Celestial Food Stall: I Set Up a Food Stall in Heaven

Before closing up shop that night, I turned the menu over and added a line of text on the back.

"Reinstated to Original Position - Glass Cup". Three servings daily. Available only when needed.

The news spread faster than the wind at Nantianmen.

"Anti-Ancient Cuisine" has launched a new dish called "Reinstated Official - Glass Cup". People who have tried it have all different expressions.

Some remained silent, some sighed, and some frowned when they tasted the bitter filling, yet remained speechless for a long time when they tasted the fake gold leaf.

Some people would put down their chopsticks after finishing their meal, get up and leave, only to realize they hadn't paid when they were quite a distance away. They would then turn back, their eyes red with tears.

More and more people started talking about the dish and the person on the notice.

Some people dug up the story of the Curtain-Rolling General from 500 years ago, some brought up relevant articles from the Heavenly Laws, and others mentioned those unfortunate souls who were also demoted by imperial edict in those years.

One person was punished by being made to guard the Heavenly Toilet for sneezing during court, and another was demoted three ranks for writing the Jade Emperor's title incorrectly in a memorial to the throne.

There's another one who still doesn't know why he was demoted; he only knows that the Jade Emperor was in a bad mood that day.

The public opinion outside Nantianmen never erupts into heated debate, but it never disappears either.

It just grew in a different way—from "Do you know that General Rolling Curtain is demanding back pay?" to "Do you know that the Heavenly Court did something dishonest back then?"

Then it grows into "When will the Heavenly Court give people an explanation?"

Instead of receiving a proper explanation, Venus (the planet of Venus) made a second visit.

This time, he didn't bring any wine, only a pot of tea. He sat down at my stall, not looking at Sha Wujing, but first looking at the new menu on the wall.

"Reinstated to his original position—Liuli Zhan." He read the five characters aloud, smiled, and said, "Boss Chang, this name is quite interesting."

"Would you like to try it, old immortal?"

Venus did not refuse. I brought out the jade plate and, in front of him, gently tapped the plate on the cutting board.

A crack appeared on the glass cup. Under the watchful gaze of Venus, the crack slowly extended, like a dried-up riverbed waiting for rain.

Venus stared at the crack, then looked at me. The smile on his face slowly faded, like rolling up a painting.

  

"I only chipped this dish once." I picked up a rag to wipe my hands. "Old Immortal Taibai, you are so knowledgeable, could you please take a look—how exactly did this glass cup break?"

Venus remained silent for a long time. So long that the water on the stove boiled and then cooled, so long that the sea of ​​clouds outside the Southern Heavenly Gate rolled three times over.

He's a smart man; smart men don't need to spell things out. He knew I wasn't handing him a dish, but a problem.

Everyone present knew the answer to this question, but no one dared to say it aloud.

He put down his teacup and stood up. As he left, he glanced at Sha Wujing. "Let's wait for news."

The Heavenly Court's attitude softened.

I heard about what happened later from other people.

After Venus returned, someone searched the depths of the Immortal Register Office's storeroom for three whole days.

Finally, an old clerk who had been sitting on the sidelines for a thousand years accidentally unearthed a stack of disposal opinions that had not been filed back then from under a pile of moldy old official documents.

The official document records the follow-up handling of the Peach Banquet incident five hundred years ago. One of the provisions is: "The General Who Rolled Up the Curtain accidentally broke a cup. According to the Heavenly Law, he should be fined three months' salary. However, His Majesty is furious and will punish him severely. Other officials shall not discuss this matter further."

He was fined three months' salary.

Sha Wujing was banished to the Flowing Sand River for five hundred years, and the punishment stipulated by the Heavenly Laws was a fine of three months' wages. Three months. Ninety days. Not even a season.

The archivist's signature was eaten away by insects, but there was a line of small print next to it, which seemed to have been left by the archivist back then: This person has been demoted, and this file has not been returned.

When the old clerk later told others about this, he only said one sentence.

"I've been in the Celestial Register Office for a thousand years, and this is the first time someone has come to investigate accounts from five hundred years ago. He came three times, and I remember each time. The third time he left, I was organizing old files at the end of the corridor. He glanced at me, and I glanced at him. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything either. But after he left, I started going through those old boxes that no one had touched."

The old official document was sent to the Lingxiao Palace.

No one knows what the Jade Emperor's expression was after seeing it; all that is known is that that afternoon, Venus came to the South Heavenly Gate for the third time.

He brought neither wine nor tea. He brought a draft "Statement of Circumstances".

