As time went on.
Like a guest reluctant to leave, daylight temporarily withdrew from the stage of the sky, surrendering the world to the polar night.
The black sky was a giant canopy, tightly enveloping the Far North Tundra.
Under the cloak of night.
One by one, the streetlights in the camp flickered to life. Their dim yellow light spread lazily, carving out a faint, warm pocket of brightness in the vast, dark expanse of the Far North Tundra.
At that moment, Feng Mountain was lying contentedly in Jenny's bed, a faintly scented blanket pulled over him.
Little Mira was sleeping beside the pillow, belly-up with its paws splayed out.
Every now and then, a soft, rumbling snore escaped its mouth.
The cabin door opened softly from the outside.
Jenny entered the room, her steps light and gentle.
When she saw Feng Mountain lying on her bed,
A shy blush instantly flooded her fair cheeks, like clouds painted by the setting sun.
She tiptoed slowly to the side of the bed.
