「September 24th, Monday.」
Far North Tundra Region: Temperature -2 degrees Celsius, light snow, south wind.
Feng Shan woke up early, reheated the leftover roasted reindeer loin from last night, and slurped it down with a pot of handmade noodles.
Stepping out of the bus, he found the sky a hazy gray. Light snowflakes drifted onto his face, cool and refreshing.
'In this weather, the plane probably won't be here too early.' Feng Shan opened the smokehouse. The fir leaves inside had burned out in the middle of the night. The reindeer meat and sausages had been smoked to a dark red color that looked incredibly appetizing.
He took down a reindeer sausage, placed it on a log, and sliced it thin with his small knife. He picked up a slice and popped it into his mouth.
The texture of the smoked reindeer sausage was unique. The moment he bit down, he could feel the slight toughness and elasticity of the casing, followed immediately by the firm, chewy reindeer meat.
The meat's texture was fine yet solid, releasing a rich, meaty aroma as he chewed.
As for the flavor, the rich smokiness was the first thing to hit his nose, carrying a faint scent of fir. This, combined with the balancing effect of thirteen-spice, chili, and Sichuan peppercorns, made the taste even more distinctive.
WOOF WOOF WOOF!!
Attracted by the smell, Prince ran over, pawing at his pant leg, a string of drool trailing from the corner of his mouth.
"Useless at everything, except for eating everything in sight," Feng Shan muttered. 'No matter how I look at him, this stupid dog is nothing like what Frank said about him being good at guarding the house and hunting. He's a master sock thief, though. Has to rummage through all my things to find socks every single morning.'
After tasting the smoked sausage, he took out the rest of the smoked reindeer meat and moved it, along with the air-dried smoked bear meat, bear sausages, and cured bear meat, into the workshop.
He didn't know how many days this trip to Fairbanks would take. With no one to watch the camp, leaving so much meat hanging outside would be a free buffet for the local wildlife.
The workshop his grand-uncle had built was very sturdy. It was made from logs twenty centimeters in diameter, enough to deal with predators like foxes and wolves. It might be a different story if a brown bear showed up, though.
Once the meat was moved into the workshop, Feng Shan picked up the Wanta Card again and started scraping the bits of meat and fat off the reindeer hide.
As he kept himself busy with fulfilling work, a buzzing sound came from the sky. Before long, Tom's second-hand plane appeared, circling above the camp.
Feng Shan waved at the plane.
But the plane wobbled in mid-air, dipping and rising erratically.
'Heh, drunk again.' Seeing the plane's flight pattern, Feng Shan's contempt for Tom deepened.
'With that kind of reckless bullshit, it's only a matter of time before he crashes.'
Just as Feng Shan finished his internal complaint...
The plane in his line of sight suddenly nosedived toward the ground. This wasn't showing off; this was a death wish.
Feng Shan jumped in fright, immediately dropping the Wanta Card and running toward the antler fence.
Just as the plane was about to crash, its nose was forcefully pulled up. It landed crookedly on the runway with a piercing screech before plowing headfirst into the tundra shrubs.
'This is bad!'
'There's been an accident!'
Feng Shan sprinted out of the camp and onto the runway. He leaned over the cockpit and saw through the glass that Tom's face was pale and covered in cold sweat, his hands gripping the control stick.
BANG BANG BANG!
"Tom, are you okay?" Feng Shan shouted, urgently banging on the cockpit window.
After a few more shouts, Tom seemed to snap out of his terror. Gritting his teeth against the piercing pain, he struggled to press the switch for the cockpit door.
With a CLICK, Feng Shan quickly pulled the door open and saw Tom's face contorted in agony.
"Feng, I... my hyperuricemia is acting up," Tom said, sucking in a sharp breath.
'Hyperuricemia?'
'Isn't that just gout?!'
Feng Shan froze for a moment before he understood.
Gout was also known as the "rich man's disease," something people got from long-term indulgence in rich food and alcohol. When it flared up, the pain was said to be unforgettable—like a wild beast tearing at you, like a knife slicing through flesh. Even a slight breeze could bring on a piercing ache.
Back when he ran a restaurant, he often saw customers with gout flare-ups limping around the tables, drinking and eating meat, only to limp off to the hospital with a casual air after their meal.
"Did you bring any medicine?"
"No." Large beads of cold sweat formed on Tom's forehead.
'This is a problem!'
The Crown Territory was in the middle of nowhere. The nearest settlement, Kevik Camp, was over 200 kilometers away. The only option was to get Tom back to the bus and call for help on the radio.
With that, Feng Shan grabbed Tom by the collar, dragged him right out of the cockpit, and hoisted him onto his shoulder to carry him back to camp.
"Oww, oww!"
HISS!
In the lounge chair, Tom's body was curled up, his face twisted in pain. He let out the occasional scream, a far cry from the high-spirited man who hunted brown bears.
Prince crouched by the chair, seemingly fascinated by Tom's cries.
Every time Tom let out a scream, Prince would mimic him.
The man and the dog went back and forth, one leading and the other echoing.
And to be fair, the imitation was pretty good.
"Feng, give me the gun! I'm gonna kill this stupid dog!" Tom ground out through his teeth. He couldn't believe his luck—even a dog was mocking him.
"Get out of here!" Feng Shan gave Prince a gentle kick, then switched on the radio. He put out a call on the public channel, and Anthony from Huisman Town replied that a courier plane happened to be passing by. It could divert to the Crown Territory, but it would cost 1,000 US dollars.
The next moment, Tom exploded with curses.
"A thousand US dollars?! Tell that damned vampire Lier to get lost! I'd rather die from the pain than pay that!"
"If he dares to show up, I'll shoot his plane down with my pistol, so help me God."
Since he'd gone that far, Feng Shan could only thank Anthony, turn off the radio, and look helplessly at Tom.
"So what now? You're not willing to pay, and it's not like I can fly you back to Fairbanks. I don't even have a driver's license."
Tom sucked air through his teeth, a pained but fawning expression on his face.
"How about... you take me back to Fairbanks on the sled?"
CLICK-CLACK!
Expressionless, Feng Shan picked up his rifle, racked the bolt, and aimed the dark muzzle at Tom.
'It's a straight-line distance of 1,000 kilometers from the Crown Territory to Fairbanks. You want me to pull you there on a sled? I might as well just shoot you right now.'
"Sorry, sorry, it was just a suggestion!!" Tom threw his hands up in terror, but the immense pain in his joints made him cry out again, "Oww!"
Feng Shan lowered the rifle. "I have a method that might treat gout, but this would be my first time trying it. I can't guarantee it'll work. Do you want to give it a shot?"
"Is it Mr. Feng's herbal medicine?" Tom's eyes lit up.
Feng Shan shook his head. "No, it's something else. Similar to the Shamanic Magic of the Inuit."
'Inuit Shamanism?'
Tom's face darkened. He asked nervously, "Does it involve some evil ritual? Like eating centipedes, bats, leeches, and animal organs? And flogging me with a whip, then roasting me over a bonfire?"
"No!" Feng Shan forced the single word out through his teeth.
Tom let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Then let's do it!"
"Wait here!"
Feng Shan stood up and walked out of the bus. When he returned, he was holding a strip of animal hide, as wide as his palm and as long as his forearm. He then brought two bowls from the kitchen—one filled with clean water, the other empty. He handed the empty bowl and a small knife to Tom.
"I'm short on materials. I'll need to borrow some of your blood."
...