Abstinence Pei, don't be too sweet when chasing your wife

On the morning after the third aurora trip, Olaf appeared in the camp carrying a canvas bag filled with dried whale meat and humming a tuneless version of "A Song of Ice and Fire".

His wrinkled face was filled with childlike excitement, and his rough fingers were pinching a yellowed parchment map. "Children, it's time to go see the real Iceland! The fireplace in my house will always be burning for the brave aurora travelers."

The off-road vehicle drove along the winding coastline, and the scenery along the way was intoxicating: flocks of puffins flew over the black sand beach, waves beat against the moss-covered basalt columns on the shore; the glaciers in the distance reflected a faint blue light in the sunlight, echoing the afterimage of the aurora in the sky that had not yet dissipated.

Olaf suddenly slammed the car door. "Stop!" He pointed to a hidden cave at the foot of the cliff. "That's where my grandfather hid whale oil. It saved many lives during World War II."

Then he pulled out a copper pocket watch wrapped in sealskin. The family name was engraved on the dial. "This watch went through the bombing with my grandfather. I'm passing it on to you as a souvenir."

Walking through a path lined with windbreak grass, a traditional wooden house with a turf roof appears before your eyes.

The moss covering the roof blends in with the surrounding tundra and could almost be confused with the natural landscape if it weren’t for the curls of smoke wafting from the chimney.

Before the car stopped, the door of the cabin creaked open. Olaf's wife Gudrun, wearing a blue and white wool apron, was followed by three granddaughters wearing colorful wool headbands. They waved small bells carved from reindeer antlers, and the cheerful sounds echoed in the valley.

“Come in! Come in!”

Gudrun opened his arms and pulled Gu Fanxing and Pei Luonan into the warm house.

The eldest granddaughter, Ingrid, served them hot chocolate; the second granddaughter, Solveig, draped a hand-woven woolen shawl over Peronan's shoulders; and the youngest, Ada, shyly handed over honey cookies wrapped in birch bark, "Try it! This is what grandma taught me to make!"

The house was filled with the aroma of cedar incense and baking bread.

On the central stone fireplace, reindeer broth bubbled in a copper kettle.

Deer antler decorations hung on the wall complement an ancient Icelandic harp in the corner.

Gudrun lifted the lid of the cast iron pot, and steam instantly rose, revealing the soft and tender wild mushrooms and root vegetables inside. "Try it, it's cooked with glacial water and added homemade gin."

As she piled food into their bowls, she said, "In Iceland, guests' bowls are never empty!"

The table was filled with Icelandic specialties: pickled air-dried shark meat, toasted rye bread, pickled salmon slices, and most eye-catchingly, a plate of blue-purple berries.

“These are Arctic blueberries, the sweetest when picked only after the aurora borealis erupts.”

As Olaf spoke, he scooped a large spoonful of syrup made from whale fat into Gu Fanxing's bowl.

"Don't be afraid, this is the source of energy for Viking warriors."

Ingrid suddenly stood up and ran to the kitchen, bringing back a mysterious clay pot. "Try this! It's beer that grandma brews with Icelandic moss. Only distinguished guests can drink it!"

After three rounds of drinks, Olaf dug out an ancient book from the bottom of a wooden box. The Viking runes on the book glowed with a strange luster in the candlelight.

"This is my family's ancestral manuscript of the Edda," he said, his fingers stroking the faded words. "Come, let me sing you a passage from the Valkyrie's Song."

The old man's voice was powerful and passionate, and coupled with the crackling of firewood in the fireplace, it seemed to bring everyone back to the Viking battlefield thousands of years ago.

Gudrun took out a hand-woven wool comb and gently combed Gu Fanxing's hair that was messed up by the sea breeze. "Girl, let me braid you an 'Aurora Braid'. It will definitely bring you good luck."

As she spoke, she took out her treasured aurora-colored wool from her sewing box and carefully weaved it into Gu Fanxing's hair.

Suddenly, there was a burst of rapid dog barking outside the door.

Olaf pushed open the door, and the cold wind blew snowflakes into the house. Six Icelandic sheepdogs jumped happily around the sled.

