Landlord in the Arctic

He practically shouted as he typed and sent the text. He couldn’t care less about profits right now; the camp’s survival hung on this single decision.

[Don’t worry about whether it’s worth it or not. I can afford the loss. Just fish for anything, right now, immediately.]

Alvin’s reply carried a hint of helplessness.

[Alright. Right now, we can only catch Atka Mackerel. That fish only sells for 0.5 US Dollar a pound. The River Beach will be operating at a loss.]

Seeing the reply, Feng Mountain’s eyes flew wide open, and anger surged within him.

[Don’t worry about the loss. I can afford it. There must be a fishing operation today. I don’t care what you catch. This is an order.]

Feng Mountain’s tone was now unyieldingly firm. He had only one thought in his mind: ’I must keep the tribe’s Fire Seed burning.’

Alvin, still seeming a little confused, sent another message.

[Okay, Boss. Why are you texting instead of calling?]

Feng Mountain looked at the text, so angry he almost smashed his phone. He suppressed his irritation and replied.

[Fack, a cold wave hit Crown Territory and froze the signal tower. Hurry up and start the fishing operation. I can only hold out for one day.]

...

On the Bering Sea, the River Beach struggled to cut through the surging waves.

The lead-gray sky hung extremely low, so heavy it seemed to press against the roiling surface of the sea.

The sea wind was like a crazed beast, carrying a bone-chilling cold. It howled and roared, viciously slamming against the ship’s hull again and again, creating a deafening, dull, and oppressive sound.

Alvin stood in the wheelhouse, his body trembling slightly, his hand clutching his phone tightly.

His brow was furrowed into deep lines, his face filled with unconcealable anxiety.

The boss’s last text said a cold wave was hitting Crown Territory.

Those few short words were enough to make Alvin feel like he couldn’t breathe.

When he was at his lowest, it was the boss who gave him light and hope, who didn’t care that he was a cripple and entrusted the River Beach to him with immense faith.

But now the boss was caught in a cold wave and blizzard. With the crude facilities in Crown Territory, he probably wouldn’t last long.

Filled with worry, he typed one inquiring text after another on his phone screen.

However, these messages were like kites with their strings cut, plunging into the vast sea, never to return a single echo.

’Did something happen to the boss?’

The moment this terrifying thought flashed through his mind, Alvin felt his heart lurch.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he lunged forward, roughly snatched the intercom, and yelled hoarsely into the microphone.

"First Mate!"

His voice, raw and sharp with anxiety, echoed in the wheelhouse for a long time.

"Captain, I’m here," the First Mate’s calm and capable voice came clearly from the other end of the intercom.

"Check the weather bureau’s alerts right now. See if there are any unusual weather warnings for the northern region recently. I think something’s happened to the boss."

Alvin spoke as fast as a machine gun, getting the whole sentence out in one breath without the slightest pause.

A deep worry burned in his eyes, his gaze so intense it seemed it could pierce through the intercom and reach the First Mate.

At the same time, Alvin’s hand unconsciously tightened its grip, his knuckles turning a deathly white from the excessive force. The blue veins on his wrist bulged, clearly visible.

"Roger that!" the First Mate responded, his reply short and firm.

Putting down the handset, Alvin was still unable to calm down. He paced back and forth anxiously in the wheelhouse.

All sorts of ominous images flashed through his mind, and the more he thought, the more he felt something was wrong.

An inexplicable sense of panic grew stronger, pressing down on his chest so heavily he could barely breathe.

Right now, the fishing vessel was adrift on the Bering Sea, and the cell signal was so weak it was almost nonexistent.

Trying to get immediate meteorological information was as difficult as climbing to heaven.

But Boss Feng Mountain’s fate was unknown, and every second of delay could make the situation even worse.

This left Alvin burning with anxiety but utterly helpless. He could only wait eagerly for news from the First Mate, mired in worry and torment.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP!

A series of hurried and messy footsteps suddenly rang out in the corridor outside the cabin.

It broke the dull, oppressive atmosphere, each footfall striking heavily against Alvin’s taut nerves.

Immediately after, the burly First Mate appeared at the cabin door, his expression panicked and his face a mask of alarm.

