Finally, a "fool" card was found behind Commissioner Bai's badge, and he cheerfully went up to sing.
Once someone took the lead, the others loosened up as well. With these amateurs making the first "embarrassing" moves, those who decided to perform next gained some confidence.
Chu Tingwu and her group's play was the grand finale, as it was the longest among all the performances. As the time approached, everyone busily prepared while the host was speaking.
Commissioner Bai chuckled and said to Captain Shen, "Are they going to hand out VR glasses to everyone later?"
The preparation time wasn’t long, and there weren’t many rehearsals, so the acting was average. However, since it was a "polar icebreaker time-travel drama" performed on an actual icebreaker, the immersion was top-notch.
It seemed like they were planning to play to their strengths and put extra effort into the equipment.
As they speculated, the lights dimmed, and only faint shadows could be seen ahead. Commissioner Bai straightened up, curious about how they would perform—
Suddenly, the "icebergs" lit up with an eerie glow.
Commissioner Bai: "Huh!"
The chairs and tables in the venue were arranged spaciously, and the projection unexpectedly appeared not on the central stage but in the middle of the audience seating.
Icebergs of various shapes illuminated each other's faces. The audience gasped at first, then quickly realized it was a holographic projection. They soon got into the mood, discussing the layout and shapes of the icebergs. Some even identified the approximate geographical locations and named a few icebergs, commenting, "The layout is quite realistic."
The "actors" lurking backstage: Having an overly professional audience isn’t always great...
Next, as a flash of light representing a solar flare burst, accompanied by background sound effects, all the projections trembled slightly. The icebreaker on the glacial river turned, and the iceberg projections shattered into pieces in an instant. The icebreaker continued forward... forward... until it collided with an iceberg.
Or rather, it plunged straight into the midst of the icebergs. Anyone with a keen eye could tell these weren’t icebergs from the current era in Antarctica. This icebreaker had traveled a thousand years back in time, and along with it, inexplicably appearing in the Antarctic Circle were... Viking pirates?
Commissioner Bai was both amused and exasperated: "This plot... you’re just forcing conflict for the sake of conflict."
If they had stuck to a straightforward "icebreaker time-travel survival in the Antarctic Circle" script, it could have worked. They might even have been able to make a disaster-themed movie out of it. But nowadays, disaster films love to cram in action-packed fight scenes... not to mention a condensed stage play.
Bringing in the Viking pirates meant the play could only last a little over half an hour, covering just the beginning of the full script—
The crew, having been knocked unconscious, wakes up on the ship, tries to figure out their surroundings and the cause of the time travel, discovers the pirates boarding the ship, fights them, and ultimately captures the Viking pirates. After interrogating them, they gain some intelligence and achieve a temporary victory... but also learn from the intel that a storm is brewing.
Although the acting was mediocre, since the "characters" they were playing were their own tabletop RPG personas—essentially themselves—they quickly got into character and delivered authentic performances.
This level of immersion might also be due to the incredibly realistic projections.
The only light source was the holographic projections, and while the audience’s expressions couldn’t be seen in the dimness, their enthusiastic reactions could be heard. The actors on stage grew more confident as they performed. At one point, someone accidentally called their co-actor by their real name, but everyone just went along with it—so all the characters had fake names except for the unlucky one who got called out, eliciting laughter from the audience each time.
By the time Chu Tingwu made her entrance, several of her "Viking pirate" accomplices had already been captured.
Perhaps because Chu Tingwu had shown off her combat skills earlier, the group decided to make her character the big boss, the leader of the Viking pirates who had boarded the ship. They wanted to emphasize her cruelty and danger.
So, she put on a mask.
The Viking pirates were played by international friends on the ship, adding to the immersion. But given Chu Tingwu’s age and appearance, showing her face would have ruined the tension.
Commissioner Bai was thoroughly enjoying the play, occasionally whispering to Captain Shen about the plot—
"The projections are fantastic, and the sound effects are spot-on. It’s impressive how much they’ve accomplished in such a short time... Now they’ve captured two pirates, some of their own are injured, one pirate is dead, and another is wounded. They’re probably planning to interrogate the captive—huh?"
Chu Tingwu leaped down from a chair used as a set piece, and with the help of the projection, it looked as if she was jumping off a stack of crates, exuding the aura of a tiger pouncing on its prey.
Luckily, the actor in the center of the stage seemed to hear the sound behind him and rolled out of the way, shouting for his companions to dodge.
Then, he raised his gun, and the projection shifted, causing Chu Tingwu’s figure to vanish into the darkness, implying that the formidable "Viking pirate" had taken cover behind an alloy crate. Before she reappeared, her long shadow stretched across the ground.
Actor: "=="
Commissioner Bai: "=="
For some reason, every scene involving Chu Tingwu had particularly intricate and detailed projection designs.
But they didn’t have much time to dwell on it, because in the next moment, Chu Tingwu charged out again.
The crew member’s gun ran out of bullets, and he had to protect the injured researcher behind him. The Viking’s blade clashed against the water pipe the crew member raised, and the two fought while retreating. The crew member frequently acted as if he was struggling to hold on, and the metallic clashing sounds emphasized Chu Tingwu’s immense strength.
Commissioner Bai let out a surprised "huh" because the surviving Viking pirate didn’t look relieved but instead dragged his injured leg into a corner, his face filled with terror.
Crew member: "This is bad, we should retreat!"