“Let’s go! I’ll show you the real treasures of Iceland!”

He asked everyone to put on reindeer leather boots and wrap themselves tightly in woolen cloaks.

Solveig and Ada rushed to stuff hand warmers into Pei Luonan and Gu Fanxing's pockets, "Uncle and aunt, don't get cold!"

The sled sped across the snowfield, and snow powder on both sides splashed like a galaxy.

Pei Luonan hugged Gu Fanxing tightly, feeling her warmth in his arms, and the lingering scent of cloudberries in her hair lingered on his nose.

The sled stopped at a glacial lake.

Olaf lit moss torches, illuminating the world beneath the ice: thousands of ice fish swam in the aurora borealis, their scales gleaming like emerald light.

“This is the Icelanders’ secret fishing ground,” he whispered. “We only use hooks made from deer antlers, and we only take what we need at a time.”

Gu Fanxing touched the ice surface curiously and suddenly found light blue light patterns under the ice, which were exactly the same as the patterns on the palm of his hand during his third aurora trip.

Ingrid excitedly took her homemade ice fishing rod from the sled and said, "Uncle and aunt, let's go fishing together! We can grill the fish we catch tonight!"

Back at the cabin, Gudrun is preparing for a traditional Icelandic steam bath.

She poured sea water onto the hot volcanic rocks, and the rising mist was instantly filled with the scent of sulfur and seaweed.

"This is the best way to keep out the cold," she smiled as she pushed the two of them into the steaming cabin. "Once you come out, your bones will be warm for three days."

The steam blurred her vision, but Gu Fanxing could clearly feel Pei Luonan reaching out and holding her hand, the temperature of their interlocked fingers growing hotter in the mist.

Outside the cabin, three little girls were preparing a surprise: they made a heart shape with aurora stones and spread picked wild lichens on a wooden chair.

As the night deepened, Olaf took out his treasured whalebone wine bowl and filled it with strong Icelandic mead.

"It's time to hear your stories." The old man's eyes flickered in the firelight.

Pei Luonan opened his backpack and took out photos taken during his three aurora trips: the hug in front of the icefall, the thrill in the lava tunnel, and the aurora heart that was captured accidentally.

Gudrun put on her gold-rimmed glasses and examined each photo carefully. "This is a gift from the Aurora Goddess."

She gently stroked the light pattern on Gu Fanxing's palm in the photo, "Your fate has long been written by light."

Ingrid hugged Gu Fanxing's arm and said, "Auntie, will you come again next time? I want to teach you how to knit an Icelandic sweater!"

Olaf suddenly stood up and took down a battered guitar from the attic.

The strings struck out a familiar melody—the very folk song he had sung at the observation point during his first trip to the aurora.

Pei Luonan hugged Gu Fanxing and rocked her gently. She leaned on his shoulder and listened to the old man telling the legend about the aurora.

It was the souls of the dead Viking warriors dancing in the sky, it was the Valkyrie's cloak sweeping across the night sky, it was...

The three little girls snuggled up to Gudrun and listened with great interest.

Before going to bed, Gudrun gave Gu Fanxing an amulet wrapped with volcanic stones and aurora blueberry seeds.

“Take it with you,” she kissed Gu Fanxing’s forehead, “no matter where you go, Iceland will always be in your heart.”

A copy of Icelandic Folk Songs had appeared in Pei Luonan's backpack. On the title page was Olaf's crooked handwriting: "To lovers chasing the light, may your story be longer than the aurora."

The three little girls secretly stuffed their own drawings of the aurora into the two people's luggage.

Moonlight poured through the cracks in the roof. Gu Fanxing curled up in Pei Luonan's arms, listening to the whistling wind outside the window and the whispers of the glacier in the distance.

That night, there were no gorgeous aurora borealis and no thrilling adventures, but she felt the warmest soul of Iceland - in this warm cabin, in the smiles of the two old people, in the innocent eyes of the three children, in the dancing fire in the fireplace, she finally understood that the so-called beauty is nothing more than sharing the fireworks of the world with the loved ones and listening to the whispers of time.