The cold breath of death is like billions of invisible steel needles, piercing into this man-made metal island deep in the Antarctic ice cap. The iron-gray sky hung so low that it almost overwhelmed the sight. The never-ending polar winds whipped up snow particles as sharp as knives, tearing apart the heavy alloy shell of the exploration station with a roar, emitting a continuous, tooth-breaking scream. The lead-gray light struggled to penetrate the diffuse snow and fog, sparingly shining on the dome and exoskeleton support of the "Icebreaker 7" exploration station, reflecting cold and hard spots of light. Outside the station, the mercury column of the thermometer has already been bitten on the scale of minus 87 degrees Celsius, like coagulated blood. Time here seems to be frozen by the severe cold, leaving only the eternal howling of wind and snow.
