Chapter Thirty-Four: The Arctic Wolf

“Shall we talk about something?” Ji Ning tried to break the silence, fearing that he might quietly freeze in this stillness. He thought he was good at enduring loneliness, but when the only sounds left in the world were the rhythm of his own breathing, and the only sights before him were snow and the mist of his exhaled breath, here on this frozen tundra older than original sin itself, Ji Ning felt suffocated by the weight of ancient memories.

It was too lonely—enough to make one want to say something, anything, to warm oneself.

Katherine did not reply. After a long, long while—so long that Ji Ning nearly believed they had both died out on the arctic wasteland—she spoke softly, “Do you know the capital of Belgium?”

No matter how many times she asked, Ji Ning would never know the answer. He couldn’t even fathom why Katherine would pose such a question. Was it that only by knowing the capital of Belgium could their conversation continue? He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”

What kind of conversation was this? Did he really have to know that Brussels was the capital of Belgium just to talk with her? This damned threshold for conversation was higher than any dating requirement of height or bank balance. She was as mysterious as the treasure cave from “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves”—you had to know the secret password to step inside her heart.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t overheard the password. He was not that person.

“Brussels,” Katherine said slowly, as if the words needed to thaw before they could reach the air. “There are twelve chocolate factories there, sixteen chocolate museums, and two thousand chocolate shops—the whole city must be filled with the scent of cocoa.”

She seemed to realize her topic was out of place, glanced at Ji Ning apologetically, as if only someone as dull and peculiar as herself would harbor such a strange fascination with distant lands she’d never seen.

“When we leave this snowfield, you can go see those chocolate factories for yourself. Try the taste.”

After this perfunctory line, Ji Ning opened his mouth but found nothing to say. In twenty years of solitude, he’d never been alone with a girl, let alone learned how to chat in such situations. Belgium, Brussels—he knew nothing, just as he knew nothing of Katherine’s thoughts now. Silence continued to grow wild in the tiny icy cave.

But even the fiercest storm eventually passes. The journey went on, and stories without endings always find their turning points.

When Katherine awoke, Ji Ning was snoring unceremoniously. The insulated shelter was thick with his presence. She shifted, and the part of her leg numbed by cold told her, with a fierce pang, that nothing had changed.

She, Katherine Ivanova, an eighteen-year-old girl from Chelyabinsk, now had a broken left shin. The blizzard had buried nearly all her companions; only the slumbering boy beside her remained.

Katherine stretched her fingers toward the air vent. The temperature difference between inside and out instantly numbed her hand, but she felt enough to know the blizzard had passed. Only the eternal wind still swept the icy plain.

“Ji Ning.” Katherine didn’t hesitate, even though he was sleeping soundly. She’d rather move before their energy ran out completely.

Half-awake, Ji Ning yawned. The chill in his limbs brought him to full alertness—and the sense of helplessness over their predicament made him uneasy. Yet, when his eyes fell upon the girl beside him, he buried that anxiety deep in his heart.

“Has the blizzard stopped?”

“It has.”

“Shall we set out?”

“Yes.”

A brief exchange, and Ji Ning packed their things and resumed his role as sled dog. Katherine hid herself under her hood, watching as he secured her onto the makeshift sled—loop after loop of rope.

“That’s enough.” Katherine’s voice was cool, her wind-burned cheeks faintly flushed.

Ji Ning, about to finish the last knot, was timid enough to tie it normally and then set off, dragging the sled. “Which way?”

“Toward the sun.” Katherine coughed. Though her injury had been roughly treated, blood loss and the biting air made her weaker.

Other than snow and ice, there was nothing in this world. Even the wind’s howl was muffled by the heavy snow. Anyone walking here would soon be fooled into thinking everywhere was the same, an endless silence. Perhaps they were the only living things this land had seen in millions of years.

“Ji Ning.”

It was a faint call—Ji Ning wondered if he was hearing things. Just as he considered whether to admit this to Katherine, the voice came again.

“Ji Ning.”

This time he heard it clearly. He turned and found Katherine watching him with an indescribable expression.

For a moment, Ji Ning half-suspected he’d pressed some secret button. It was hard to imagine shyness on Katherine’s face—she was always reserved, as if every other emotion required payment.

“What is it?” Ji Ning stopped, worried she’d come down with a fever.

“I…” Katherine lowered her head, the hood covering her eyes. Ji Ning waited, but she said nothing more.

“What’s wrong?” Ji Ning was baffled. Of all times, why keep secrets now? Who could say how long they’d survive in this frozen wasteland?

“I need to use the bathroom.” The words were barely audible.

But Ji Ning heard her. He was silent for a moment, then went over to untie her, and politely turned away.

“Katherine.” This time her voice was tinged with resignation.

Ji Ning turned back. Katherine was still half-lying on the sled, head bowed, as if nothing had happened.

