Day forty-five.
Lin Yu'an's life had entered an unprecedented state of tranquility, akin to meditation.
The anxiety over fat had disappeared, as had the little furry figure he constantly worried about, leaving the entire shelter to become vast and silent.
Every morning, he would still habitually open his eyes at December's usual waking time, and then, in an instant of loss, remember 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 camera, he said calmly and without wavering, "My food is more than enough to support me until day fifty."
