"On December 15, 2020, the weather was overcast. Today, a new journey was about to begin."
In the dim, damp cabin, Zhang Erya sat cross-legged on a single bed. The bed, barely more than 40 centimeters wide, was mostly occupied by her belongings.
This tiny cabin, just a few square meters in size, would be her home for the next month or so.
The conditions in the cabin were exceptionally crude, and the air was filled with a rotten, unpleasant odor.
To save money and time for this operation, this decades-old icebreaking vessel was merely reinforced on the outside, while the interior remained outdated. The wiring was arranged in Rash Country's brutally simple style—it was simply a mess.
Large patches of the cabin wall's coating had peeled off, revealing the rust-stained iron beneath. The welded spots on the ceiling were covered with large, dark water stains, and liquids dripped occasionally, making the entire floor very damp.