The audience watched with bated breath, some clenching their fists, probably imagining how they would handle a close-quarters fight with the pirate—the pirate boss had just appeared, hadn’t even spoken a word, yet the tension was already palpable.
Chu Tingwu didn’t give chase. Instead, the masked Viking pirate turned her blade, pointing it at her injured comrade.
The comrade begged for mercy, but Chu Tingwu lowered her voice, deliberately speaking in a hoarse tone, "You’re just dead weight now," and then swung her blade.
This line wasn’t in Old Norse but in modern Norwegian, for the audience’s benefit.
—Earlier, the other pirates had also spoken in their native languages—some in Russian, some in English, and others in German. As long as they didn’t suddenly start speaking fluent Chinese, it didn’t break the immersion.
The injured pirate collapsed, "blood" spurting out as he twitched a couple of times. A group of spectators nearby quietly moved their chairs aside to give the "corpse" more room to lie down.
But the scene wasn’t over yet, as Chu Tingwu was still "chasing" the fleeing crew.
The stage was limited in size, so the chase involved minimal movement—both sides merely lifted their legs as if walking in place, while the projection rapidly shifted backward. The fleeing crew member occasionally mimed opening and closing doors.
Meanwhile, every step Chu Tingwu took echoed louder and louder in the empty space.
Finally, darkness enveloped the stage again, and the actors transitioned to a new scene, allowing the audience to exhale in relief.
Watching a play usually allows for normal breathing, but the tension in that scene had been overwhelming.
As the lights went out, applause broke out. The audience was clapping for the innovative performance style they had just witnessed.
With the boss’s appearance, the rest of the plot naturally revolved around a battle of wits and strength. The Viking pirates were fierce and formidable, unleashing incredible power under the threat of death. But the icebreaker crew had the advantage of technology, and the ship was their home turf.
The final boss battle was indeed a siege against Chu Tingwu. Although it was a fight against a Viking pirate, it carried a sense of "a hero's fall." Anyone with a discerning eye could see that if it weren’t for the Viking pirate’s unfamiliarity with the ship's equipment and lack of proficiency in using technological weapons, Chu Tingwu would never have lost in a bare-handed fight—
This wasn’t just conveyed through projections and acting.
Commissioner Bai couldn’t help but quietly ask, “Who designed the fight choreography?”
There was none of that flashy, over-the-top stuff; it was clearly the kind of moves used in life-or-death struggles. And the excellent choreography was matched by a skilled actor—Chu Tingwu reacted swiftly, not as if he had memorized the moves, and even executed some highly physically demanding actions flawlessly. Professor Mi, who had watched their rehearsals, chuckled and said, “There wasn’t any choreography. Everyone just improvised and acted naturally.”
Commissioner Bai: “…”
He squinted and scrutinized the scene, convinced that the Viking pirate leader wasn’t just holding back—he had practically let the ocean loose during the final battle.
In the end, Chu Tingwu was defeated, and the crew of the icebreaker achieved a phased victory. They also learned about the impending crisis, setting the stage for what seemed like ample time to produce a sequel.
But even with just over half an hour of story, the audience was thoroughly satisfied and broke into applause.
The lights came up, but the projector remained on. Though the actors didn’t sing, they performed an ending theme.
The lights were only bright enough to not obstruct the view. As the ending theme played, the icebreaker navigated through icebergs, under a sun that never set, sailing across the sea in perpetual daylight. The play and reality merged at this moment… Everyone on board felt an unusually strong sense of immersion.
Commissioner Bai also thought they had cleverly pulled it off. At this point, Captain Shen signaled that the ship could connect a video call to the Shangjing City Spring Festival Gala team.
Despite the time difference, the ship celebrated the New Year according to Shangjing City time. This was a customary segment—sending video greetings from Antarctica to friends back home.
And the timing was perfect. Even though they were inside the cabin, behind them was a holographic projection of icebergs.
The Spring Festival Gala host on the other side of the screen played along and asked a few questions. Captain Shen then revealed that they had spontaneously organized a performance to celebrate the New Year, and this was the set from the play they had just performed.
Well done!
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Captain Shen led the camera backstage, wanting to give the actors a moment in the spotlight. Earlier, some of the younger actors had mentioned that they rehearsed this play hoping their families and friends could see them on the Spring Festival Gala.
He pulled back the curtain—
In the cluttered backstage, the “Viking pirate” who had removed his mask descended from above, swinging a prop sword at the head of a “researcher.”
The “researcher”: “Junior sister, wait, this isn’t how you play mounted combat!”
Perhaps caught up in the excitement, everyone forgot about the interview, the Spring Festival Gala, and the live broadcast… After shedding their heaviest costumes, they started playing mounted combat backstage. One person rode on another’s shoulders, clashing swords with their opponents, while the person acting as the “horse” could also charge into the opposing side. Whoever fell first, or whichever rider tumbled off their “horse,” lost.
Outside, there was a holographic projection, but backstage had nothing. Still, everyone enthusiastically provided their own sound effects—
“Ah-da!”
“Ura!”
“Awoo—”
“Meow!”
“Who’s meowing?” “Haha, my junior sister means that even if she just meows, she can take you all down!” “…Meow-rawr!” “Qin Ke, is your junior sister cursing at you? Isn’t that a cat’s swear word?” “Impossible… Ahhh, junior sister, hit them first! Aren’t we on the same team?”
Commissioner Bai took two steps back, let the curtain fall, and turned to the camera:
“Anyway… Happy New Year, everyone!”
Better not remind the folks inside. Let them enjoy the New Year.