Landlord in the Arctic

Before long, the aroma of beef began to fill the narrow living room.

Once the stew pot came to a boil, bubbling away, Feng Mountain added the noodles. He stirred them gently with chopsticks, watching them tumble in the pot.

A few minutes later, a pot of simple beef noodles was ready.

Feng Mountain ladled a bowl full of noodles and broth, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and handed them to Natasha, his tone deliberately teasing.

"Her Majesty the Queen, I forgot to tell you, we only have chopsticks here, no forks."

Natasha shot the petty man a look, took the bowl and chopsticks, and said flatly, "I studied abroad in China. I know how to use chopsticks."

With that, she skillfully picked up the chopsticks, gracefully lifted some noodles, and brought them to her mouth.

Her movements were fluid and natural, showing no awkwardness at all with the chopsticks.

’So what if she studied abroad?’

’She’s still eating food made by a junior high school student.’

Feng Mountain grumbled silently to himself. He stopped paying attention to Natasha and just lifted the pot, slurping down the noodles noisily.

The scalding hot noodle soup slid down their throats.

Instantly, a wave of warmth spread through them. Their frozen bodies suddenly felt toasty, and both of them couldn’t help but let out a long, comfortable sigh.

Trying to maintain her etiquette, Natasha had only had a little to drink at the party, and she had just been freezing the whole way here.

By now, her stomach was rumbling with hunger.

She finished every last noodle and drop of broth in the bowl, but she was still not satisfied, thinking she’d like a little more.

But when she saw Feng Mountain cradling the pot, sweating as he ate, she swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue and reluctantly gave up the idea.

Putting down her bowl and chopsticks, she stood up from the lounge chair and, by the dim yellow light of the kerosene lamp, began to look around the bus.

Feng Mountain glanced at Natasha as she explored but paid her no mind, lowering his head to keep devouring his noodles.

After he finished eating, he collected the bowl and chopsticks, tossed them in the kitchen, and returned to the stove. With no regard for his image, he peeled off his damp socks and draped them right over the edge of the stove to dry.

His motto was to do whatever was most comfortable.

Soon, as the stove fire baked the stinky socks, the smell of feet began to spread, slowly overpowering the lingering aroma of the beef noodle soup.

Just then, Natasha returned to the living room after looking at the bedroom, holding a photo frame in her hand.

As soon as she entered the living room, she saw Feng Mountain casually propping his stinky feet up by the stove to warm them. Next to the stove hung a pair of socks, wisps of white steam rising from them, the smell of which assaulted her nostrils.

Natasha’s fine eyebrows knitted together slightly, a look of disgust on her face.

But she quickly smoothed her brow, as if deciding not to dwell on it.

She walked to the rocking chair and sat down gracefully.

Then, she actually copied Feng Mountain, propping her own fair feet up by the stove.

The warmth slowly traveled up from her feet through her whole body. Natasha closed her eyes comfortably, relaxing and enjoying the rare moment of peace, as if she didn’t notice the foot odor permeating the air at all.

Feng Mountain casually slanted his gaze toward Natasha.

His previously nonchalant expression froze, and he stared, slightly stunned.

Natasha was reclining languidly in the rocking chair.

The unique shape of the rocking chair, low in the middle and high at the ends, further accentuated her graceful figure.

She was covered only by a blanket, and beneath it was that pitifully thin evening gown. To warm her feet, Natasha had to bend her legs, and the hem of her dress had ridden up at some point. Certain parts were now faintly visible, as if through a thin veil of gauze, subtly outlining her exquisite curves.

The pose was utterly captivating; anyone who saw it couldn’t help but stare for a few extra moments.

Being a man, Feng Mountain’s gaze lingered for a few seconds longer than it should have.

"Have you had your fill?" Natasha, keenly aware of Feng Mountain’s lingering gaze, quickly pulled her feet back under the blanket. Her voice, tinged with feigned anger, shattered the brief tranquility inside the bus.

Immediately after, a photo frame came flying straight toward him.

Feng Mountain’s body reacted instinctively, his hand shooting up to catch the frame securely.

