Day forty-five.
Lin Yu’an’s life had entered an unprecedented state of tranquility, akin to ditation.
The anxiety over fat had disappeared, as had the little furry figure he constantly worried about, leaving the entire shelter to beco vast and silent.
Every morning, he would still habitually open his eyes at December’s usual waking ti, and then, in an instant of loss, rember that she was gone.
He silently completed his routine tasks, everything neat and orderly, yet lacking the most crucial core.
In the morning, he donned his snowshoes, slung the birch spear over his back, and began to patrol and dismantle all the still-effective traps he had set near the shelter. Whether it was the rabbit lasso or the stone slate trap for Thunderbirds, he dismantled them one by one.
Facing the cara, he said calmly and without wavering, "My food is more than enough to support until day fifty."
"These traps have fulfilled their mission; without necessity, I will not hunt again. Thanks to this earth and the creatures here for their provision."
He even released the few fish caught in the net under the ice, back into the chilly lake waters.
Now, ice fishing was no longer about acquiring; it was rely a way to pass ti in that extre silence.
In the afternoon, he nestled in the warm shelter, engaging in ticulous handiwork.
He carved a piece of dry birchwood, little by little, into various small animal forms. His fingers were nimble and steady, with fine wood shavings piling up on his lap.
He carved a sitting cat, a tongue-out dog, and lastly spent the most ti carving a round, sprawled teddy bear.
He even used a red-hot wire to carefully burn black pads onto the paws of the bear. Arranging these small wooden sculptures neatly on the stone platform by the fireplace, they sat like a silent family accompanying him.
Ti slowly slipped away in this almost frozen stillness, mixed with longing and waiting.
Day forty-five night’s arrival was silent.
Lin Yu’an had a simple dinner of smoked fish and so roasted wild boar at. He sat by the fireplace, checking the bear sculpture one last ti, repeatedly polishing it until its surface beca smoother and warr.
The shelter was quiet, with only the crackle of burning wood. But this quietness seed hollow without December’s even breathing.
He felt an inexplicable oppression, as if the small space was suffocating him with excessive silence.
Lin Yu’an stood up, deciding to go out for a walk, put on his thickest parka, donned a hat, and pushed open the heavy door. Instantly, he was enveloped by an extre, crystal-clear chill.
As he stepped out of the shelter and raised his head, his breath suddenly halted. His gaze was entirely captivated by the ineffably majestic and almost unreal sight before him.
The night sky had drawn its curtains completely.
It was an utterly cloudless night sky. The sky appeared profoundly and nearly solidly dark blue, with countless stars like ticulously polished diamonds embedded therein, their glow stable and brilliant.
And just above this vast sea of stars, a magnificent and silent cosmic symphony was playing.
Huge, like a divine spirit’s gown, an erald green curtain stretched from the distant northern horizon all the way to the zenith, occupying nearly half the sky.
It wasn’t still; it moved slowly with a life-like quality, countless bright beams of erald green light descending vertically like searchlights from the curtain, while its edges twinkled with hints of neon pink and purple.
"Aurora..." Lin Yu’an murmured softly to himself.
He saw the aurora for the first ti at Wiseman’s town, where it welcod him. This second ti, it was the grandest farewell gift from this land.
A powerful and uncontrollable impulse surged through Lin Yu’an’s heart.
He didn’t want to rely record it with his eyes and the GoPro; he wanted to preserve this scene in its most perfect form forever.
Imdiately turning around, he quickly returned to the shelter. Instead of reaching for his GoPro, he opened a box and retrieved his Sony Alpha 7S III cara renowned for its high sensitivity and video performance, and a wide-angle lens.
Skillfully, he mounted the cara onto his carbon fiber trekking pole, which doubled as a tripod, and began setting up the video recording paraters.
"Shooting aurora video is entirely different from photography."
"We need a high enough fra rate to capture its flowing motion, but a slow enough shutter speed to ensure enough light intake. This requires finding an extrely subtle balance between sensitivity, shutter speed, and aperture."
He finally set the paraters to: 4K resolution, 24-fra cinema mode, 1/25 second shutter speed, aperture at maximum F1.8, and ISO set to 12800, fully manageable by the cara, depending on the aurora’s real-ti brightness.
When he returned outdoors, the aurora in the sky grew even more magnificent.
He initially secured the tripod with the cara firmly into the solid snow ground, repeatedly adjusting the angle so the lens could perfectly capture both the nearby snow house and the most spectacular aurora behind him.
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