late?”
Wu Yue wobbled a bit as she leaned against the doorframe to take off her shoes. She grinned. “Expedition Team won, so everyone hit the bar for a round.”
“They only pulled it off thanks to Captain Pei. You missed it—he went beast mode after you left. Xiao Chi and those guys couldn’t stop him.”
“…” Song Yu had just parted with Pei Zhi on bad terms that evening. She really didn’t want to hear Wu Yue go on about him endlessly.
She fixed Wu Yue with a stare, frowning. “Where’s the camera?”
Wu Yue was spotless and neat when she came back—clearly empty-handed.
“Huh?!” Wu Yue smacked her forehead as it hit her. “I think I left it at the bar.”
“I’ll go get it.” She started to say, then bent unsteadily to put her shoes back on. Her movements were sluggish; she nearly stumbled.
“…” Song Yu sighed in exasperation, threw back the covers, got out of bed, and steadied her. “Forget it. Stay here. I’ll go.”
The months-long polar expedition was designed to give the crew plenty of downtime on board the Snowfield Ship, complete with a little bar for recreation.
Song Yu pushed open the door and was hit with a thick wave of alcohol fumes.
Three people sat at the long, curved bar. Xiao Chi stood behind it, brandishing a cocktail shaker with flair.
“Nice one, Xiao Chi. Coffee’s not your thing, but damn, you’ve got the mixology moves down pat.” The captain’s voice was rough and booming, audible from across the room.
Song Yu narrowed her eyes. The bar’s lighting was dim; she could only make out silhouettes.
He Fu sat right by the door and spotted her immediately. He straightened up and waved. “Teacher Song, what brings you here?”
At some point, He Fu had switched to calling Song Yu “Teacher.” He was two years younger than her, so “Director Song” felt too formal, but just “Song Yu” seemed too distant.
Song Yu recognized his voice and walked over to explain. “I’m picking up Wu Yue’s camera. She left it behind.”
“Talk about timing. Zhang Cheng just noticed and took it over. Didn’t you run into him?”
Song Yu shook her head. “Must’ve missed in the elevator.”
“Hey, you’re here now—have a couple drinks.” The captain reached under the bar for a clean glass and started pouring whiskey into it.
Song Yu froze, a bit awkward as she stood there, searching for a polite refusal.
It was the middle of the night; she really didn’t feel like drinking.
At that moment, the man in the corner of the bar reached out a hand and stopped the captain’s bottle. He poured the half-filled glass back into his own.
“I need more.” The man’s voice was cool and low.
After blocking the pour, he lowered his head again. Strands of dark hair fell over his forehead, hiding his expression. Only the sharp bridge of his nose and the chiseled line of his jaw were visible.
Song Yu’s gaze lingered on him for a beat before she looked away, feigning indifference.
The captain grumbled, “That’s all the booze I brought. You’ve polished off most of it tonight.”
Pei Zhi didn’t respond. He downed the contents of his glass in one go. His neck arched elegantly, skin pale, Adam’s apple bobbing.
The captain had spent the evening with him and could tell he was in a foul mood. He tsked in annoyance. “Won the game and still pulling that sour face.”
He turned away, ignoring Pei Zhi to chat with Song Yu instead.
“Little Song, you settling in okay on the ship these past few days?”
“I’ve been swamped lately—no time to introduce you properly to everyone.” Instead of pouring her whiskey, the captain produced a can of apple juice from somewhere, cracked it open, and filled her glass.
Song Yu figured she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, so she sat down and humored him with a smile. “Yeah, it’s fine. Watching everyone with their experiments has been interesting.”
“That’s right—I’ve spotted you in the wheelhouse a bunch, snapping pics of He Fu and the others working the deck.” The captain glanced at He Fu with a teasing grin. “Looks like you two are getting pretty chummy.”
He Fu scratched his head. “Nah, I wanted to shoot a Vlog, so I asked Teacher Song to show me how.”
That piqued the captain’s interest. “Oh? Vlog, huh? You young folks love that stuff. My daughter went to Hainan a bit ago and showed me one she made.”
“You lucked out finding such a pro teacher right away. A big-shot director with a billion at the box office—you don’t get tutorials from her every day.”
Joking aside, the captain grew serious. “Still, be careful. Don’t film anything sensitive or classified.” Plenty of things on the Snowfield Ship weren’t fair game for photos.
He Fu nodded. “Yeah, I know. Just some educational stuff on ocean plankton.”
While they chatted, Xiao Chi dawdled behind the bar, polishing glasses and sneaking glances at Song Yu, muttering to himself.
After a bit, he snapped his fingers as if remembering something. “Ah! You’re Song Yu!”
Song Yu jumped at his sudden, hearty shout.
