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

I haven't been to the Moon Palace many times.

It's not that the road is far, it's just that it's too deserted.

The entire palace seemed to be marinated in the cool fragrance of laurel; the longer you smelled it, the coolness seeped into your bones, making it unsuitable for someone like me who deals with fireworks all day long.

Wu Gang led the way, his steps hurried and heavy, each step seeming to leave a dent in the cloud bricks.

The jade rabbit nestled on his shoulder, its tiny paws gripping the edge of his collar, glancing back at me every now and then.

The look in my eyes was a mixture of expectation and fear, as if I were its last lifeline, or as if I might change my mind and run away at any moment.

Before even stepping into that desolate place, a series of low, powerful humming sounds came from afar, like the earth snoring.

Looking around, one can see an enormous, glossy black Tibetan pig frolicking under the osmanthus tree, its round body swaying.

The pig was bigger than I expected, weighing at least 200 jin (100 kg).

Its body was covered in short, shiny black fur, which gleamed with an oily sheen under the moonlight.

Its huge mouth rolled along the ground like a bulldozer.

The thick layer of golden fallen flowers on the ground was crushed to a pulp, and the petals mixed with the soil were turned up, revealing the dark brown soil underneath. From a distance, it looked as if someone had plowed it.

Every now and then, it would use its thick fangs to nudge the roots of the ancient laurel tree. Each impact made the whole tree tremble, and the petals would fall down like a golden rain.

That laurel tree is a spiritual tree. Wu Gang tried to chop it down for millions of years but couldn't, and this pig, on the other hand, uses it as a chew toy.

The jade rabbit squeaked, a sharp, thin sound filled with pure fear, forced out from its throat.

It darted back into Wu Gang's arms, burying its face in his chest, not daring to show even a single rabbit hair.

"You beast! Take this!"

Wu Gang placed the jade rabbit on a clean stone block beside him, rolled up his sleeves to reveal two arms that had been tempered by the spiritual energy of the cassia tree and were as hard as cast iron.

The veins on his arms bulged, and the muscle lines looked as if they had been cleaved by a knife and axe, clearly the result of millions of years of axe swings.

He strode towards the fat pig, each step making a dull thud on the ground.

The way it lunged forward carried a sharpness honed by an axe.

But the fat pig was robust and strong, with thick skin and flesh, its fat rippling in waves as it moved. Its strength was astonishing, and its reaction speed was completely unlike that of a creature of this size.

Wu had just dodged a powerful frontal charge from a pig and hadn't even had time to adjust his center of gravity when the fat pig twisted its rear end, pushed off the ground with its hind legs, and rammed sideways into him like a 200-pound bowling ball.

The collision was fast, at a tricky angle, and with tremendous force.

  

Wu Gang reached out to grab the pig's ear, but just as his fingers touched the slippery edge, his foot was swept away by the pig's tail. The tail was short and thick, and when it swung, it was no less powerful than a whip.

Wu Gang's ankle twisted, and he lost his balance, falling face down into the mud pit next to the osmanthus tree, which had just been dug out by pigs the day before, splashing up a cloud of mud and water.

"Pfft—Ha!"

He lifted his head out of the mud pit, spat out a mouthful of mud, and had a few golden osmanthus petals and a black mud stain on his face.

Water droplets dripped down his chin, and his expression was hard to describe as either anger or despair, perhaps both, mixed with a hint of disbelief that "I can't believe a pig could do this to me."

I stood to the side, hands behind my back, and pulled a handful of sunflower seeds from my pocket, cracking them open with a "crunch".

The Jade Rabbit was jumping around anxiously on the stone block, its two little paws clenched into fists and waving wildly in the air, making "ee-yah-yah" noises, it was hard to tell whether it was cheering for Wu Gang or cursing that pig.

Wu Gang pounced on him again.

This time, I learned my lesson and tried to flank the pig from the side. I bent over and circled the osmanthus tree for most of the way, trying to sneak past it from the pig's blind spot.

I spoke up to give instructions at the right time. My voice wasn't loud, but every word was precisely delivered to his ears through the pig's squeals and the sound of the wind.

"To the left, behind that tree on the left, block its lower body. Yes, flank it from behind, pigs have a large turning radius. Don't pull its ears, those things are slippery like they're greased, pull its tail! The base of the tail has joints, easy to grab!"

The Jade Rabbit, having recovered its strength, hopped and skipped around on its little feet, cheering loudly in a high-pitched voice: "Bite it! Brother Wu Gang, bite it! Bite its butt!"

Wu Gang certainly didn't bite the pig's butt.

He exerted tremendous effort, using the strength he had gained from chopping down the cassia tree, the strength he had gained from carrying the cassia tree, and the patience he had cultivated over millions of years of hardship in the Moon Palace, and finally found the right opportunity to pounce on him from behind.

He leaped into the air, like a black lightning bolt striking the pig's back.

He clamped his legs tightly around the pig's belly, wrapped his arms around the pig's neck, and clung to the pig like an octopus.

The pig was pressed down and let out a deafening squeal. Its four hooves frantically pawed at the muddy ground, spinning around seven or eight times, ruining the surrounding flowers and plants in a mess, before the force finally weakened a bit.

Wu Gang's face was covered in mud mixed with sweat, and he was panting heavily, his chest heaving as if it were about to explode.

His hair stood on end in a mess, covered with broken osmanthus petals and mud. His undershirt had been kicked several times by the pig's hooves during the fight, and the mud stains mixed with sweat made it even dirtier than when he arrived, adding to his wilder look.

"Alright, stop resting, let's get this over with before it recovers."

I walked over, squatted down, and glanced at the fat pig.

