It wasn't light yet; the land was shrouded in grey.
The vast ice field was all-encompassing, devoid of any sign of life.
A pair of gloved hands suddenly burst forth from the ground, brushing the accumulated snow to one side.
Bi Fang panted heavily as he labored to push the snow aside. A night of furious winds had completely sealed off the entrance to his dugout, with at least thirty centimeters of thickness.
Leaning on the exit, Bi Fang took a breath, grabbed the icy sides, and propped his entire body up, then began to gather his rope.
The freeze overnight had solidified the rope thoroughly, a few drops of water that froze last night had now formed several centimeters of ice.
The thickness of the ice was increasing.
After tying up the rope and putting it in his backpack, Bi Fang started his live broadcast and greeted his viewers.