Ji Ning nodded and went on pulling the sled. The only difference was that, now, instead of emptying his mind, he started to drift into wild thoughts.

In weather like this, it must be freezing on the backside.

Perhaps an hour passed, or two, or more—time had frozen into meaninglessness in this forsaken place. Ji Ning stopped to eat, not so much out of hunger as because SCP-CN-655 required him to replenish his energy.

Ever since Ji Ning awoke after the accident, SCP-CN-655 had maintained a crystalline state, flowing inside him. Ji Ning had called to it, but received no reply.

Yet he could feel SCP-CN-655 moving within him, like a second heart providing energy. Most notably, he felt no hunger and could pull Katherine’s sled across the ice.

After days of silence, SCP-CN-655’s first words were not a greeting but a directive: “Eat food.”

“Why haven’t you spoken to me all this time?” Ji Ning asked, mouth full of ration bar as he rummaged in his bag.

“Too cold.” SCP-CN-655’s reply was brief—no doubt the cold had frozen it solid, each word chipped out of ice.

Ji Ning recalled his ability to turn into a slime. He’d long suspected SCP-CN-655’s true form was some kind of liquid, and that the cold had turned it from water to ice.

The compressed biscuits tasted terrible—like grabbing a handful of snow, adding a bit of frozen dirt for spice, pressing it into powder, and swallowing.

“For a while, I may not be able to respond. I am changing,” SCP-CN-655’s voice was faint and slow. Ji Ning could sense the struggle in its tone.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Ji Ning licked the crumbs from his lips.

Only after Ji Ning finished the entire packet of biscuits did SCP-CN-655 reply, barely audible: “Survive.”

Ji Ning pulled out another packet and brought it to Katherine.

Surprisingly, Katherine only broke off a tiny piece and gestured for him to take the rest.

“That’s all? Are you really worried about your figure at a time like this?” Ji Ning insisted she eat more—over ten hours had passed since their last meal, and in these conditions even staying still burned up enormous energy.

“You need to keep going,” Katherine said calmly, her slender neck as pale as a swan’s.

“I’m full,” Ji Ning replied, offering the biscuits again. He didn’t believe her—if a beautiful girl could use the bathroom, she could certainly get hungry.

“How much food do we have left?” Katherine suddenly asked.

Ji Ning thought for a moment, a little hesitant. “Thirty-seven biscuits, ten cans of food.”

“Each packet of biscuits is about five thousand kilocalories. A normal person needs around twelve thousand a day here—probably more. That means we each need six biscuits a day. Even if we eat less, without resupply, we have seven days at most.” Katherine held the biscuit in her mouth, waiting for it to soften as she calculated.

“Are there rabbits on the tundra?” Ji Ning blinked.

Katherine gave him a look reserved for idiots, then finally replied, “We don’t have a gun. Even if we did, you couldn’t catch one.”

“Come on, we’re both students at Deer Academy. We can’t even catch a rabbit?” Ji Ning raised his brows.

“In this weather, any strenuous activity burns much more energy. The cost of hunting outweighs the gain.” Katherine donned her hood again, her cheeks puffed out as she chewed—like an arctic hare eating quietly near its burrow.

Ji Ning put the remaining biscuits back in his pack. As he zipped it up, a thought flashed through his mind: two people, seven days; one person, fourteen.

As if sensing his thoughts, Katherine said quietly, “If I were you, I’d ditch the dead weight. You’d have a better chance alone.”

Ji Ning didn’t look back, speaking as he walked, “It’s not time yet.”

“When will it be time?”

Ji Ning paused, then moved on. “I don’t know.”

He had considered abandoning Katherine, but only for a fleeting moment. Every time the thought passed, he remembered a film—“The Mist.” The story was simple: monsters attack, a father tries to protect his son in a fog, humanity’s dark side emerges. What stuck with Ji Ning was the ending: the desperate father kills his family to spare them from suffering, only for the mist to clear and rescue to arrive. The brutality of that ending stayed with him.

Ji Ning’s reason for persisting was simple. He truly didn’t believe Katherine would lead him out, but he believed Deer Academy would send a rescue team.

He knew he was never Fortune’s favorite, but it was entirely possible that if he abandoned Katherine, help would arrive the moment he left. Whether out of moral principle or selfishness, he didn’t want to leave her behind—those two reasons accounted for ninety percent of his resolve. The remaining ten percent was a little secret: Katherine was beautiful.

After all, Ji Ning was only just eighteen. He hadn’t been battered by life, hadn’t even had a girlfriend, so looks could easily sway him.

He didn’t know how long had passed when he heard a voice: “Thank you.”

Maybe it was his imagination, maybe not. But Ji Ning didn’t bother with polite replies—he felt he was entitled to that thanks.

Seven days later, a black dot appeared on the horizon. Even Katherine managed a smile. Ji Ning shouted in excitement and ran toward it; the dot noticed them, and both sides drew closer.

