Landlord in the Arctic

The camp had emptied out quite a bit, but Feng Mountain didn’t stay idle.

He rummaged through the back of a cabinet and pulled out a chef’s uniform he hadn’t worn in ages. After shaking off a bit of dust, he deftly changed into it.

Then, he dove into the kitchen, which was instantly filled with CLANGING and BANGING.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, it was noon.

A lively yet cozy scene was unfolding inside the dining hall.

Rows of dining tables had been neatly arranged into long lines. The matching two rows of chairs beside them were wiped spotless, gleaming under the light.

And the tables were laden with all sorts of mouth-watering, traditional Chinese dishes.

Dishes like spicy boiled beef, dry-fried beef strips, red-braised beef ribs, numbing-and-spicy fish fillets, and dry-pot mutton...

In terms of alluring color and tantalizing aroma, these dishes left Western food in the dust. They weren’t even in the same league.

To cope with the lunchtime rush, the waitresses from the tavern next door had been called over to help out.

They bustled between the dining tables and the kitchen, setting out tableware and refilling drinks, ensuring everything ran smoothly.

Just then, Sun Jia and Feng Jun walked into the restaurant, chatting and laughing.

The moment they stepped through the door, they were captivated by the sight of tables laden with Chinese food and the numbing, spicy, and savory aroma that filled the air.

As native Chinese, they had long grown tired of eating Western food for every meal.

They used to think that feasting on all the beef and mutton they could eat was the most satisfying feeling in the world.

But after a few months of it, the very sight of bread, steak, hamburgers, or sandwiches now made them sick to their stomachs.

Su Ziweng had opened a Chinese restaurant, but he’d run it half-heartedly, working by fits and starts.

Eventually, he just shut the place down for good.

Now, seeing the delicious Chinese food on the tables, their mouths started watering uncontrollably, and their stomachs began to growl.

Sun Jia was the first to react. She cleared her throat and called out loudly.

Hearing the shout, Feng Mountain poked his head out of the kitchen doorway. He was wearing a chef’s hat and working up a storm inside. "Got it! Just find a place to sit. We’ll be eating soon," he replied hastily, before ducking back in to finish the dishes.

A short while later, Yves appeared at the restaurant entrance with Fiona.

Fiona was cradling a bottle of red wine tied with a bright Christmas ribbon. It sparkled with multicolored light, adding a touch of festive cheer to the dining hall.

Trailing behind her were two little bear cubs, Xiong Da and Xiong Er.

They waddled along, their eyes darting about as they took in their surroundings with curiosity.

The night before, many of her young friends had left the camp one by one with their parents.

On top of that, Daisen had taken Lotti back to Polaris Town for Christmas, and Liu Lan had been called back to work at the Bear Tribe camp.

Suddenly, Fiona was the only one left of the Crown Territory’s "second-generation trio."

The little girl was clearly in low spirits, her head drooping.

Her normally bright, clever eyes were now somewhat dull, and she spoke listlessly, without any energy. It was a pitiable sight.

Thankfully, having Xiong Da and Xiong Er by her side brought her some comfort.

The instant they stepped into the restaurant, the enticing aroma of the food rushed to greet them.

Being the little foodies they were, Xiong Da and Xiong Er couldn’t hold back.

They immediately took off, scurrying under one of the dining tables.

Tilting their heads back, they pawed relentlessly at the table leg.

They yelped with impatience, desperate to get at the food, which made everyone chuckle.

Nash followed them in, striding into the restaurant with a freshly slaughtered sheep slung over his shoulder.

He nodded a greeting to the people in the dining hall, then carried the sheep straight into the kitchen to help prepare it.

After that, the rest of the people remaining in the camp trickled into the restaurant.

The once slightly empty hall was suddenly bustling with activity. Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the air as everyone eagerly awaited the lavish lunch.

Inside the kitchen, the stove was burning red-hot.

Vigorous flames leaped merrily, baking the entire kitchen until it was warm and toasty.

With practiced ease, Feng Mountain picked up a handful of roasted lamb skewers from the stove. They were sizzling with grease and smelled incredible.

The meat was roasted to a crispy, golden-brown perfection, its surface glistening with a light sheen of oil.

Then, with a light flick of his wrist, he gracefully scattered a secret blend of spices over the skewers before placing them on a tray.

Instantly, the aroma intensified, permeating every corner of the kitchen.

"Nash, take this out!" Feng Mountain turned to Nash, who was helping nearby, and called out loudly.

Nash grunted in acknowledgment, picked up the delicious, fresh-off-the-grill food, and headed out of the kitchen.

Feng Mountain took off his chef’s coat, now lightly stained with grease and smoke, hung it on a hook on the wall, straightened his clothes, and followed him out.

By now, the dining hall was once again as bustling as it had been the day before.

People were scattered throughout the spacious hall, gathered in small groups of two and three. Their cheerful voices and laughter wove together into a pleasant din.

Here and there, one could hear a few hushed whispers mixed in.

Everyone wore relaxed, happy expressions.

Feng Mountain walked into the dining hall and swept his gaze across the room. ’This is about everyone who’s left in camp,’ he estimated to himself.

The Bear Tribe had always abided by their own traditions and were generally unwilling to participate in these kinds of events.

If Feng Mountain hadn’t insisted, they wouldn’t have shown up for the Christmas Eve party at all.

’Hmm, Natasha’s group still isn’t here, and old Granny Frank hasn’t arrived either,’ Feng Mountain muttered to himself.

But the words had barely left his lips, proving the old adage: speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Just as he was about to call everyone to their seats and start the meal, the restaurant door slowly began to swing open.