For a moment, his face burned with heat, like a child who’d been caught misbehaving. He lowered his head sheepishly, his gaze averted, pretending to study the photo frame.

Inside the frame was a slightly faded, old photograph.

In the photo, his grand-uncle, then in his middle age, stood elegantly beside a blonde woman of the same age, a kind and amiable smile on his face.

Between them stood a little blonde girl.

The little girl’s eyes were bright and lively, a hint of playfulness and innocence in them.

’That face.’

Feng Mountain studied the photo carefully, then looked up again in confusion, his gaze shifting back and forth between the picture and Natasha’s face. He couldn’t help but ask.

"This is...?"

"My mother and me. We came to the Crown Territory 20 years ago and took this picture with Feng. And you just threw it in a pile of junk."

A flash of anger crossed Natasha’s beautiful blue eyes. She glared at Feng Mountain, her tone filled with reproach.

"How was I supposed to know it was you? I thought they were friends of my grand-uncle," Feng Mountain muttered in his defense, scratching his head guiltily and lowering his voice.

He had indeed come across the photo by chance when he was cleaning out the bedroom.

He had only glanced at it briefly, and seeing it just tossed in a drawer, he assumed it was something unimportant.

So he’d casually thrown it onto the junk pile.

The atmosphere in the bus was tense now. He looked at Natasha’s cheeks, slightly flushed with anger.

To defuse the awkwardness, Feng Mountain scratched his head, pointed sheepishly at the beaming little blonde girl in the photo, and forced a smile.

"You know, you were way cuter as a kid than you are now."

"If you don’t know how to talk, then just shut up."

Natasha rolled her eyes, utterly speechless at Feng Mountain’s cluelessness.

’The mood was so nice. Even just a few sweet, comforting words would have made my heart feel warm.’

’What on earth is going on in that head of his?’

After that cringey attempt at conversation, the already subdued atmosphere was completely dead.

The living room fell silent, the only sounds being the occasional CRACKLE of the fire and the howling of the wind outside.

Feng Mountain opened his mouth as if to explain himself.

But seeing Natasha’s pouting expression, he swallowed his words.

He stole a glance at Natasha, sighed helplessly, and could only pray silently that this awkward situation would pass quickly.

WHOOSH!

A blast of frigid wind howled past the bus.

Immediately after, huge snowflakes were swept up by the wind, slamming against the windowpane with a RUSTLING sound.

Lying lazily in the rocking chair, Natasha wanted to turn her head and pull open the curtain covering the window.

But between the angle of the rocking chair and her current position, she couldn’t quite twist her arm around. After a few failed attempts, her brow furrowed slightly, a flash of annoyance on her face.

Feng Mountain had been keeping an eye on her. Seeing this, he quickly got up and walked over.

He reached out and slowly drew the curtain open, his movements gentle and careful, as if afraid to disturb the tranquility.

Then, he raised his hand and used his palm to wipe away the condensation that had formed on the glass from the temperature difference, clearing the view of the outside.

Natasha turned her head slightly, her gaze passing through the window to the scene outside.

In the night sky, the magnificent aurora danced like a graceful performer.

The cold wind and snowflakes seemed drawn in by its charm, swirling around it in an accompanying dance.

Inside the bus, the wood in the stove burned with a cheerful CRACKLE AND POP, adding a touch of warmth to the cold winter night.

At that moment, Natasha’s long, fair neck was like that of a graceful swan.

Her exquisitely carved features looked even more radiant and captivating in the glow of the fire and the aurora.

Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like a soft waterfall.

The scene was so beautiful it was dreamlike; time itself seemed to stand still.

A strange feeling, a sort of lonely warmth, spread silently through the bus like a slowly flowing, icy stream.

Feng Mountain sat to the side, watching this scene, and for a moment, his heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly, a song lyric popped into his head for no reason.

"The rowdy wind always torments the lonely, reminding me of how it lifted the black ends of your hair. The swirling snow burst through my door, and I thought it was you, pushing it gently open."

And Feng Mountain truly felt that this arrogant, willful woman before him also possessed a different kind of charm.

’As long as she doesn’t open her mouth.’

...