Landlord in the Arctic-Chapter 45: Guests

Seeing the shocked look on Zhang Kai’s face, Feng Shan felt a touch of smug pride, but he put on a humble expression. "It’s nothing special. This land isn’t valuable. It’s all just wasteland—you can’t even grow decent vegetables on it."

"Brother, let’s not even talk about its value," Zhang Kai said, giving a thumbs-up. "An area this big would be top-tier back in China."

Nearly 2,000 square kilometers of private land.

Private land abroad and private land in China were two completely different things. The former belonged entirely to the individual, who held permanent usage rights. The latter was merely for use; true ownership was a different story.

ACHOO! ACHOO!

Crouching by the side of the runway, Liangliang suddenly let out a series of sneezes, snot running from his little nose.

"Tom, take Mr. Zhang and his family back to the camp. Remember to get the stove going so the kid doesn’t catch a cold." Feng Shan quickly called out to Tom, giving everyone a graceful way to defuse the awkwardness. He and Nash then started loading the supplies onto the sled.

"Brother Feng, don’t be such a stranger. Just call me Lao Kai. I’ll help you carry this." Zhang Kai handed the gifts he was holding to his wife and walked over to the sacks of rice. He grabbed one and tried to heave it onto his shoulder.

"Lao Kai, don’t!" Feng Shan shouted, trying to stop him.

A 25-kilogram sack of rice was no big deal on solid ground, but on the snow... trying to lift that much weight, he was sure to lose his footing and slip.

The words had barely left his mouth when they heard a yelp.

Zhang Kai spun around in place, still holding the 25-kilogram sack. Luckily, Nash was standing nearby and had quick reflexes. He shot out a hand and grabbed the sack, otherwise Zhang Kai would have been in for it—a pulled back muscle was practically guaranteed.

"The... the ground’s slippery," Zhang Kai explained hastily, his face flushing crimson as he caught the disdainful look from his wife.

Feng Shan nodded in understanding, though he was thinking, ’Just go already. Don’t stick around and make more trouble.’

"You all head to the camp first. Nash and I can handle the moving."

"I’ll carry something lighter, then." Unwilling to back down, and wanting to prove his competence to his wife, Zhang Kai picked up two cooking pots.

After watching the family of three leave, Feng Shan unzipped the collar of his down jacket. "Alright, Nash. Let’s get to work."

They loaded the supplies onto the sled one sack at a time, tied them down securely with ropes, and the two of them dragged it all back to camp.

By then, a fire was going in the stove under the wooden shelter, and Zhang Kai’s family was gathered around it, warming themselves.

They first moved the moisture-sensitive supplies like rice and seasonings into the workshop. The clothes and kitchenware were piled under the wooden shelter to be sorted out later when they had time.

Now Zhang Kai, his wife, and Tom could finally make themselves useful, helping to sort everything. Feng Shan and Nash unloaded the sled, then went back to the runway to haul the next load.

With everyone working together, their efficiency improved dramatically.

It took seven or eight trips back and forth to move all the supplies. By the end, the campsite was a chaotic mess of boxes and bags.

Feng Shan couldn’t do anything about it. The bus only had so much space, and there was simply no room to store everything inside.

"Brother, have you ever thought about building a proper house? This bus looks like it’s seen better days. A lot of spots have rusted straight through. Doesn’t the wind just pour in? Aren’t you cold?" Zhang Kai asked curiously, pointing to a rust hole on the side of the vehicle.

’I noticed that a long time ago.’

’The problem is, my great-uncle left me this bus.’

’I don’t plan on taking it apart. Building a house in the Far North Tundra is no easy task. Transportation, logging... they’re all major issues. It’s better to just make do. The worst that can happen is I waste a little more firewood.’

Feng Shan helplessly explained his predicament.

Zhang Kai thought for a moment, his eyes scanning the empty space in front of the camp. "I was in Barrow Town a few days ago, scouting tourist routes. I noticed a lot of the locals live in container homes. They’re well-insulated and easy to set up. You could give that a try."

