Landlord in the Arctic

In truth, this was exactly the effect Feng Mountain wanted.

Although he had bought the best plot in the cemetery and the management had made a heap of promises when he signed the contract and paid, the actual work still fell to these low-level employees.

These were the employees who moved through the cemetery every day.

A quick wipe with a cloth or a sweep of a broom from them could determine whether a headstone gathered dust or a flower box filled with dirt.

As the saying goes, it’s easier to face Yama himself than to deal with his underlings.

These people were two-faced, putting on a different front for every occasion.

He, Xiaohua, and Hu Zi couldn’t come to the cemetery every day.

They would inevitably have to ask these cemetery workers for help with things like dusting off Ms.’s gravestone and clearing away fallen leaves.

Rather than wait for Ms.’s final resting place to be neglected, it was better to spend a little money now to smooth things over in advance. It would save a lot of trouble later.

Manager Pang pretended to casually raise his hand and check his watch. "Mr. Feng, it’s about time. Let’s head up. The Daoists are getting ready to start the ritual."

"Let’s go!" Feng Mountain shifted the Coca-Cola to his other arm, his black windbreaker snapping loudly in the wind.

Xiaohua instinctively pulled her shawl tighter, the gentle curve of her pregnant belly visible beneath the loose fabric. Hu Zi took off his jacket and draped it over her, while Black Hide and Black Egg silently picked up the bamboo baskets containing the offerings.

The moment the group stepped into the cemetery, the fierce wind swept up the dead leaves on the gravel path, sending them spiraling into the headstones with a RUSTLING sound.

The staff members hurriedly gathered the white chrysanthemums and lilies from the side, their plastic wrappers CRINKLING loudly in the wind.

The plain white satin ribbons tied to the bouquets were blown about, tangling in the branches and looking eerily like fluttering soul-summoning banners.

The clouds in the sky hung lower and lower. The lead-gray masses, like crumpled cotton, churned and pressed against each other at a speed visible to the naked eye.

A bolt of lightning tore through the heavy, dark clouds. In the fleeting white light, the distant mountaintop seemed to be plated with a sinister silver edge.

The gale suddenly intensified, sweeping withered petals into the air. They tangled with swirling blades of grass, weaving a vortex above the solemn cemetery path.

By this time, a ritual altar had been erected next to Ms.’s grave.

Under the gloomy sky, the black cloth canopy snapped violently in the wind, looking as if it could be ripped away at any moment.

The altar held the Three Pure Ones Statue. The figures were wrapped in dark gold satin that glinted coldly in the dim light.

Three Bronze Incense Burners were placed side-by-side. Sandalwood smoke struggled to rise in the strong wind, forming thin wisps of green that were immediately torn to shreds and scattered into the air.

The sides were lined with colorful flags painted with Cinnabar talismans. The characters on them twisted and swayed in the wind, looking strangely, eerily alive.

𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

A Peach Wood Sword, a Dharma Seal, a Token, and other Dharma Artifacts were arranged neatly on a long table covered with a Profound Velvet Cloth.

The red silk wrapped around the Peach Wood Sword snapped in the wind. The mottled patterns on the surface of the Dharma Seal and the Token spoke of the passage of time.

On the offering table before the altar, various sacrificial items were laid out neatly, the skins of fresh fruit glistening enticingly.

The rice wine filling the goblets trembled in the wind. Its aroma mingled with the scent of sandalwood, pervading the air.

Seven Daoists, dressed in black, wide-sleeved robes, stood ready. The silver cloud patterns embroidered on their garments were barely visible in the dim light.

Their expressions were solemn as they held their Dharma Artifacts, surrounding the grave.

They rhythmically struck the Dharma Artifacts in their hands. The clear ring of the copper bells, the dull rap of the Wooden Fish, and the DUM-DUM beat of the drum intertwined.

The Daoists chanted abstruse scriptures, their voices rising and falling, intermittently carried and cut off by the wind.

Feng Mountain walked up the stone steps, clutching the Coca-Cola and treading on leaves swept up by the wind.

Under the somber sky, the ritual before Ms.’s grave was in full swing.

Looking at the complex setup before him, a sense of helplessness washed over him.

’I had originally just wanted to move Ms.’s ashes to the new grave quietly.’

’Who knew the cemetery management would convince me that moving a grave is a major event in Hai City?’

’According to local customs, "disturbing the earth and moving a coffin disrupts the balance of yin and yang," and a ritual is needed to restore peace for the good of both the deceased and the living.’

It was only with this in mind that Feng Mountain had reluctantly agreed.

As for how to do it, Feng Mountain didn’t have to worry about the process. The cemetery management office would handle everything.

"Mr. Feng, these are the Daoists from Hai City’s Yuquan Temple. They handle all the grave relocation rituals in the city," Manager Pang introduced in a low voice. He then hurried forward to whisper to the leading Daoist White Beard.

The old Daoist gently flicked his horsetail whisk. His white hair flew in the wind as he looked at Feng Mountain, his gaze as deep as an old well, and gave a slow nod.

Manager Pang scurried back down the steps, his black leather shoes slipping on the damp ground. After barely regaining his balance, he rushed to Feng Mountain’s side.

He lowered his voice, spraying spittle that reeked of stale smoke near Feng Mountain’s ear.

"Mr. Feng, the ritual is about to begin. According to custom, the relatives need to stand back. When they take out the urn, wait for my signal, then come and receive it."

As he spoke, his small eyes kept darting toward the altar, afraid of missing any detail.

"Got it." Feng Mountain nodded, leading his friends to the designated open area.

Xiaohua suddenly stumbled, her pregnant belly shifting slightly under her loose coat. Hu Zi was quick to catch her by the shoulder. Warm tears soaked into Hu Zi’s black jacket as Xiaohua buried her face in his chest, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

Black Hide and Black Egg held the offering baskets, their eyes red and their faces etched with sorrow.

「The ritual began.」

Daoist White Beard walked with a steady gait to the front of the altar. His rail-thin fingers pinched three sticks of sandalwood. As the candle flame licked at them, the wood suddenly erupted in a plume of green smoke.

The smoke rose straight into the air, only to be abruptly caught by the wind and scattered into thin threads.

The old Daoist’s brow furrowed slightly. He immediately picked up a copper bell from the altar.

With a flick of his wrist, the clear ring of the bell pierced the heavy air.