Outside, snow filled the sky, fluttering down. The snow was already nearly half a meter deep, turning the smokehouse into a snowdrift.
Feng Mountain stood at the door in a daze, completely stunned by the massive snowfall before him.
As a native of Hai City, he had seen his fair share of typhoons, but this was his first time ever seeing it snow. The sight of the fluttering snow made Feng Mountain feel both excited and nervous.
Filled with excitement, he stepped into the deep snow. Every step felt like sinking into a quagmire, yet he couldn't help but press forward and explore.
It was fun, but it was also seriously cold.
In just that short time, a layer of snow had already covered his leather coat. Thankfully, he had his hood up to protect him; otherwise, his ears would have surely been frostbitten.
Wading through the snow, he reached the wooden shed behind the bus.
Under the shed's eaves, where a long string of smoked fish, dried fish, and dried Thunderbirds had once hung, only a few scattered ones remained. Even the ones that were left had been bitten here and there by some animal, mangled beyond recognition.
The snow was littered with footprints and scraps of fish.
Feng Mountain crouched and used his hand to gauge the size of a footprint.
Clearly, the uninvited guest was massive. Each print was much larger than his own palm, its outline sharp and sunk deep into the snow.
They were likely left by a bear, a very large one. He just couldn't tell if it was a brown bear or a black bear.
He followed the direction of the tracks with his eyes, watching them wind through the white snow and disappear beyond the antler fence.
Heh!
'Treating my place like a buffet, coming and going as it pleases.'
Flicking the safety off his rifle, Feng Mountain slung the gun over his back and returned to the bus. He went inside and shook the snow from his leather coat.
"So? What kind of animal?" Frank asked anxiously.
Feng Mountain made a gesture to show the size of the print. "Probably a bear. The tracks are big and deep—larger than my hand."
"That's a brown bear, then. This snow came on suddenly, so it's still looking for food before winter. Man, you need to be careful," Frank said, his expression grim.
"That can't be right. Aren't bears supposed to hibernate when it snows?" Feng Mountain asked, confused.
Frank sighed and began the lesson.
"Who told you bears start hibernating in September? Here in Alaska, brown bears don't start hibernating until December, and they're not out again until February. Based on your description of the tracks, it's probably a male Alaskan brown bear."
"My bad," Feng Mountain said with an innocent shrug. "How was I supposed to know it snows in Alaska in September? I thought winter was here." He still hadn't shaken his old sense of seasons from back home.
"Let me correct you there—it's *our* Alaska. And pal, you've got a problem. Now that the brown bear has found food here, it's going to keep coming back to the camp."
Frank didn't seem to mind Feng Mountain's slip of the tongue; he was far more worried about the brown bear's appearance.
In Alaska, brown bears are the most dangerous animals. They're also the largest in North America, if not the world, with weights reaching up to 1,000 pounds. News reports about brown bear attacks on humans are a common occurrence.
Back in 2003, there was a particularly infamous incident where a couple, both brown bear enthusiasts, were eaten alive by a hungry bear. A camcorder recorded their final moments, creating a horrifying audio track that caused a huge sensation across Alaska at the time.
Feng Mountain gave the 98K in his hand a little shake and chuckled. "A problem? No. I should be thanking God for delivering my winter rations."
"You're going to hunt a bear?" Frank raised an eyebrow.
"Hunt a bear? Who's hunting a bear?" Tom, who had been fast asleep by the stove, wriggled out of his sleeping bag, looking thrilled.
"Is there a problem? Are brown bears a protected species in Alaska?" Having been dropped into this godforsaken Far North Tundra by Frank right after arriving, Feng Mountain had no idea about Alaska's hunting regulations. Back home, at least, bears were a protected species; mess with one and you'd be doing serious time.
Frank immediately shook his head. "This is your land. If a predator trespasses, you have the right to either fight back or retreat."
'Is that even a question? I'm fighting back, obviously!'
'A brown bear is a treasure trove from head to toe. The pelt can be made into blankets or a coat, the fat can be used for frostbite salve, the meat can be turned into jerky, and then there's the Bear Whip, which is also a delicacy…'
Feng Mountain decided he would hunt the brown bear first thing in the morning. Announcing he was off to bed, he turned and walked into his bedroom.
...
「The next day.」
Before dawn, Feng Mountain was already up, clattering around in the kitchen. The fragrant aroma wafting out was enough to lure Frank and Tom from their sleeping bags.
"Feng, if I were a woman, I'd definitely fall in love with you." Tom, his eyes heavy with sleep, rubbed his face and was about to continue when Frank gave him a gentle nudge.
Tom was about to curse, but then he saw Frank winking and jutting his chin toward the kitchen. He realized he might have said the wrong thing and immediately clamped his mouth shut.
"The brown bear left me half a whitefish last night, so I used it to make some fish congee. I've also got some eight-treasure pickles. Hope you guys like it."
Feng Mountain, pretending he hadn't heard Tom, came out of the kitchen with the pot and called them over for breakfast.
"I'm not picky." Tom stretched his neck to look into the pot.
A creamy sheen floated on the surface of the congee. The rice grains were cooked to a glistening translucence, with tender chunks of white fish peeking through, giving off a rich aroma.
GULP!
Tom audibly gulped, not even trying to hide it. Frank, standing beside him and feigning composure, couldn't help but lick his lips.
"Dinner is served." Feng Mountain shook his head with a smile, handing them each a bowl. He then ladled two large scoops into the food bowls for Coca-Cola and Prince.
SLURP SLURP SLURP!
The sound of pigs eating at a trough rang out once more.
...
After they finished breakfast, it was already nine o'clock. Sunlight streamed through the window. To this day, Feng Mountain still couldn't make heads or tails of Alaska's weather.
Just yesterday there was a blizzard, and today the sun was shining brightly.
"Are you guys leaving today?"
'Leave?'
Frank and Tom exchanged a furtive glance and shook their heads firmly.
"Pal, the runway's buried under snow. The plane can't take off," Frank said. "Looks like we'll have to stay here for a few days."
"That's right," Tom added. "Trying to fly in these low temperatures could blow the engine. We can only take off once things warm up."
'Is that so?'
Listening to their plausible-sounding explanation, Feng Mountain felt like they were just making up excuses to hang around the camp and freeload.
However, the low temperatures outside were a real issue. When he'd gone out at dawn, the snow had been half a meter deep, and the thermometer on the bus door read negative three degrees.
"Then come with me to find that fish-stealing brown bear," Feng Mountain offered, his tone polite.
Frank and Tom immediately started nodding like chickens pecking at grain.
"But I only have one rifle," Feng Mountain said, looking troubled. After all, hunting a bear wasn't like shooting Thunderbirds. It would be extremely dangerous if the bear got close and they didn't have weapons to defend themselves.
"We brought guns!" Tom grinned, lifted his shirt, and revealed a pistol at his waist.
Frank did the same, unzipping his thick winter coat to reveal a concealed holster.
"Man, Alaska has concealed carry," Frank said. "When you get a chance, we should take a trip to Fairbanks. I'll help you buy a handgun. You can't be lugging that 98k everywhere you go."
'This country is really something else,' Feng Mountain thought. 'No wonder they love making action movies.'
To say Feng Mountain wasn't envious would be a lie. Ever since getting his hands on that rifle, his interest in firearms had only grown.
"Let's move out."
...