On a snow-covered hill, seven or eight gaunt polar bears were digging through the snow, rummaging for food in a garbage dump.

Their fur was filthy, a far cry from its original pristine white, making them look more like faded brown bears.

As for the trash, it consisted of old plastic barrels, discarded wooden planks, and some rusted metal frames.

This garbage was piled up haphazardly, serving as a temporary refuge for the polar bears.

In Feng Mountain’s mind, polar bears were supposed to live on the Arctic ice, well-fed and robust, with a charmingly clumsy appearance.

But these polar bears before him...

They looked... like refugees.

"It’s a pitiful sight, isn’t it?" Bruce said in a heavy tone, walking up to Feng Mountain with a bag in his hand.

As he spoke, he opened the bag, took out several frozen sea fish, and forcefully threw them onto the snow in the distance.

Catching the scent of food, the polar bears cautiously descended the garbage heap. Each one snatched a fish and quickly left. Among the adult bears, Feng Mountain also spotted a few cubs.

Watching the polar bears, Bruce spoke in a sorrowful voice, "Global warming and the melting of sea ice pose a grave threat to the Arctic ecosystem, but the polar bear is the species that has been hit the hardest."

"Polar bears are marine mammals. Their food comes from the ocean, and their survival depends on the sea ice. Without it, they can’t hunt the ringed seals that surface to breathe or rest on the ice. They also can’t travel long distances, find mates, or teach their cubs how to hunt."

"Polar bears spent hundreds of thousands of years evolving to adapt to life on the ice, and now the ice is gone!"

"Isn’t it ironic? They evolved for hundreds of thousands of years to adapt to the Arctic, only to turn around and find their home has disappeared!"

Feng Mountain was silent.

’Is it funny?’

’It doesn’t seem funny at all. In fact, it’s just tragic.’

He raised his hand and smacked Prince.

Prince’s eyes went wide, an innocent expression on his face.

Feng Mountain sighed. "Nash, go carve up the reindeer and toss some to the polar bears."

As Nash was chopping the reindeer meat, Bruce pointed at the polar bears eating the fish.

"It’s not just their habitat that’s a problem now. Even their food isn’t safe anymore."

"Humans always think of the Arctic as Earth’s last pristine land, but the flawless white sea ice hides the truth. Wind and ocean currents carry global pollutants to the Arctic, where they then travel up the food chain and into the bodies of polar bears."

"This year, sample analysis by scientists in Alaska and the Svalbard Islands found that polar bears universally have concentrations of perfluorooctanesulfonate (PFOS) a hundred times higher than seals."

"Furthermore, scientists discovered 19 different organic chemical substances in the body tissues of polar bears, with half of the toxicity coming from PFOS."

"When mother bears are contaminated with PFOS, their cubs become victims of toxic milk."

After this explanation, Bruce’s tone shifted, becoming one of angry emphasis.

"But there’s an even more serious threat: human hunting. In the ten years between 2007 and 2016, 8,335 polar bears died at the hands of hunters."

"In Canada, you can personally hunt a polar bear for just 50,000 US dollars."

"In Norway, a polar bear pelt sells for 20,000 US dollars, and the black market price is as high as 250,000 pounds."

Listening to Bruce rattle off the ways the world was harming polar bears as if he knew them by heart...

Feng Mountain remained silent.

’The pot calling the kettle black. Am I any different?’

’Using reindeer hunting as a gimmick to attract tourists from back home.’

’Reindeer are animals, polar bears are animals. There’s no difference.’

Nash tossed the chopped reindeer meat, piece by piece, onto an empty patch of ground in the distance.

Having finished the frozen fish, the polar bears came down from the garbage heap again to share the reindeer meat.

"The reason I settled in Kaktovik is because Canadian law forbids feeding polar bears. They’d rather let them starve to death. I personally witnessed a skeletal polar bear starve right in front of me, yet they still sell permits to hunt them."

"Although the United States has the same ban, it’s not strictly enforced, especially in Indigenous reservations. There, the ban isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. The residents of Kaktovik Town will even leave a portion of their whale catch to feed the polar bears."

Watching the polar bears quickly devour the reindeer meat, Bruce seemed to recall the contradiction in his own words.

Just a moment ago in the bar, he was denouncing the townspeople for hunting bowhead whales, and now he was talking about the people of Kaktovik Town hunting whales to feed polar bears.

"Well, I hate the Inuit tradition of non-profit whale hunting, but I’m also grateful that they feed the polar bears."

"If possible, I’ll work to promote polar bear and whale-watching tourism. It’s more profitable than hunting whales."

Feng Mountain waved his hand in understanding.

Non-profit whaling to feed polar bears versus polar bears starving to death.

It was a paradox. Fortunately, traditional non-profit whaling is different in nature from commercial whaling, and many Indigenous tribal communities have already abandoned the tradition.

Seeing the polar bears finish the reindeer meat and return to the garbage heap, a smile appeared on Bruce’s face. "Come on, I’ll take you to see Fat Albert of the Beaufort Sea. You’ll be shocked when you see him."

The three of them piled onto a snowmobile and left the garbage dump, with Prince and Princess lying obediently in the sled.

They sped along until they reached a snow-covered beach.

There was sea ice on the water, but not much, perhaps due to the warming climate.

