When the soul of an archaeologist collided with the body of an Inuit boy, Luo Chen licked the ice crystals from his lips. The tongue that had sampled cuisines around the world in his previous life had become the key to breaking the ice. During the polar night, with the sea frozen over, the tribe’s old hunters sighed at the icy surface. But he crouched down and pressed his tongue to the ice. “There are Arctic char here, three fingers wide, thirty of them.” When his improved ice-hole traps hauled up their first school of silvery fish, the Snow Wolf tribe’s bonfire lit up his eyes. Who says primitive tribes have to rely on whatever nature provides? See how a reborn gourmet with an archaeologist’s knowledge writes a new survival legend on the Arctic ice by fishing!
