Landlord in the Arctic

Every subtle movement could trigger a violent conflict.

Only the cold wind howled, kicking up the snow on the ground with a rustling sound.

Feng Mountain paid no mind to the tense situation before him.

Ignoring Yves’s attempts to stop him, he resolutely stepped out from behind the cover of the vehicles and walked a few steps toward the hillside.

He then drew the pistol from his waist, placed it gently on the snow, and slowly turned in a full circle.

In a situation on the brink of conflict, this gesture had a specific meaning: it signaled that he was not a threat and was requesting to parley.

Soon, there was movement from the log cabin on the hillside.

A figure in a cowboy hat appeared, shouldering a long rifle that looked to be a lever-action model.

The person kept the rifle’s muzzle pointed skyward, resting on their shoulder, and unhurriedly walked down the slope.

As the figure drew closer, Feng Mountain was surprised to discover that the "man" before him was actually an old woman with a full head of white hair.

Beneath a faded, wide-brimmed hat, her silver-white curls stuck out stubbornly.

Although time had etched deep lines on her face, she was full of vigor.

Her eyes, in particular, shone with a bright light and a flash of sharpness, like an old, untamed lioness, ready at any moment to mount her old steed and patrol her domain.

They stopped two meters apart.

The old woman first glanced at the convoy of vehicles, her eyes filled with scrutiny and vigilance.

Then, her sharp gaze fell upon Feng Mountain like a sword.

"Who are you, and why are you trespassing on Melon Ranch?"

Feng Mountain offered a friendly smile, doing his best to maintain a harmless posture, and said softly,

"My apologies, ma’am. I am Feng Mountain, the owner of the Alaska Crown Territory. You can call me Feng. A few of my employees came home for Christmas, and I’m here to pick them up."

’Crown Territory?’

’Feng?’

The old woman, still shouldering her rifle, had a flicker of doubt in her bright eyes.

She stared intently at Feng Mountain, as if trying to discern something from his expression.

"So you’re Feng, Jenny’s boss? But didn’t she return to the Crown Territory the day before yesterday? Why are you here at Melon Ranch looking for someone?"

’She returned to the Crown Territory?’

Feng Mountain looked at the old woman’s confused expression. Her gaze was clear and sincere; she didn’t seem to be lying.

He frowned slightly and said, "I’m sorry, but the day before yesterday, we received one last call from Erica. She said they were in danger, so we flew here from Alaska overnight."

"Erica? That overly energetic girl with the tattoos?"

Hearing that name, the old woman’s expression gradually grew serious.

She turned and made a gesture to the people on the hillside, then looked back at Feng Mountain and said slowly, "I don’t know what happened, but I think this must be a misunderstanding. That being the case, can you have your men put away their guns?"

"Of course!" Feng Mountain nodded. He understood the old woman’s meaning—it was a signal for both sides to stand down.

He turned his head and waved to his men behind the vehicles, indicating that everything was fine.

Seeing this, the veterans put away their weapons, and the tense atmosphere began to ease.

Then, Yves led the veterans out from behind the vehicles.

However, they remained on alert, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings, their bodies leaning slightly forward.

Ready to jump back into combat at a moment’s notice.

"Come on inside for a cup of hot cocoa, child. I think there’s something going on here that none of us know about." The old woman lowered her rifle, a hint of warmth in her bright eyes as she beckoned to Feng Mountain.

"Of course!"

Feng Mountain accepted with a pleasant smile.

He turned and waved to his men behind him.

He led his men up the slope behind the old woman, arriving in front of a two-story log cabin.

The people who had been part of the standoff emerged from all around and gathered by the old woman’s side.

They were all dressed like cowboys—men and women, young and old—and they looked at Feng Mountain’s group with curiosity.

"Laura, go prepare some hot cocoa to warm everyone up!" the old woman ordered a plump woman with a healthy, wheat-colored complexion.

"Yes, ma’am!"

The plump woman acknowledged the order and hurried into the log cabin, her quick steps clearly showing she was preparing to host her guests.

"Diego, come with me!"

