I looked down. A dark object had fallen out of the jacket and lay still on the floor.
I shone my flashlight on it. It appeared to be a notebook.
I picked it up — a kraft paper journal, its cover coated in frost, the pages inside yellowed and brittle.
---
It seemed to be a diary, probably belonging to one of the ship's researchers.
A man's, judging by the handwriting — bold, flowing, elegant.
Curious, I sat on the bed and started flipping through it.
The early entries were about mundane home life and preparations for the journey.
I kept turning pages. Around the middle, the entries finally began covering the Antarctic expedition.
"November 18
We've finally arrived in Antarctica.
The place is as beautiful as I imagined — vast, boundless, the horizon stretching to infinity.
Tomorrow we set out to explore. I'm so excited!
What exactly is producing that sound wave? I hope we'll find out."
"November 19
Antarctica is sliding into summer. We've seen lots of little animals — walruses, emperor penguins, even saw orcas hunting a seal. Such a pity I didn't get a photo!
I wanted to show it to Kangkang when I got back.
We didn't pick up the sound wave again today. Everyone's a bit disappointed.
But we collected seawater samples — hoping to find some answers."
"November 20
We ran preliminary tests on the seawater. Nothing unusual turned up.
Strange — we clearly detected that sound wave, so why didn't the tests show anything? We'll send a camera down tomorrow."
"November 21
The sound appeared again, but this time it wasn't from the water. It was coming from holes beneath the ice nearby. We keep chasing it with no results. Damn it, where is this thing?"
"November 22
We searched three holes under the ice today. Still nothing. Tomorrow we continue.
This godforsaken place is too cold. If this keeps up, I won't be able to take it much longer!"
"November 23
I miss Nini and Kangkang. I don't know when I'll get to go home.
We scanned all the ice in the area and finally pinpointed the sound. This time the waves were even more distinct. A-Cheng says whatever's down there could be over a hundred meters long.
Sylvia thinks we should turn back. Something that big is too dangerous — more than we can handle.
But we all want to see it. If we discover some prehistoric creature, we'll be famous! We'll go take a look tomorrow, then head right back!"
My pulse quickened as I read. Whatever the diary described might be exactly what we'd come to Lake Trib to investigate. Over a hundred meters — what could it possibly be?
I couldn't turn the pages fast enough.
The next entry's handwriting suddenly turned scrawled, as if written in panic — no date, just frantic strokes.
The letters quavered, pausing and stuttering, as if the hand that held the pen had been shaking badly.
I strained to make out the words.
"What the hell is this thing?!"
That was it — just the one sentence. Something else had been written below, but it was obscured by dark, heavy stains that made it impossible to read.
How bizarre. This person wrote like he was in a TV drama — leaving a cliffhanger.
Just say it! What was it?
My curiosity was practically driving me crazy. I pocketed the journal and went to search the next room for more clues.
But the moment I opened the next door, I jumped, a chill racing down my spine.
This room's bed was not empty.
A long, narrow shape lay on the mattress.
It heard the door open, paused, and slowly turned over.
I was so terrified the scream stuck in my throat. My whole body went rigid — I couldn't even run.
Just as I was about to pass out, Kevin's voice cut through.
His voice carried a coldness that made minus-thirty degrees feel warm.
"Chloe?"
I focused my eyes. The shape on the bed was Kevin, zipped up inside a sleeping bag.
He was looking at me in confusion, reaching out to unzip the bag.
"Chloe, what are you doing here?"
My legs gave way. I nearly collapsed on the floor.
Cold sweat dripped from my forehead and froze almost instantly. My voice shook with residual terror and annoyance. "Holy shit, it's you. You scared me half to death."
Two days in Antarctica and Kevin had frightened me twice now. Keep this up and my heart was going to give out.
Kevin looked apologetic. "After I got separated from you guys, I didn't know which way to go. I ended up walking until I found this ship, so I came aboard to get out of the wind."
"Are you the only one here? Professor Marshall, Marcus, Serena — where are they?"
I patted my pounding chest. "They're all in the cabin. I came down here looking for supplies."
Kevin sat up. "There's not much here. I only found a few sleeping bags — this one has an inner liner, still usable. They're in that cabinet over there. I'll grab them for you."
I nodded. Once my heartbeat settled, a wave of relief swept over me.
We'd all been worried sick about Kevin, terrified he'd freeze to death wandering alone. Turns out he'd made it to the ship before any of us.
I called out cheerfully: "Marcus! Serena! Look who I found!"
No one answered.
Downstairs, I found Marcus standing in the cabin, staring at a piece of paper.
"What are you doing?" I asked, coming down the stairs. "Look who I found — Kevin! He got here before we did. I opened a door and saw him on the bed, nearly scared me to death!"
Marcus's head snapped up at the sound of my voice.
It was too dark. I didn't see the flash of fear in his eyes.
"Oh, great. Chloe, come with me."
"What's going on? You're being cryptic." I complained.
Something was off about Marcus. Normally he'd have jumped up to hug Kevin by now — he was the most restless of the four of us, always grinning and goofing around.
But today he was different. He pulled me firmly toward the wheelhouse at the bow.
Behind me, Kevin said nothing.
"What's going on?" I yanked my arm free. "Did you not see Kevin?"
Marcus's face was ashen. He kept his head down for a long time, saying nothing.
Finally, he looked up and stared at me. His voice trembled slightly.
"Chloe, do you believe that two people in this world can look exactly alike?"
I didn't understand. "Twins?"
Marcus swallowed hard. "What if they're twenty years apart?"
A chill crept through me. I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Marcus didn't answer. He pulled out a photograph and handed it to me.
"I found this wedged in a gap in the wheelhouse."
I took the photo. It was black-and-white, yellowed with age, carrying the unmistakable patina of decades.
A line of small text was written in fountain pen: Expedition 376, September 18, 1998.
September 18, 1998 — based on the journal I'd just read, that was likely around when this ship set out.
Several young people huddled together in the photo, beaming at the camera.
Their faces radiated youth and fearlessness. The girl on the far left wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
A large birthmark seemed to stretch across her face, but her smile was brighter than spring sunshine.
This was a group of young men and women, full of courage and wonder.
Suddenly, my pupils contracted sharply.
The second young man from the left stared shyly into the lens with a tender, unformed face.
That face was so familiar.
Two years of PhD work — I'd spent almost every day with him. Every detail of that face was etched into my memory.
It belonged to my fellow student.
Zhang Lun.
Kevin.