As the dot took shape, Ji Ning realized something was wrong. Katherine’s voice was unreadable: “That’s not a search-and-rescue dog.”

A gigantic husky, tail drooping, stopped thirty meters away. It raised its head—there was a scar on its long wolfish muzzle, and its yellow-black eyes locked onto its prey. A Siberian wolf, the kind seen only in nature documentaries, had come to meet Ji Ning on the tundra.

“Run!” Katherine’s voice was blocked by fear.

Ji Ning considered the heroic but foolish option of charging, then turned and fled. He suddenly remembered a story: when faced with a wild beast, you don’t need to outrun it—just your companion. He didn’t know if he could outrun the hunter of ice and snow, but he knew he could outrun Katherine.

Katherine calmly watched as the starving wolf bared its fangs at her. The deadly jaws grew larger in her ice-blue eyes, and the world seemed to freeze.

“Damn you, 655!” In the end, Ji Ning couldn’t abandon Katherine. He threw himself at the leaping beast. Before fate, everyone is a gambler—only the stakes differ.

“I’m here.” He won his bet—a long-absent voice echoed in Ji Ning’s mind.

Katherine closed her eyes, but the expected pain never came.

A dark figure stood before her—a collision of two lives struggling to survive the ice and snow. In that moment, Ji Ning was covered in pale blue liquid, armored as if for battle, feeling a power he had never known.

Driven by hunger, the wolf broke free and retreated, circling, golden eyes full of a hunter’s cruelty.

Both adversaries knew this fight would end in death.

Food was scarce on the tundra. This male wolf, already thin with hunger, had trailed a wounded elk for three days, but the elk had found an unfrozen stream, and the running water erased its scent. Hunger hadn’t killed the wolf yet—just made it more dangerous.

Ji Ning had eaten the last can of luncheon meat the previous day. He regretted not searching the camp more thoroughly. Now, all that was left in his pack was a can of Swedish surströmming that must have belonged to someone with peculiar tastes. Even the ever-calm Katherine recoiled at the sight, swearing she’d rather eat the can than touch that evil food.

The wolf wanted to eat them—but people needed to eat wolf, too.

It bared its teeth, snarling at Ji Ning. The sight of a wolf as big as a calf was enough to terrify him, but he forced himself to snarl back. Hunger had robbed the wolf of patience; it wasted precious energy circling its prey, searching for a fatal weakness born of fear. Ji Ning refused to show it, placing his trust in SCP-CN-655, absent for days.

At the instant Ji Ning called to SCP-CN-655, the wolf seized the hesitation in his eyes and charged, murder in every movement. It believed that, as with countless elk and bison, in the next second, hot blood would warm its frozen jaws, and soon the air would be thick with the scent of death.

But when it touched Ji Ning, it never needed to worry about food again. Not now, not ever. A brilliant blue light spread from Ji Ning’s hand along the wolf’s fangs—the Siberian wolf didn’t even have time to use its powerful jaws before it became an ice sculpture. Ji Ning poked it with a finger and stared in shock as his opponent shattered to pieces.

“What was that?”

“Assimilation.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

The pale blue liquid faded from Ji Ning’s skin. He still felt a little unreal. He pulled off his glove, looked at his frostbitten hand, then put it back on and went to Katherine.

That night with Qin Mo, facing the middle-aged man, SCP-CN-655 had used the same word—assimilation—but a word couldn’t explain the ice sculpture before him now.

Ji Ning was uncharacteristically silent as he helped Katherine up. As the only other witness, she chose not to ask.

Everyone has their secrets—the snow buries all questions. Survival comes before curiosity.

“What are you, really?”

“By human classification, I am a higher-dimensional life form.”

“Then why does the Foundation keep you contained?”

“There is nothing omnipotent in the universe. I am no exception.”

“What is your real purpose?”

“I just want to go home.”

Ji Ning didn’t care about SCP-CN-655’s real purpose. Whatever it was—even if it wanted to destroy the world—it had nothing to do with him. For all the times it had saved his life, he could only try to stop it, not betray it. Besides, this world wasn’t exactly friendly toward him anyway.

The taste of raw, unsalted wolf meat was indescribably bitter, but Ji Ning forced himself to cut and roast a few pieces over the fire. He wanted to take all the meat, but Katherine stopped him. “Take only some—our fuel is running low.”

The endless tundra sounds beautiful, but if all you have in your pack is a few days’ fuel and chunks of frozen wolf, with your only companion a wounded girl you can’t abandon, then this beautiful plain is hell on earth.

The howling wind made Ji Ning tremble. Katherine was silent. Nature had no sympathy for two fragile humans. It didn’t need to send more creatures to kill them—the despair in their hearts was enough.

Ten thousand years ago, fire alone didn’t lead humans from their caves. They had something else, called hope.