Chapter Thirty-Four: Heavy Snow Blocks the Road

The Takamagahara planet, being much farther from the sun, is a world of bitter cold. Humanity's survival here depends on the shallow geothermal heat beneath its surface. Simply put, wherever there is a large enough hot spring, people can live there.

At the planet's poles, geothermal resources are most abundant and concentrated, giving rise to Takamagahara’s two largest urban centers—Southern Terminus City and Northern Extremity City.

In Northern Extremity City, geothermal supply relies mainly on the “Hot Sea” in the Jinchuan District—a vast expanse of scenic hot spring lakes. The closer one is to the Hot Sea, the more plentiful the heat, and the more pleasant the climate. For example, the government avenue where the Tsukimiya family resides lies along the narrow bay of the hot lake, the most comfortable and most expensive area in all of Northern Extremity City.

Beyond Northern Extremity City, wherever there are no hot springs, temperatures hold steady at minus twenty degrees Celsius or lower. Only wolves, snow hares, snow mice, and tundra lichens and mosses can survive in such a harsh polar wilderness.

The coach rumbled across the ice fields. Most passengers had drawn their curtains, as the world outside was nothing but blinding white, so dazzling that it threatened to sear one’s vision. Having prepared in advance, Chen Zi’ang wore sunglasses and felt none of the symptoms of snow blindness. He left a small gap in the curtain, carefully observing the wintry landscape outside.

It was truly his first time venturing beyond the boundaries of Northern Extremity City.

In the early days, when the region was less developed, if a vehicle broke down on the road, rescue could only come from passing cars. The engine had to run twenty-four hours a day, for outside was a world of minus twenty degrees. If the fuel ran out or the heater failed, when help arrived, they would find a busful of passengers frozen beneath the snow.

Nowadays, search-and-rescue satellites and professional field teams have made such accidents exceedingly rare, but those terrible stories linger in the minds of Northern Extremity City’s citizens, instilling an instinctive dread of the icy wilds beyond.

Suddenly, Chen Zi’ang’s gaze sharpened.

He saw a wolf.

More precisely, over a dozen wolves.

Their build and coloring were much like those of huskies or Alaskan sled dogs, but their bearing was entirely different. Their jaws remained tightly shut, tails tucked between their legs, as they swiftly flanked the rear of the bus, treating it as prey to pursue.

Chen Zi’ang watched silently as one wolf drew near the window, then leaped up, striking the side of the bus with a heavy, muffled thud.

“What’s going on?” Tsukimiya Suzuna, who had been absorbed in her phone beside him, looked up in curiosity at the sound.

“Nothing,” Chen Zi’ang replied. “A wild wolf pack.”

“Wolves?” The two girls in the front row were startled. They quickly opened their curtains, delightedly pulling out their phones to take photos. “It’s real!”

“Don’t open the windows!” the driver barked from the front. “It’s minus twenty out there!”

The warning had its effect; no one dared to open the windows or try to feed the wolves. Everyone contented themselves with snapping pictures through the glass.

This sparked in Chen Zi’ang a strange thought: what if there were no bus to protect them? In a rural village, out in the wild without shelter, would these passengers still smile so cheerfully at the wolves?

The absurd idea flashed through his mind and was quickly suppressed.

Realizing there was no food to be had, the wolf pack chased the bus for a while then stopped, lingering in place.

The passengers were disappointed, and the mood returned to quiet boredom.

The journey from Northern Extremity City to Lingyi Town would take fifteen hours and twenty minutes. Everyone had come prepared, downloading movies, music, eye masks, and headphones to while away the long, tedious passage.

Chen Zi’ang continued searching for information about Lingyi Town. Of course, the previous ceremony at the Hidden Remains Shrine—a typical, serious anomaly that had to be concealed from the public—was nowhere to be found online.

He had messaged Rui Kazehaya but received no reply. Turning to look, he saw that Rui had already donned her eye mask and fallen asleep in the back row.

Well, I’ll rest for a bit too.

Just as Chen Zi’ang was about to settle in, his right shoulder was suddenly weighted down.

Tsukimiya Suzuna, half-asleep, had leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Tsukimiya?” Chen Zi’ang called softly.

She didn’t respond, seemingly already asleep.

“Tsukimiya!” He raised his voice a little, which prompted the two girls in front to look back, then turn away again with a conspiratorial giggle, whispering excitedly.

The sting of being gossiped about was, for a certain staunchly straightforward man, far worse than having a girl sleep on his shoulder.

To avoid attracting more attention, Chen Zi’ang abandoned any hope of waking her, instead gently draping the sweater from his lap over Tsukimiya Suzuna.

Perhaps because she was too comfortable, she suddenly reached out and hugged Chen Zi’ang’s right arm.

Chen Zi’ang: …

I suspect she’s pretending to sleep, but I have no proof.

His arm seemed to sink into a warm cloud. To dispel the fleeting romantic thoughts, Chen Zi’ang closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

His consciousness gradually faded into darkness.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he seemed to hear someone calling his name.

Was it Tsukimiya Suzuna’s voice?

She appeared before him, tears streaming down her face, clutching his hand desperately, her expression weak and filled with terror and despair.

Chen Zi’ang jolted awake from the dream.

The bus was still silent; everyone seemed to be asleep, and outside, the snowstorm raged, obscuring any view of the distant landscape.

Tsukimiya Suzuna still had her eyes closed, but her head was now turned away, no longer resting on his shoulder.

It seemed he had only been dreaming…

He glanced at her again. Even without her usual radiant smile, her beauty remained undiminished in sleep. Strands of hair fell messily across her cheeks, adding a delicate vulnerability to her refined features. Her lips glistened softly, likely coated in balm to prevent chapping, exuding a faint, alluring cherry scent.

Her beauty was almost ethereal, unreal.

Suddenly, Chen Zi’ang felt the bus was unnaturally still. The usual jostling of the ride had vanished.

“Driver?” He hurriedly stood and asked, “Has the bus stopped?”

“The snow is too heavy, I can’t drive,” the driver replied without turning. “We’re very close to Lingyi Town. I’ve already asked the locals to come fetch us.”

The conversation roused the sleeping passengers. Tsukimiya Suzuna awoke, groggy, and asked:

“What’s wrong, senior?”

“We’ve stopped,” Chen Zi’ang answered.

The driver explained to the curious passengers that the snow ahead was too deep to see the road, and if they veered off course, it would be troublesome. The town had already sent snowplows to pick them up.

But Chen Zi’ang still felt something was off. He opened his phone and checked the weather app, pinpointing their location.

Sure enough, the forecast showed no snow—clear skies instead.

Weather forecasts are based on satellite observations of cloud movement and predictive modeling.

But what if the storm outside was not the work of nature, but some unknown, mysterious force?