Tent

The exhaustion from climbing the snowy mountain had sent most people into a fitful sleep, and Wang Fugui was no exception.

He crawled into his sleeping bag, and almost as soon as it had warmed up, he fell asleep.

He didn't know how long had passed when his heavy eyelids lifted slightly. Outside, a blizzard battered the tent, but thankfully it was sturdy enough to withstand it.

The noise had woken him.

There was a rustling sound, as if someone were approaching his tent—or perhaps circling it. The moment the image formed in his mind, he snapped fully awake, cold sweat beading on his body.

He held his breath and didn't dare move. Then a beam of light fell on his tent, bright and white, like the flashlight on a phone.

A figure appeared on the tent, drawing nearer, accompanied by footsteps. It seemed someone was using a phone flashlight to find their way toward him.

When the figure came close, the tent rustled. Black, fluffy clumps began sliding down all around it. The fat man let out a breath, imagining it was one of the people on night watch clearing the snow off his tent.

"The snow's too heavy. It could crush your tent, so don't sleep too soundly," the person outside said.

The fat man recognized the voice. It was the doctor's. He usually answered whenever the doctor spoke to him, but this time he hesitated. The figure outside felt strangely unfamiliar, even though that familiar silhouette was clearly cast on the tent.

The fat man quietly picked up his phone. The next moment, it vibrated, and a message arrived.

As he read it, his fingers began to tremble. "Brother Fugui, don't open the tent. I heard the sound too." The sender was Huai Yi.

A second message