Xiao Chi set down his glass, realizing he’d gotten carried away. He toned it down with a sheepish grin. “No wonder you looked so familiar. You’re way prettier in person than in photos.”
“I’m a huge fan of your films—watched every one! Especially the latest, that whole back-to-the-primitive-forest vibe. Pure man’s romance.” Xiao Chi was clearly excited, words tumbling out. “Captain, you should’ve said Director Song was on board.”
“We had that first-day meeting. I was gonna have her say a few words.” The captain had mentioned it to Song Yu before, but she’d turned him down.
Song Yu smiled. “I’m behind-the-scenes crew, not some actor or idol. No need.”
“Right, Director Song—so why’d you join the Arctic expedition?” Xiao Chi asked.
Song Yu took a sip of apple juice to ease the embarrassment and pressure from his excessive enthusiasm. “I’m preparing a documentary, and I’m using this polar scientific expedition as a chance to gather material.”
“Oh, I see. Have you decided what to film yet?”
Song Yu shrugged. “Not yet.”
Her work had stalled completely while on the ship. Filming the expedition team’s daily routines had produced plenty of good footage, but it still hadn’t touched something deep inside her. It wasn’t what she truly wanted to capture.
A gust of wind swept through the bar as Zhang Cheng returned with the camera and pushed open the door.
“Alright, alright, enough with the questions.” The Captain raised his glass and tapped it against the table before standing up. “Come on, everyone—let’s have a toast.”
“…”
Song Yu stood up too, her peripheral vision instinctively flicking toward the man in the corner.
Pei Zhi was still keeping his head down. He hadn’t stirred once during their conversation, showing no interest in joining in. His index finger rested on the rim of his glass, rubbing back and forth.
“Pei Zhi.” The Captain patted his shoulder in reminder.
Only then did Pei Zhi slowly rise to his feet.
“You should toast with Little Song too.” The Captain gestured toward her. “Come to think of it, she’s attached to your research group, isn’t she? Li Zhen even gave me a heads-up, asking me to look after her. Do you two know each other?”
“…”
Pei Zhi paused mid-motion and lifted his eyes to Song Yu. His gaze held an emotion she couldn’t quite read.
Song Yu met his eyes for an instant, her lashes fluttering, before she lowered her head and looked away.
An odd tension hung between them.
Zhang Cheng jumped in to help. “Captain Pei is always swamped with work—even I hardly ever see him. Last time we finally got a chance to game together, we were too busy playing to chat much.”
“That’s no good, Captain Pei. She’s part of your group—you ought to get to know her better. Little Song will be heading ashore with you for the surveys soon. You should take some time to show her the ropes.” The Captain pressed.
Pei Zhi’s gaze grew heavy and intense as he stared across the table at Song Yu. He gave a faint “Mm.”
His index finger tapped lightly on the rim of his glass. Then he reached out and clinked it gently against hers, positioning his rim lower than her own.
Amid the dim clamor of the bar and its pulsing background music, the crisp, clear chime of glass on glass cut through.
Song Yu froze for a second, then raised her head and looked straight into the man’s pitch-black eyes.
“Let’s get acquainted again.” His voice was low and resonant, every syllable perfectly formed and easy on the ear.
“Pei Zhi, Chinese national and anthropology researcher at Jingbei University. My main focus is social anthropology.”
“I lived in France before attending university. My grandmother was from the Apotara Tribe, so I’ve got one-quarter Native American blood. I’ve taken part in six polar expeditions—four to Antarctica and two to the Arctic. I spend most of my time surveying in the Amazon Rainforest, studying the traditional social structures of indigenous tribes.”
“…”
Song Yu stared at him, transfixed, as he recounted his life’s story in that sincere, measured tone.
For a moment, she lost herself completely, unsure how to respond.
His eyes gleamed with a deep, unwavering intensity, fixed right on her.
At some point, someone had switched on the bar’s spotlights. They swept across the room in fleeting beams, and the air seemed to freeze in place.
The Captain recovered first, clapping Pei Zhi hard on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “I meant get to know her, not give her your full biography.”
Song Yu’s glass was still pressed against Pei Zhi’s. The ice cubes inside clinked softly as they shifted, beads of condensation forming on the surface and dampening her fingertips.
After a long pause.
She lifted her other hand and grasped his glass. Her fingertips brushed the back of his hand—smooth and faintly cool.
Then she tilted it, pouring half his liquor into her own glass.
Song Yu threw her head back and drained it in one gulp.
The fiery whiskey mingled with the apple juice’s tart sweetness, bitter on her tongue and searing her throat.
Her eyes narrowed as she met his dark gaze, the corner of her mouth curving into a faint smile. “He’s drunk.”