Landlord in the Arctic-Chapter 53: Doubt

He set up the satellite terminal and lit the tribal Fire Seed.

Back at the camp, Feng Mountain didn’t even have a moment to catch his breath before he had to get busy with other things. Life in the Far North Tundra wasn’t just about distant horizons and poetry; it was also about an endless stream of chores.

For now, their food reserves were sufficient. Firewood, on the other hand, had become their main consumable.

It was needed for cooking and for keeping warm.

Feng Mountain had once calculated that the camp consumed 30 kilograms of firewood per day for heating and cooking. Especially over the past few days, with people constantly dropping by to freeload, their wood consumption had multiplied. The woodpile, once stacked as high as a wall, was now more than half gone.

He called for Nash, and the two of them dragged a sledge out of camp, heading into the Moonlight Forest to gather firewood.

"Nash, the tree’s coming down! Watch out!" As Feng Mountain swung his axe one last time, the dead tree let out a loud CREAK and began to teeter. He quickly shouted for Nash to pull the rope tight.

But when he glanced back, a cold sweat broke out all over Feng Mountain.

Nash was holding the rope, completely dazed. He was supposed to be standing off to the side, but he was now directly in the path of the falling tree.

Feng Mountain dropped his axe, sprinted forward, and grabbed Nash by the collar, yanking him back.

CRACK!

The dead tree crashed to the ground, sending shattered, dry branches flying. A piece struck Feng Mountain in the face, leaving several gashes. He ignored the blood trickling down his cheek and stared at Nash, who was sitting dumbfounded in the snow, before letting loose a string of curses.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?! What the hell were you thinking?"

"If you want to die, go do it somewhere else! Do you have any idea you were almost killed?"

Nash finally snapped out of it. He scrambled to his feet, a terrified look on his face, and reached out to wipe the blood from Feng Mountain’s cheek. But he stopped halfway, then dropped to his knees in panic.

Seeing Nash so out of it, Feng Mountain guessed it had to be related to the tribal Fire Seed. Nash had been in a daze ever since they’d lit it on the Glacial River Beach.

Feng Mountain picked up his axe. "Forget it. You just load the wood onto the sledge. Leave the tree felling to me."

With that, he grabbed a steel saw from the sledge and began cutting the fallen tree into logs.

Nash knew he had messed up. Without a word, he began gathering the scattered dead branches, bundling them with willow twigs and loading them onto the sledge.

The dead tree was a North American Larch. This type of pinewood splits easily and has little resin, giving off a piney smell when burned. Its downsides were that it burned quickly and didn’t produce much heat. Other firewood options included fir and poplar.

Of course, birch was the best. It was the ideal fuel for a wood stove, releasing a tremendous amount of heat, but its drawback was that it burned very quickly.

However, his grand-uncle had explicitly forbidden cutting down birch trees in his diary.

This was because you could get sap from birch trees, which was sweet and healthy. Unfortunately, the tapping season only lasted for two weeks in early April.

Even with the sledge piled high with wood, they had only taken about half of the fallen tree.

After dragging the sledge back to camp, the two of them got busy unloading the wood.

To prevent Nash from zoning out again, Feng Mountain had him stay at camp to split the logs they’d collected into smaller chunks. He himself would go back into the forest to haul more wood.

Nash, his face full of guilt, asked several times to go with him, but Feng Mountain refused each time.

Time always flies when you’re busy.

The sky gradually began to darken.

After hauling the last load of wood, the busy day finally came to an end. A satisfied smile appeared on Feng Mountain’s face as he saw the firewood pile once again stacked high like a wall.

Dinner was a stew of potatoes and dried venison.

Fluffy potatoes, a thick broth, and tender venison. He scooped a spoonful over his rice.

Tsk, tsk.

He’d had more than enough of it!!

Three meals a day, and every meal was either venison or bear meat. Feng Mountain was sick to death of it. Even with the occasional fish, Thunderbird, or wild rabbit, he couldn’t get away from his two staple meats.

’I want some greens... green peppers, celtuce, cilantro...’

’I miss my humble little home on that rooftop.’