The old woman then spoke to a young man in the crowd with curly brown hair. He immediately straightened up, a nervous glint in his eyes.

Then, the old woman gestured for Feng Mountain to enter the house.

"Pardon the intrusion," Feng Mountain said with a slight bow, a humble expression on his face.

Leaving Yves and the others to wait outside, he followed the old woman into the log cabin alone.

Upon entering, he had to pass through a hallway lined with horse tack.

The tack on both sides of the hall was a dazzling array.

Reins, saddles, stirrups—everything was there, each piece gleaming with a faint, aged luster.

Sunlight streamed in through the window at the end of the hallway.

It cast patches of light and shadow on the floor that mingled with the tack, exuding a thick Western cowboy atmosphere.

As soon as he stepped into the living room, a warm and distinct aroma washed over him.

The wood burning brightly in the fireplace CRACKLED.

The unique scent of pine, mixed with a hint of char, instantly filled the air.

On the worn wooden floor, every crack seemed embedded with the marks of time, recording its passage.

The faded plaid cover on the old wooden sofa was worn shiny on the armrests.

Looking up, a mounted reindeer head hung high on the wall, its hollow yet majestic eyes gazing down at everything in the living room.

Next to it were several bolt-action rifles, their frames exuding an antique quality, steeped in a sense of history that brought to mind the hunting days of old.

Feng Mountain found himself stopping in front of a wooden shelf.

The shelf was filled with all sorts of items.

There were rustic pottery jars, old books, and some small ornaments.

However, his gaze was drawn to the many picture frames arranged on the shelf.

The frames held what appeared to be family photos of the cabin’s residents.

In the photos, Feng Mountain saw the path of Jenny’s growth.

From a little girl playing in the mud to a vibrant young woman.

Time had cast a nostalgic filter over every smiling face, filling them with innocence and joy.

In the photos, she was sometimes running and playing in the grass, other times sitting with her family.

Her smile was like a blooming spring flower, brilliant and enchanting.

These photos were like an invisible thread, connecting Jenny’s past and present.

They also gave Feng Mountain a more direct understanding of her history.

From among the many frames, Feng Mountain gently picked one up.

The Jenny in the photo was in her teens, her face without its scar.

She was riding a magnificent black horse, her flying skirt revealing sun-tanned, wheat-colored calves.

Her calves were firm and strong, full of life.

Her smile was like the blazing July sun, pouring out unreservedly onto the faded photo paper.

It was full of youthful energy and vitality.

"Child!"

A gentle voice pulled Feng Mountain, who was lost in the photograph, back to reality.

He turned his head to see the old woman already seated on the sofa, watching him with a kind gaze.

"Sorry, this is the first time I’ve seen what Jenny looked like as a child!"

Feng Mountain smiled with a touch of embarrassment, quickly but gently set the frame down, and walked over to the old woman.

A reminiscent glimmer shone in the old woman’s eyes.

Her gaze seemed to travel back through a tunnel of time to years gone by.

But she quickly snapped back to the present.

She showed no signs of panic over Jenny’s disappearance.

Instead, she looked up calmly at the brown-haired young man standing beside her.

"Diego, you were the one who drove Jenny and the others to the airport. Why did Jenny go missing?" The old woman’s voice was gentle, but it carried an unexplainable authority as she stared intently at the curly-haired young man.

Hearing the old woman’s question, the curly-haired young man, Diego, first froze. His eyes widened slightly, his face showing surprise.

His voice trembled and his eyes betrayed his panic. He tried his best to recall the situation as he waved his hands to explain.

"Ma’am, I don’t know! When I was driving Sister Jenny to the airport, the car spun out of control on the road and went into a ditch. Then we ran into Big Brother Gruus, and I asked him to help take Sister Jenny to the airport."

Just then, the plump woman walked into the living room carrying a few cups of hot cocoa.

Hearing the old woman’s question, the tray in her hands fell with a CRASH. She said in a panic,

"Ma’am, Diego would never do anything to hurt Miss Jenny! He grew up on the ranch, you know that! It must have been Gruus! Yes, it was him!"

...