Chapter 20 Day and Night Reversal

The snow dust kicked up by the snowmobile slowly settled, and the world was covered in a blinding white.

Ji Rendong stood there for an unknown amount of time, until his fingertips were frozen stiff, before slowly tightening his grip on the small Springer Spaniel in his palm, then turning and walking back to the research station.

Ji Rendong's life seemed to have simply "restored" to its original state.

Her schedule remains filled with research data and observation tasks, even busier than before, as if she wants to fill every possible gap that might give rise to distractions with high-intensity work.

Ji Rendong remained taciturn, his demeanor calm and professional.

But only she knew that some of her habits had quietly changed.

She would unconsciously leave carrots on her plate, stare at the orange-red color for a moment, and then silently eat them; when organizing materials in the public area at night, the empty seat next to her would make her feel an unprecedented sense of emptiness, even though there were not always people there; when passing by the room where Shi Banxia had lived, she would subconsciously quicken her pace.

Mu Xueqing couldn't help but tease, "Honeysuckle and Pinellia are gone, and you've almost lost half your soul too."

Ji Rendong simply shook his head and did not answer.

In the midsummer season, the world transitions from pure white back to a kaleidoscope of colors.

She returned to the familiar city, where the air was filled with the smell of dust, no longer the crisp, clean wind.

Shi Banxia forced herself to keep busy, taking on new filming projects, booking plane tickets, and flying to sunny places.

She captures stunning sunsets on tropical islands and bustling crowds in vibrant cities, her lenses brimming with bright light and vibrant life.

But every time the shutter clicks and the brief excitement fades, a deeper sense of confusion rises in my heart.

Those landscapes that once filled her with joy seem to be separated by an invisible layer of frosted glass, unable to truly reach her heart.

In the early days, the connection maintained a strange inertia.

Shi Banxia frequently sent messages to Ji Rendong, accumulating many messages: from hot coffee in the airport terminal to the neon lights she saw after returning to the familiar city, or the drizzling rain and the azure sea, trivial yet frequent.

"It's raining in Hawaii today." Shi Banxia pressed send on the beach of Maui, listening to the rustling of coconut palms. On the other end of the message was the research station, still in the midst of polar night and still freezing cold.

Shi Banxia shared what she saw and heard, from "The coconuts here are so sweet" to "I think I miss you a little" when she looked at the ceiling of a foreign hotel on a sleepless night.

Each message often took a long time, perhaps half a day, perhaps a whole day, before receiving a belated, brief response from Ji Rendong on the other side of the polar region:

"Okay, be careful."

"I saw it, it's beautiful."

Get some rest.

Her replies were always official, restrained, and distant.

Looking at the brief response on the screen, Shi Banxia felt her pent-up desire to share being punctured, leaking away little by little, yet she couldn't help but feel a pitiful sense of comfort for the fact that at least there was a response.

She recalled Ji Rendong's words, "This is the last time," on the eve of their parting, and a subtle bitterness welled up in her heart.

Distance and time difference are like an invisible wall; she is noisy on this side, while Ji Rendong is silent on the other.

She traveled all over the place with the little cat pendant that Ji Rendong had given her, and every time she saw it, a subtle pain would well up in her heart.

Time slips away quietly as Shi Banxia constantly switches between time zones and latitudes and longitudes.

She was like a tireless migratory bird, filling every square on her calendar with flights and itineraries.

From the humid heat of the rainforest to the dry winds of the desert, her camera captures the world's vibrant colors, but it seems unable to capture the pure tranquility deep within her heart when she was in the polar regions.

The messages she sent to Ji Rendong, which were initially full of detailed information, gradually became sparser.

It's not that I don't want to, but that one-sided venting, with the other person's delayed and brief response, starts to feel like a disturbance.

Shi Banxia began to wonder if those surging emotions were just illusions caused by extreme circumstances, and now that things were back on track, they should naturally fade out of each other's lives.

For Sister Honeysuckle, were those days really just an accident in the polar environment, and with her departure, should they have come to an end in a timely and dignified manner?

Once, Shi Banxia took a very interesting photo on a bustling street in Istanbul—a cute little white cat was lazily lying on a table in a coffee shop, with the azure sea in the background.

She excitedly sent the message to Ji Rendong, adding: "Rendong, look at this cat, doesn't it look like the keychain you gave me? But it's a plus version!"

This time, Ji Rendong took almost two days to reply, with only three simple words: "Yeah, it looks like it, it's very cute."

Shi Banxia stared at the dry response, her finger hovering over the screen for a long time, typing and deleting, finally replying with only "Mm." Then she silently closed the chat window.

In the Arctic, at the research station, Ji Rendong's life is filled with rigorous work.

She repeatedly looked through the messages Shi Banxia had sent, including the photo of the little white cat—she zoomed in and stared at it for a long time, her fingertips gently tracing the chubby cat on the screen, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Honeysuckle, have you been in contact with Pinellia lately?" Mu Xueqing asked casually during a meal.