In the past, this part of the sea should have been covered by vast sheets of ice at this time of year, but that spectacular sight was now nowhere to be found.

No wonder Bruce said the polar bears were facing extinction.

With the reduction of sea ice, the habitats of animals like seals that depend on it were destroyed. Their breeding grounds and resting places were no longer safe or stable.

Compared to the turbulent Bering Sea, the Beaufort Sea was relatively calm.

The seawater pushed the ice floes slowly, each one like a puzzle piece placed randomly by nature.

Under the sunlight, the ice floes sparkled with a crystalline light.

This slow movement seemed to carry a tranquil rhythm, perfectly complementing the peaceful atmosphere of the Beaufort Sea.

The three of them got off the snowmobile. Bruce looked around, then quickly pointed into the distance and shouted.

"Look! That’s Fat Albert! Fat Albert, come here!"

Feng Mountain and Nash followed his gaze, and their jaws dropped.

’Is that still a polar bear?’

’Why does it look like a brown bear?’

In their line of sight, a massive, brown behemoth waddled toward them, its round belly nearly scraping the sand.

It stopped about a dozen meters away from them and sat down on its rear, looking like a small hill.

"He must be close to 500 kilograms, right?" Feng Mountain asked in surprise.

"He’s over that. At his last weigh-in, he was already 679 kilograms," Bruce said with a proud smile.

"Don’t mind his brown fur; that’s because he loves to play in the sand. If you didn’t look closely, you’d definitely think he was an Alaska brown bear or a Kodiak Island brown bear, but he really is a polar bear."

As he spoke, Bruce took a large fish from the sled, grabbed it by the tail, and flung it toward the corpulent Fat Albert.

Catching the scent, Fat Albert waddled to his feet, walked over to the fish, sniffed it with his nose, and opened his huge mouth to eat.

A fatherly smile spread across Bruce’s face.

"The local Indigenous People get all the credit for feeding him up like this."

"Whenever the local Indigenous People catch a whale, they cut off most of its blubber and deposit it on a beach about six kilometers outside of town for the polar bears to eat."

"They do this for two main reasons."

"The first is to alleviate the problem of starvation among the polar bears. They don’t want a pack of adult polar bears following the scent and showing up after a whale hunt."

"The second reason is to follow a thousands-of-years-old tradition of showing respect to the polar bears with food. Moreover, the Indigenous People believe doing this reduces polar bear deaths caused by foraging difficulties."

Just then, two fishing boats appeared on the sea, slowly making their way toward the beach.

People on the boats were looking over at the shore.

At the same time, where there had only been one polar bear—Fat Albert—on the beach, more began to appear one after another as the boats approached.

These polar bears were all quite robust, in much better condition than the malnourished ones at the garbage dump.

What also surprised Feng Mountain was that when this group of polar bears interacted or acknowledged each other, they were full of respect and calm—unlike grizzly bears and brown bears, which would fight to the death on sight.

A moment later, Bruce offered an explanation.

"These are the polar bears settled in Kaktovik; they’re already used to living in a group. The ones at the garbage dump just migrated here from elsewhere. They’ll only dare to come to the beach after they’ve gotten familiar with the place."

The group of polar bears that had followed the fishing boats stood up on their hind legs at the edge of the beach, watching the boats. Not a single one made a sound or pushed forward to grab anything; it seemed they were already used to this routine.

The fishing boats drew near the shore.

Several people jumped off, holding long, hooked poles. They used the tools to pull chunks of white meat with black hide from the boat’s hold.

Feng Mountain recognized it; he had even eaten some back in Kivalina.

Whale blubber.

As large chunks of whale blubber were piled onto the beach, more and more polar bears, drawn by the scent, began to gather. There were over thirty of them now, but they all stood behind Fat Albert, as if acknowledging him as the boss.

Feng Mountain turned his head to look at Prince, who was shivering in the sled, and taunted him.

"Come on, Prince, come out and play!"

"You were having so much fun chasing things earlier. Come on out, I’ll let you chase them to your heart’s content!"

Prince shot Feng Mountain a look that seemed full of scorn, then his gaze fell upon the group of brawny polar bears.

’I may be a goofball, but I’m not an idiot.’

’Any one of those hulks could swat me dead.’

’Looking for trouble? No thanks.’

On the beach, the crew left after unloading all the whale blubber from the hold.

Fat Albert waddled forward, his bloated body swaying, his small eyes glinting greedily in the sunlight.

He extended a paw, selected a piece of blubber, and eagerly took a bite.

As he chewed, oily fat dripped from the corners of his mouth. A look of pure satisfaction spread across his plump face as he took huge bites, completely lost in the joy of his meal, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

Soon, Fat Albert had stuffed two large chunks of whale blubber into his stomach.

After his hearty meal, he waddled his bloated body a short distance away and then flopped down on the beach, sprawled out. He would occasionally roll around on the spot, letting the sand cover his fur, apparently enjoying the feeling of it rubbing against his coat.

Seeing that Fat Albert was finished, the other polar bears approached in an orderly fashion.

There was no scrambling or fighting. Every polar bear was well-behaved, each silently picking up a piece of whale blubber before leaving.

Feng Mountain clicked his tongue in amazement.

’Such a harmonious scene is truly rare in the animal kingdom.’

’Especially among bears.’

’Have they evolved again or something?’

...