Chapter Twelve: Fever

Along this narrow path, many coal-hauling carts were scattered about. The carts were terribly decrepit, some even missing their wheels altogether. Judging by their condition, they had clearly been abandoned for a long time.

After walking for less than half an hour, Qin Fei arrived near the stone church. The church appeared ancient, its surrounding walls built entirely of stone. Time had not been kind to it: the walls were partially collapsed and full of gaps.

Because of the damage to the walls, the church was exposed to the wind from all directions, making the interior bitterly cold. Qin Fei had intended to rest here for a while, but in these conditions, that was impossible.

Inside, the church was empty save for a few religious books, which Qin Fei gathered and tucked into his backpack. Stepping outside, he noticed a graveyard. Propped against the wall nearby was the frozen body of a man, sitting as if at rest. In his arms, he seemed to clutch something… Qin Fei drew closer.

What the man held was a hunting rifle! Qin Fei was overjoyed.

He hurried over and carefully took the rifle from the dead man’s stiff hands. The gun was still in good condition, undamaged, though it held no ammunition. However, Qin Fei remembered that he had found a shotgun shell at the Kuangsite gas station earlier, and it happened to be the right caliber for this rifle.

This meant he now had a single shot at his disposal—an invaluable asset in his current situation. He stowed the rifle in his backpack.

The church was simply too cold. Qin Fei knew he had to find another place to rest before sunset. Standing at the exit of the stone church, he gazed outside.

In the distance stood a lighthouse.

Lighthouses along the coast were common, typically guiding ships at sea. Night was falling, and as the temperature dropped, the church interior would only grow colder. Without hesitation, Qin Fei set off toward the lighthouse.

By now, it was almost evening, and the biting cold outside made him shiver uncontrollably. His legs soon grew numb, but at last he reached the lighthouse.

He entered. Looking up from within, he saw a spiral stone staircase linking each floor.

The first floor contained a stove for warmth, a table and chairs, and a bookshelf. On the second floor, there was a bed. The very top housed a large lamp facing the sea, which was now powerless and dark—presumably the beacon meant to guide ships.

Standing at the top, Qin Fei surveyed the surroundings. Not far away, on the ice to the northeast, was a grounded, abandoned cargo ship—the Lichen. Further in the distance stood a vast, warehouse-like building, which, based on his experience in games, was likely the Ireland Processing Plant, a facility for processing whales.

The temperature inside the lighthouse was somewhat higher than in the stone church, but still far from comfortable. Despite all the layers Qin Fei wore, he could not escape the chill.

There was no choice; night had fallen, and sleeping outdoors in the snow was unthinkable.

He had some coal in his backpack, but that was reserved for forging arrowheads tomorrow, so he could not use it for warmth now. He resolved to make do for the night.

He shut all the doors and windows, ate some dried meat, and lay down on the bed on the second floor.

The night passed without incident.

[You have survived: 12 days, 3 hours, 15 minutes]

Cold!

So unbearably cold!

When Qin Fei awoke, his whole body was shivering, his mind cloudy and dizzy.

Was he ill?

He tried to get out of bed, but his body was weak and his legs felt like jelly.

This was bad… Judging from his condition, he was likely running a fever, probably from being chilled so thoroughly during the night.

Panic gripped his heart. In this environment, there was no medicine to be found. Was he doomed to die here?

A fever would raise his body temperature, but paradoxically make him feel even colder, and his strength would drain faster than usual.

Qin Fei was already struggling to endure the cold.

He made his way to the first floor, lit a fire in the stove, and reluctantly added a small amount of coal.

Now that he was sick, there was no need to be overly frugal with the coal—his life depended on it.

While warming himself, he set two iron cans filled with snow atop the stove, intending to drink hot water once it melted. After all, hot water cures all ills.

In his backpack, he had some first aid supplies—antibiotics and disinfectant—but neither would help with a fever.

He also had rose hips and a small amount of ganoderma he had gathered at the bear’s den. Both had restorative properties, but neither was particularly effective against fever.

Qin Fei grew anxious, dumping out the entire contents of his backpack in desperation, filling the space with a chaotic heap of supplies.

He stared at the pile, helpless.

In the game, the characters never caught a cold or fever, since the designers hadn't included such illnesses…

But this was no game. Qin Fei was a living, breathing person—he needed food, water, rest, and he could get sick or exhausted.

Finding fever medicine in this frozen wasteland was impossible.

Suddenly, his eyes fell upon a pair of antlers in the room.

These were reindeer antlers he had cut from a stag.

He remembered reading online: antlers were considered yang in traditional medicine, and when ground into powder, could be used as a tonic to invigorate the body and strengthen the bones.

That was why he had stored them away.

If antlers were warming in nature, then perhaps, from a traditional perspective, they could help treat a fever caused by cold.

Whether it would work or not, he no longer cared. He had no other options. Eating them might do nothing, but not eating them would surely mean death.

Dragging himself wearily, Qin Fei took out his knife and scraped some powder from the antlers, adding it to the iron can on the stove.

He also took a piece of ganoderma, sliced it up, and tossed it in.

He warmed some dried meat as well—being sick consumed a lot of energy, and he needed sustenance to pull through.

Soon, the can with the ganoderma and antler powder began to boil.

After letting it cool a bit, Qin Fei took a sip.

The concoction tasted slightly gamey, with a hint of bitterness—truly unpleasant to swallow. And with his illness, he had little appetite.

Nevertheless, he forced himself to drink the entire concoction, and ate a few pieces of roasted venison as well.

He then made himself drink another can of hot water.

Exhausted, he crawled back into bed. His head throbbed painfully, and he felt woozy, but soon drifted into sleep.

When he awoke again, it was dusk.

He had slept through the entire day.

His strength had returned somewhat. Though still weak, the bone-chilling cold and trembling had subsided.

This meant his fever had mostly broken—apparently, the antler powder had done some good.

In truth, while antler powder could invigorate the body, it could not actually cure colds or fevers. Qin Fei’s recovery was due mainly to his own immune system.

With nightfall approaching, he decided to leave the lighthouse.

It had been warm enough inside during the day, but at night, the temperature would drop sharply. If he stayed, his recovering illness might worsen again.

He packed up his things and left the lighthouse.

Considering how dark it was growing, Qin Fei chose to travel directly over the ice. The open expanse offered better visibility than the winding road, making it less likely for him to lose his way in the dusk.

He set off toward the nearby Lichen whaling ship.