Ji Rendong paused, holding her chopsticks, and gave a soft "hmm" in response.

"That girl posts on her WeChat Moments quite frequently, traveling all over the world. It's really exciting to watch," Mu Xueqing remarked.

Ji Rendong simply gave a low "hmm".

She never proactively contacted Shi Banxia. Every time she received a message, she would read it repeatedly, type out a long string of words, and then slowly delete it.

She actually wanted to say something like, "That was really interesting," or "It looks like you've been to a lot of places."

The words I typed always seemed out of place. After deleting and revising, all that remained was that dry sentence: "Hmm, it looks like it."

She didn't know what to say.

Asking "How are you?" seems superfluous. Sharing daily life at the research station? Monotonous and repetitive. Expressing longing? That's neither her forte nor does she feel it's appropriate.

She feared that too much concern would become a hindrance to Shi Banxia's journey; she also feared that her clumsy words would reveal her burning affection.

The contact inevitably faded. The number of messages went from a few per day to one every few days, and then... maybe not one per week.

Shi Banxia's new project took her to a seaside town in the Southern Hemisphere.

The blazing sun and the azure sea contrasted sharply with the lingering world of ice and snow in her heart.

After a day of filming, she sat on the beach, watching the sunset turn the sea golden, and suddenly felt a strong urge. She took out her phone and dialed the satellite phone at the research station.

The long, drawn-out tone on the receiver, one tone, two tonees… each one pounding on Shi Banxia's heart. Just when she thought no one would answer and was about to hang up, the call connected.

"...Banxia?" Ji Rendong's voice came through, tinged with uncertainty, accompanied by the whistling of the wind in the background.

"Sister Rendong!" Shi Banxia's voice rose slightly involuntarily, filled with excitement, "It's me! Are you outside? Am I disturbing you?"

"It's nothing, I just finished outdoor sampling." Ji Rendong's voice remained steady, but Shi Banxia caught a subtle hint of... fatigue?

"Yeah! I'm on a beach in the Southern Hemisphere, and it's summer here right now." Shi Banxia tried to keep her tone light. "I just... suddenly wanted to hear your voice."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone before Ji Rendong spoke: "Um. Are you... alright?"

"It's great, work is going smoothly."

Shi Banxia paused, and that sour feeling welled up again. "It's just... Sister Rendong, the starry sky here is also very bright, but it seems... the stars in the Arctic are still clearer."

She spoke subtly, with a cautious, tentative tone.

How could Ji Rendong not understand?

Shi Banxia was implying in her words that she missed her.

She gripped her phone tightly, her fingertips numb from the cold. Looking at the lights that had just come on in the research station, she whispered, "Yes, the air here is clean, and the visibility is better."

Another silence fell. Neither of them seemed to find the right words to say.

They once shared a natural connection under the aurora borealis, but now distance and time have created an invisible chasm between them.

"Um... it's windy where you are, you should go back quickly, don't catch a cold." Shi Banxia gave in first, her voice filled with disappointment.

Okay. You too, be careful.

"Well... goodbye, Sister Honeysuckle."

"goodbye."

The call ended, and all that remained in my ears was the sound of the waves and unfamiliar language.

Shi Banxia stared at the darkened screen, a void in her heart. This call, instead of alleviating her longing, only amplified that feeling of helplessness.

After that brief and somewhat awkward phone call, the connection between the two was like a ember gradually dying out, leaving only a few scattered sparks.

Shi Banxia's social media updates are frequent, filled with images and photos from all over the world.

Ji Rendong would read them all, but she never liked or commented on them.

She watched as Shi Banxia's life became vibrant again, and as she took photos with her new friends, her smile radiant.

Ji Rendong told herself that this was how Shi Banxia should be: vibrant, bright, and belonging to the vast world, rather than being trapped in a corner of ice and snow.

And when summer comes, she would also click on that account that was almost never updated and whose profile picture was completely white. Looking at the empty homepage, the faint hope in her heart would gradually fade away.

On New Year's Eve, Shi Banxia was in Hong Kong. The fireworks over Victoria Harbour lit up the entire night sky, and the noise was deafening.

She stood in the crowd, gazing at the dazzling aurora borealis, but then she remembered—Ji Rendong's profile under the aurora. She took out her phone, typed and deleted, finally sending only one message to Ji Rendong:

"Happy New Year, Sister Honeysuckle."

At the research station, Ji Rendong stood at the window of the observation station, where the polar night still lingered.

She held her phone in her hand, the screen displaying the "Happy New Year" message sent by Shi Banxia.

She typed a lot of words, wanting to ask her if she was cold, if the port city was lively, and if the fireworks were beautiful, but in the end she deleted them one by one.

Ji Rendong looked up at the dark blue night sky, then looked down again, her fingers flying across the screen. This was the first time she had replied to Shi Banxia without hesitation.

—"Happy New Year, Banxia."

A note from the author:

The two babies will be reunited soon!

According to the timeline, Xiaxia and Dongdong have been separated for a year! It's about time they met up; they're both getting restless (chuckles).