Chapter 178: Antarctica

The engine roar of the transport plane gradually died out; the moment the cargo bay door opened, the polar chill struck their faces. Xiang Fei stood on the gangway, his exhaled white mist condensing into frost on his cold-weather mask. He squinted, gazing at the endless white wasteland before him.

"We've arrived." His voice was faint, as if speaking to himself.

Zhou Huimin followed behind him, her heavy cold-weather suit slowing her movements. She said nothing, silently taking in the place where they would live for three years.

Station Chief Sweetie approached, her face bearing the characteristic ruddy flush of long-term polar life: "Welcome to Antarctica, Avien. The rooms are ready."

Xiang Fei nodded, picked up his luggage, and walked toward the gray building half-buried in snow. His boots crunched on the snow, making a creaking sound.

At six in the morning, the generator's roar began on time. Xiang Fei opened his eyes, stared for a while at the mottled water stains on the ceiling, then got up to brew coffee. The sky outside was gray-white, indistinguishable as dawn or dusk.

Zhou Huimin was frying eggs in the kitchen; the oil in the pan sizzled. They rarely spoke, simply finishing breakfast in silence before each began their day.

The station's common area was always lively. Researchers discussed glacial data and meteorological changes, sometimes arguing endlessly over a particular technical term. Xiang Fei often sat in a corner, listening to them talk, occasionally nodding, but rarely interjecting.

"Is Aiven going out for a walk today?" the young meteorologist Green asked.

Xiang Fei shook his head: "No, the wind is too strong outside."

When the blizzard struck, the entire station trembled. The wind, carrying ice and snow, battered the windows, producing an unsettling sound. Power flickered intermittently, and dim light cast swaying shadows on the walls.

Xiang Fei sat on the sofa in the common lounge, flipping through a yellowed old magazine. Zhou Huimin knitted a sweater beside him; the yarn had been dug out of the warehouse, its color faded to white.

"Cold?" she asked without looking up.

Xiang Fei shook his head and continued flipping through the magazine. It was actually very cold, but they had both grown accustomed to this chill.

The wind outside grew louder, like the howl of some wild beast. Xiang Fei stood up and walked to the window, staring at the white expanse outside, unable to see anything clearly.

An Adélie penguin wobbled to the station entrance, tilting its head to inspect these uninvited guests. Snowflakes clung to its feathers, and its bright black eyes were filled with curiosity.

"It's lost," biologist Tom said with a smile.

Xiang Fei squatted down and locked eyes with the penguin for a moment. He pulled a biscuit from his pocket, broke it into pieces, and placed them on the snow. The penguin pecked at the ground, didn't eat, then turned and waddled away.

Zhou Huimin stood behind him and said softly: "It's not hungry."

Xiang Fei made a sound of acknowledgment, stood up, and brushed the snow from his knees. They watched the penguin gradually disappear into the wind and snow; neither spoke again.

When the sun finally vanished below the horizon, the polar night began. Time became blurred; the boundary between day and night was completely erased. Xiang Fei often woke at three in the morning, staring blankly at the eternal darkness outside the window.

Zhou Huimin began keeping a diary. She recorded daily trifles: what they ate for breakfast, who they spoke to, the weather. Her handwriting was neat, like a rigorous observation report.

"Why write all this?" Xiang Fei asked one day.

She closed the notebook and smiled: "One must record something."

When the aurora appeared, everyone in the station rushed outdoors. Green light bands danced in the night sky, unrealistically beautiful. Xiang Fei stood in the snow, his exhaled white breath quickly dissipating in the cold air.

"So beautiful," Zhou Huimin said.

Xiang Fei nodded; he took no photos and said nothing. They stood there until the aurora vanished and the cold pierced their bones.

One day three years later, they began packing their luggage. The station crew held a simple farewell party for them; Sweetir raised a beer glass and said: "Aiven, will you come back later?"

Xiang Fei shook his head: "No."

Zhou Huimin smiled and bid farewell to everyone, giving the unfinished sweater to the station's only female researcher.

On the return flight, she asked: "Where next?"

Xiang Fei looked out the window at the white continent gradually receding and said calmly: "Home."

The plane pierced through the clouds; Antarctica gradually became a tiny white dot in their field of vision, then vanished completely.

On the day they returned to Xiangjiang, the weather was fine. Sunlight struck the glass curtain walls of the skyscrapers, so bright it made one unable to open their eyes. Xiang Fei locked all the Antarctica photos into a drawer; Zhou Huimin's diary was placed on the bookshelf, occasionally glanced at, but that period was never mentioned.

Yangyang had grown quite a bit; he asked curiously: "Who are you?"

Xiang Fei patted his head: "I am your father, she is your mother."

Upon hearing this, Xiang Yang's tears flowed uncontrollably; he kept shouting, "Mom, Dad, don't leave me!" Heartbroken, Zhou Huimin shed tears and shot a glare at Xiang Fei.

Xiang Fei could only smile awkwardly.

That evening, they stood on the balcony watching the city lights. Zhou Huimin suddenly said: "The stars in Antarctica are brighter."

Xiang Fei nodded and lit a cigarette. The smoke slowly dissipated in the night sky, just like those memories left behind in the polar region, gradually becoming vague and distant.