His large frame almost blocked the entire doorway. He was panting heavily, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. His voice, trembling with anxiety, called out.

"Captain, there’s an extreme cold wave and blizzard warning for the Far North Region! The epicenter should be right near Crown Territory!"

Alvin knew all too well what it meant for Crown Territory to be at the epicenter of an extreme cold wave and blizzard.

As a veteran fisherman who had struggled and spent years on the Bering Sea.

He had personally experienced the devastation of a cold wave.

He had seen with his own eyes how the overwhelming ice and snow could snuff out all signs of life.

He naturally understood what a cold wave and blizzard signified.

The boss’s camp had only just been established. Its foundations were still shallow, and its facilities were far from complete.

They were completely unprepared to defend against a cold wave. The people at the camp must be in an extremely dangerous situation right now.

"First Mate, contact a plane." Alvin forced down his inner panic, gritting his teeth and squeezing out the words.

If they could just send a plane over.

Perhaps they could rescue the boss and the camp’s inhabitants before the worst-case scenario occurred.

The First Mate’s mouth moved slightly, a bitter and helpless look on his face. Leaning on the cabin door, he said softly.

"Captain, the northern region has already been designated a no-fly zone."

This sentence was like a bucket of ice-cold seawater poured over the flicker of hope that had just ignited in Alvin, instantly extinguishing it.

"Fack! Bullshit! Why did a cold wave have to show up right after I left? Why did I have to leave?" Alvin could no longer suppress his rage and regret, a string of curses spilling from his lips.

He then balled his hands into fists, raised them high, and slammed them down hard on the control console.

BANG! The loud noise made the instruments on the console buzz.

After his outburst, Alvin still wouldn’t give up, like a drowning man clutching at a final piece of driftwood.

He grabbed his phone, his trembling fingers dialing the boss’s number as he prayed silently for the call to go through.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP...

However, the only response was the BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP... of a dead line from the phone.

The monotonous, cold sound was like a death sentence.

It declared that the connection between the River Beach and Feng Mountain was now completely severed.

It also plunged Alvin into deeper despair.

Aboard the River Beach, the news spread as if it had wings.

At first, just a few crew members heard whispers that a cold wave and blizzard had struck Crown Territory.

But before long, one person told ten, and ten told a hundred.

Panic and worry spread through every corner of the ship like a surging undercurrent.

The crew members could no longer contain their anxiety and spontaneously began to flock toward the wheelhouse.

In a short while, a crowd of crew members had gathered outside the wheelhouse.

Their faces were grave, their eyes filled with concern and unease, and they muttered amongst themselves from time to time.

In their hearts, the boss was a genuinely good man, a rare find.

He was generous with pay on ordinary days, never stingy.

And the holiday bonuses always made everyone feel warm inside.

Now, hearing that the boss’s camp had been struck by a natural disaster.

None of them felt good about it, their hearts filled with laments of ’How could such a terrible thing happen?’

Alvin remained inside the wheelhouse like a frozen statue, clutching his phone motionlessly, his fingers white from the force of his grip.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he said nothing, his face a frightening shade of ashen-gray.

The veins on his forehead bulged as if he were trying with all his might to suppress his inner turmoil.

The First Mate looked at the captain’s state, then glanced at the anxious crew members outside the cabin, and after a moment’s hesitation, asked softly.

"Captain, what do we do now? Did the boss give you any orders? Or should we head to shore immediately and organize a rescue party for Crown Territory?"

His voice was quiet, but it struck like a heavy hammer.

It shattered the dead silence in the wheelhouse and snapped Alvin out of his deep thoughts.

Alvin slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the pairs of expectant eyes outside.

The First Mate’s question was like a brilliant beam of light that instantly pierced through the fog, clearing his vision.

He remembered the final instruction in the boss’s text message: to begin the fishing operation immediately.

’But shouldn’t we be mounting a rescue right now? Why go fishing?’

This question expanded rapidly in Alvin’s mind, and his brow furrowed deeply.

He held out the phone.

Hoping the First Mate could decipher the boss’s deeper meaning from the text messages.

...