Feng Mountain, a man who could normally put away two kilograms of meat in a single sitting, lost his appetite halfway through dinner. He put down his bowl and chopsticks and went to sit alone in the living room’s rocking chair, staring out the window.

A sudden sense of loneliness washed over him.

Nash, still holding his bowl, saw that the stew pot—usually scraped clean—was still half full. He assumed Feng Mountain was still upset about his stupid mistake from earlier.

He walked over to Feng Mountain, head bowed, and said guiltily, "Khilla, I’m sorry." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"What are you apologizing for? It’s nothing, go on and eat." Feng Mountain smiled and waved a hand, then pulled out the satellite phone. "I’m going to call home. You finish your dinner. And don’t give Prince too much meat, look how fat he’s getting."

With that, Feng Mountain stepped out of the bus and gazed up at the brilliant, star-filled night sky.

It was getting dark earlier and earlier. When he’d first arrived, night didn’t fall until after 9:00. Now, it was already dark just past 8:00, a full hour sooner.

Alaska time was seventeen to eighteen hours behind the time back home in China. It should be 11:00 AM the next day there, so Black Hide would probably be free.

With that in mind, he dialed the number.

It rang a few times before Black Hide picked up. The connection was staticky, probably from a weak signal.

"Brother Shan, is that you?"

"It’s me. This is my new satellite phone number. Are you busy?"

"Not at all, not at all! Hu Zi is here with me, we’re getting a license plate! Hey, Hu Zi, it’s Brother Shan on the phone!"

"Brother Shan, it’s Hu Zi! How are things on your end?"

"I’m eating bear meat and venison every single day. I’m so sick of it I could puke. You tell me how it’s going."

"Xiaohua figured you wouldn’t be used to the food, so she mailed you some vegetable seeds. They only allowed her to send a few kinds. She also included some of her homemade pickles and bean paste."

"Hua’Er is pregnant. Don’t let her overexert herself. Make sure she gets plenty of rest at home."

"Don’t worry, I know. Oh, right, Brother Shan... Fucai and Fu Yun heard you went abroad. They asked for your number, but I didn’t give it to them."

"The past is the past. It’s better this way, with no contact between us."

"Okay, I’m hanging up now. These calls cost a fortune a minute."

...

After hanging up, Feng Mountain felt much better. When he returned to the bus, he found that Nash had already cleaned the pots and bowls and was sitting by the stove.

"Sleeping in the bus tonight?" Feng Mountain asked.

Nash shook his head and stood up to leave. There was nothing Feng Mountain could do, so he just let him go.

A kerosene lamp hung by the head of the bed, casting a dim, yellow glow.

Prince and Coca-Cola were already curled up on the bed, sleeping soundly.

Feng Mountain put down his book, arranged his blankets, and prepared to sleep.

He extinguished the kerosene lamp, plunging the bedroom into darkness. Outside, the cold wind howled.

His thoughts drifted to the tribal Fire Seed on the Glacial River Beach.

The next moment, the Fire Seed appeared in his mind’s eye. Unfortunately, it was still very weak; he could only see the area within its immediate glow. Beyond that was pitch blackness.

Within the faint light of the Fire Seed, Feng Mountain was surprised to see a figure kneeling beside the fire pit.

It was Nash.

’What’s that kid doing way out on the snowy mountain in the middle of the night?’

’No wonder he was so out of it while we were cutting firewood. He’s been fixated on the Fire Seed this whole time.’

Not far from Nash, a White Feathered Eagle was perched on the stones encircling the fire pit.

The White Feathered Eagle’s powerful form was especially striking in the firelight. Its white feathers were flecked with black spots, and its sharp eyes were fixed on the Fire Seed.

’What a beautiful eagle.’

Feng Mountain marveled. He controlled the firelight, moving it closer to the eagle, and muttered to himself.

"What are you doing here, little guy?"

The eagle seemed to sense something. It tilted its head, a hint of vigilance appearing in its eyes. It ruffled its wings and let out a sharp, clear cry.

Far away in the bus, Feng Mountain was filled with confusion.

’Can the eagle sense my presence?’

...