’They have houses like that?’

Feng Shan turned to look at Tom. The other man was chewing on a piece of smoked bear jerky and replied matter-of-factly, "What are you looking at me for? Barrow has container homes for sale. You just never asked."

"You... Use the radio and contact Barrow for me. See if we can buy one."

"Yes, sir," Tom mumbled around a mouthful of jerky, giving a mock salute before getting up and heading into the bus to find some liquor.

Feng Shan was left speechless by the foreigner’s laid-back attitude. ’It’s like he’s never serious about anything; his whole philosophy is just to relax.’ He turned to Song Rou, picking up one of the rabbits he had hunted. "Song Rou, is rabbit okay for dinner tonight?"

"No problem at all! Let me help," Song Rou said, quickly getting to her feet.

"No need. Have Nash take you for a walk around the area. Crown Territory is a bit remote, but the scenery is quite nice," Feng Shan said, shaking his head. He didn’t like people meddling when he was cooking.

"Alright then. Thank you for your hard work."

Zhang Kai’s family of three followed Nash out of the camp.

Feng Shan carried the rabbit over to the edge of Gem Lake. He skinned it with a small knife, washed the meat, and tossed the innards directly into the lake for the fish. This would prevent the smell of blood from attracting predators to the camp.

’With guests tonight, six rabbits might not be enough. Nash and I could probably finish them off by ourselves.’

’I’ll need to prepare some other dishes too. Good thing I bought that pressure cooker.’

’I can make some red-braised venison, soy-stewed bear meat, pan-fry a whitefish, and finish it off with a dry-pot diced rabbit.’

’Perfect!’

...

The first batch of supplies consisted mostly of seasonings and kitchen utensils. Perhaps Tom had done it on purpose, but included in the shipment was the one thing Feng Shan prized most: a set of Wang Mazi Chinese kitchen knives.

There’s a common saying that a Chinese chef only needs one knife to conquer the world.

That’s just nonsense spouted by people who never set foot in a kitchen. There’s an old saying: "Why use an ox cleaver on a chicken?" You don’t use the same knife for different kinds of poultry and livestock, so how could one knife possibly be enough to prepare all ingredients?

The world of Chinese kitchen knives is arguably the most diverse.

Common types include bone cleavers, slicing cleavers, thin slicers, and Jiujiang-style knives. Then there are specialized blades for butchering pork, carving roast meats, slicing skin for Peking duck, or even patting skin to make it crispy.

A meticulous chef could fill an entire wall with just their knives. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The idea of a single, practical, multi-purpose knife is for the average household. That’s how the "Wenwu Dao"—the civil-and-military cleaver, which can slice, chop, smash garlic, and break bones—became the ruler of the traditional home kitchen.

The set Feng Shan bought included a slicer, a bone cleaver, a Wenwu Dao, a boning knife, and a scoring knife. Each blade was adorned with a Damascus pattern, and the full-tang rosewood handles felt perfect in his hand.

Yet the price for the set was unbelievably cheap—less than 3,000 US dollars. At the time, the salesman had explained that the custom set was hand-forged by a master bladesmith. Unfortunately, the Western chefs in Alaska didn’t know how to use them, finding them too heavy and unwieldy.

’They have eyes, but they can’t see true quality. What do they know about the culinary arts?’

’When my ancestors were creating masterpieces in the kitchen, theirs were still boiling bird eggs.’

Back in China, a set of knives this good would have been astronomically expensive. Feng Shan figured the price would probably be no less than the settlement he’d received for that "excessive self-defense" incident. He was lucky to have stumbled upon such a bargain.

Feng Shan drew the Wenwu Dao and made a few practice chops and slices in the air. The blade moved fluidly, the center of gravity was perfect. With each downward stroke, the knife’s own weight did half the work, saving the chef’s energy.

A good chef deserves a good knife, and a good knife deserves a good chef.

Time to light the fire and cook!

’Tonight, I’m going to show these foreigners—who only know how to eat hamburgers, fries, and steak—what real Chinese food tastes like.’

...