The Heavenly Court is willing to re-examine Sha Wujing's old case, admitting that "the handling was swift and not thoroughly investigated"—not an admission of wrongdoing, but simply an admission that "it was handled a bit hastily."

The portion of the salary paid during the Liushahe period was reimbursed under the name of "Special Resettlement Allowance".

As for official positions, the Golden Arhats are already part of the Lingshan system and it is inconvenient to change them, but the honorary title of "Honorary Curtain-Rolling General" is posthumously recognized.

Sha Wujing read the "Explanation of the Situation" three times.

The first time I looked at the words, the second time I looked at the spaces between the words. The third time I didn't look at anything, I just held the paper, my fingers tracing its edges, as if weighing it.

Then he looked up at me. "Is this the best possible outcome?"

I shook my head: "No. But in Heaven, this is the best outcome you can get."

Sha Wujing remained silent for a long time. The sea of ​​clouds at the South Heavenly Gate surged, and the setting sun dyed the clouds golden-red, the same color as the cassock he wore.

The color stained his body like a label that could never be washed away.

Should I sign it?

"Whether you sign or not is up to you. But regardless of whether you sign or not—" I pointed to the wrinkled notice in front of the stall, the corner of the paper fluttering in the wind.

"You made all the gods who passed by see one thing."

"What is it?"

"Those who owe money also feel guilty."

Sha Wujing sat in front of the stall for a long time.

The setting sun stretched his shadow long, from the bench all the way to the threshold of the South Heavenly Gate, like a road that had been traveled for five hundred years and had finally come to an end.

He picked up his pen and signed the "Explanation of Circumstances." The moment the pen touched the paper, the evening bell at Nantianmen rang.

On the day Sha Wujing left, he came to my stall again and ate a bowl of vegetarian noodles.

This time, he didn't count the noodles. After finishing, he took the crumpled complaint out of his pocket, folded it neatly, and put it away.

The words on the complaint were already somewhat blurred, and the sweat stains and repeated folds made it look older than a five-hundred-year-old file. But he didn't throw it away.

"Boss Chang, tell me, is this fair?"

I turned the meat on the grill without looking up.

"I don't know what justice is. I only know that the Heavenly Court owes a debt of five hundred years, and for the first time, someone has stood up to demand it, and even managed to get some of it."

Sha Wujing remained silent for a while, then stood up, clasped his hands together, and bowed slightly.

The hem of his robe slipped across the cutting board, leaving a drop of oil on it, but he didn't brush it off.

He turned and walked towards the South Heavenly Gate, his golden Arhat robe gleaming in the setting sun.

Unlike when he arrived, he no longer walks with his chest hunched.

The wind at the South Heavenly Gate billowed his cassock, and the golden robe finally no longer resembled a shackle, but rather a garment.

After walking a few steps, he stopped again and looked back at the menu on the wall in front of my stall.

"Will you make that dish again in the future?"

"I'll stop doing it when you no longer need it."

"Then when won't I need it?"

I added a piece of firewood to the stove, and the flames leaped up, burning a bright opening in the twilight of Nantianmen.

"When the Heavenly Court has no debts to anyone."

I laughed at myself. I know that day will never come.

But as long as someone remembers this debt, the fire outside the South Heavenly Gate will never go out.

Sha Wujing left. The notice that was posted on the pillar in front of the stall was quietly torn down by someone, leaving only mottled paper marks and a corner of undried paste.

I got up, took out my worn-out pen for bookkeeping, and walked to the wall.

I didn't erase the line on the menu that read "Reinstated Official - Glass Cup," but I added four small words after it: Sold Out, To Be Restocked.

As for when it will be repaired, I don't know.

Perhaps when the next demoted person passes by the South Heavenly Gate, or perhaps when the next old official document buried at the bottom of the warehouse sees the light of day again.

I put the pen back on the cutting board, picked up the rag, and continued wiping the stove.

Outside the South Heavenly Gate, the immortals still come and go in a bustling crowd.

Some people stopped to look at the new line on the menu, some hurried past, and some glanced at the empty bench in front of the stall from afar.

An old clerk sitting in the corner silently finished his bowl of vegetarian noodles, put down his chopsticks, and got up to leave.

I watched his slightly hunched back disappear into the depths of the sea of ​​clouds, without saying a word.

I draped the rag over my shoulder and sat down.

The firelight illuminated the archway of Nantianmen, casting the four characters—"Fan Gu Qi Shan" (反古奇膳)—in a flickering light. "Fan" means rebellious, "Gu" means ancient and modern, "Qi" means strange, and "Shan" means food.

Outside the South Heavenly Gate, I continued grilling meat.