"Are you going to stand there and do nothing while I'm about to die?" Liu Xue's voice trembled with strain. Her southern accent lingered despite years of training, each syllable dripping like honey through ice. I had always loved the way she spoke—how her throaty tones made even emergency protocols sound like lullabies.

I hesitated at the hatchway, a mound of snow tucked under my flight jacket. Inside the cabin Liu Xue's eyes were open now, wide with feverish awareness. Her survival instinct was terrifyingly strong—I'd wager half a million on Hua Qingqing's biotech enhancements without even blinking. A normal person would've been dead after twelve hours in subzero.

"Satellites are down," I said as she shivered through the words, "due to that orbital battle between the US and Russia. Weather systems... well..." My hands trembled with the weight of snow. The cabin lights dimmed as her pupils dilated.

Liu Xue's labored breath formed visible plumes in the cold air. "Are they connected to the plane crash?"

"Navigation systems are useless now," I dropped my burden, "and ionospheric disturbances probably caused some incidents too. You ended up hiding in a lavatory? Pretty smart move for someone disoriented."

She winced as she spoke through chattering teeth: "I was fixing my makeup when the fuselage shook violently—it felt like an explosion. The plane rolled and flipped... then everything went still except this terrible cold." Her hands gestured to the aircraft's scorched interior, "The handle was red-hot, I couldn't open it. When water started seeping through overhead... it was like being boiled alive."

I watched her shiver under my coat. At least three layers of clothing would be required for full protection—"Liu Xue, your circulation should return with just some mild friction therapy," I said carefully.

Her eyes snapped to the floor where the snow had pooled. "You can't expect me to believe that!" she hissed through clenched teeth, "I'm paralyzed! My body knows it's dying and yours is trying to justify voyeurism!"

The overhead hatch groaned under falling snow as her words hit me like a physical blow. I forced myself not to notice how the dim lighting made her silhouette seem even more vulnerable.

"Hot water would be ideal," I said, "but we could build a fire..."

Liu Xue's voice broke mid-sentence: "Fly us back to Bermuda!" Her fingers twitched with manic hope before she remembered our satellite-free position. The truth hit like another snowstorm—no GPS, no radio contact.

"Trapped?" her whisper cracked through the silence like ice under a pickaxe blade.

I traced my path through endless white mountains outside, each step erasing itself in seconds. "We need to conserve energy until this storm passes," I said as she curled tighter against the seat. Her vulnerability was almost too much to bear—I could feel my resolve crumbling even while trying to maintain professional distance.

"Please..." she begged, her voice now nothing more than a rasp, "the cold is burning through me..."

I tore open the cargo hold with shaking hands and froze at what I found: not just supplies but intimate items—hairpins, makeup compacts, that little silver hair clipper. My fingers brushed against something else in a suitcase—a set of medical tools meant for post-surgery patients.

Back inside she was unconscious again, her body trembling on the floor like a marionette with severed strings. The torn silk undershirt revealed a glimpse of crimson lace. I worked quickly now, cutting away frozen fabric while trying to ignore the exposed curve beneath that revealing lingerie line—every cut an invitation I wasn't ready to accept.

Her legs were worst—the porcelain fragments clinging there had created a grotesque mosaic across flawless skin. My breath hitched each time my hands neared those thighs I'd only ever admired from afar in concert footage, now raw and exposed by tragedy. The friction warmed her faster than I expected, but not fast enough to prevent the way my pulse spiked when she shuddered beneath my touch.

By the fourth pass her breathing had steadied into something resembling normalcy. "The front," she whispered hoarsely as I worked on her torso, "the back is burning now but..." Her voice trailed off as I froze mid-motion, realizing where those words were leading.

"Please," she begged again, "I'm dying here!"

The overhead hatch groaned under renewed snowfall just as the cabin lights flickered. In that moment of chaos, Liu Xue's silhouette against the emergency lighting revealed something new—the way her breath hitched when I finally moved to her chest area, the involuntary shiver in her thighs as my hands hovered there.

"Are you ready?" I asked through clenched teeth.

The first touch was strictly clinical. The second wasn't. Her body responded to the friction like fire on dry tinder, and even though she remained unconscious, the way her core tightened against me suggested something beyond mere survival instincts at work.

When dawn finally broke through the storm clouds, it revealed a landscape of endless white. I stared out into that infinite void just as Liu Xue's voice echoed from inside the cabin—weak but gaining strength: "Sour Qian!"

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