It was pinned to the ground by Wu Gang, panting heavily, its belly heaving like a bellows, its small eyes filled with stubbornness and resentment. Its black pupils darted around, clearly indicating that it hadn't given up the idea of ​​resisting.

The four hooves continued to paw and kick, creating four deep furrows in the ground, and the soil rolled up, revealing the pale white roots of the osmanthus tree underneath.

I stood up and patted Wu Gang's sweaty back. My palm was immediately covered with a sticky liquid mixed with osmanthus petals, the touch warm and rough, like a handful of time that I could feel.

I pointed to his tattered undershirt: "Take it off."

Wu Gang was taken aback. He looked down at his dirty clothes that exuded a strong masculine odor, then looked up at me, his eyes filled with confusion.

He kept his hand firmly on the pig's neck, afraid that if he let go, the beast would spring back to life and jump around again.

He used the back of his other hand to wipe the mud off his face, spreading it more evenly and drawing a dark gray arc from his forehead to his chin.

"Why are you taking this off? It's smelly and dirty. If you need a rag, I'll find you some clean ones later..."

Jade Rabbit, pinching her nose, mumbled, "Yeah, Boss Chang, these clothes are rotten! Couldn't you have made him get some clean ones?"

Wu Gang's hand paused slightly. He didn't look at the Jade Rabbit, nor did he refute it; he simply tightened his grip on the pig's neck in silence.

"This garment has absorbed your sweat for millions of years."

I looked him in the eyes, dropped my previous spectator's expression, and spoke in a calm and steady voice, each word delivered with conviction.

"Now let it carry this pig for you. Make the best use of everything, and the law of cause and effect will prevail."

Wu Gang remained silent for a while. He didn't ask what the question meant.

Perhaps he understood, or perhaps he didn't care whether he understood or not, he was just used to not asking too many questions.

People who have stayed in the Moon Palace for a long time are like this: a tree can be cut down over tens of millions of years, and a single sentence can wait tens of millions of years before it is spoken.

He freed one hand and took off the undershirt.

The movements were slow, and the coarse cloth fibers made a slight rubbing sound as they slipped off his shoulders, as if tearing off a layer of something that had coexisted with him for too long.

When he handed it to me, his fingers loosened slightly, his palm facing upwards, as if he were handing over a suit of armor that he had worn for too long.

I took the T-shirt.

The fabric still carried his body heat and the dampness of his sweat; it was heavy and radiated warmth in my hands.

The scent, a blend of sweat, osmanthus, and resin, became even stronger the closer you got, as if millions of years of time had been compressed into a tangible aroma.

I first put the T-shirt into a basin of clean water and gently rubbed it with my hands. The sweat, osmanthus petals, and resin powder on the fabric gradually seeped out from the coarse fibers and dissolved into the water, turning the water a pale gold color.

The strong smell of sweat, once soaked in water, actually became mellow and less pungent, leaving only the subtle fragrance of osmanthus.

I took the undershirt out and wrung it dry. That clean undershirt, which no longer smelled much, was used to wrap the pig. As for the basin of pale golden water, I kept it; it would be the "osmanthus sweat broth" to be poured over the mud later.

I squatted down and wrapped the fat pig, which Wu Gang was holding down tightly and which was still struggling, from head to toe completely with my undershirt.

The moment the fabric touched the pigskin, the pig miraculously became quiet for a moment.

In an instant, a low, muffled groan escaped from his nose, as if he had been stunned by something, or as if he had been so overwhelmed by the strong smell that he forgot to resist.

"Go, dig in the mud."

I gestured with my chin toward Wu Gang, pointing to the ground beneath the laurel tree roots, which was covered with fallen laurel petals.

Without wasting a word, Wu Gang picked up his axe and walked to the tree roots, quickly digging out a pile of the unique laurel yellow mud from the Moon Palace.

The mud, nourished by the fallen petals of osmanthus flowers over millions of years, has a delicate, creamy texture and a golden-yellow color with a hint of moon white, carrying a refreshing, subtle fragrance of osmanthus.

He brought the mud back and, as I instructed, added water to make a paste.

Those hands, accustomed to wielding an axe, were surprisingly skillful at mixing mud; the mud paste was neither too thin nor too thick, just right to cling to.

I instructed him to wrap the mud thickly, layer by layer, over his undershirt, patting and smoothing each layer with his palm.

Until the surface of the mud ball became smooth as a mirror, turning into a round, golden sphere that gleamed with a warm luster under the moonlight.

Wu Gang set up a fire under the cassia tree.

He used laurel branches that he usually cut down.

The osmanthus branch looked withered, but when lit, it emitted a faint, cool fragrance.

The flames were not the usual orange-red, but rather had a thin layer of silvery-blue, similar to the color of moonlight.

The moment the fire was set up and the mud ball was placed on it, the flames licked the bottom of the mud shell, making a very faint "hissing" sound.

That was the sound of the sweat remaining on the undershirt being forced out by the high temperature, turning into steam and passing through the cracks in the mud shell. It was sharp and long, like a sigh, or a whistle.

The sound wasn't loud, but in the eternally quiet realm of the Moon Palace, it could be heard exceptionally clearly.

I brought over the bowl of pale golden "osmanthus broth," scooped up a handful with my palm, and poured it evenly over the mud shell.

The water, upon touching the scalding mud, hissed and turned into white steam. The cool fragrance of osmanthus and the salty taste of sweat, forced together by the high temperature, created an indescribable odor. It was neither fragrant nor foul.

It's wild, like someone lit a bunch of earthly bonfires in the moon palace.

The jade rabbit jumped down from the stone pier, tiptoed a few steps closer, and stared intently at the fire with its red eyes.

Wu Gang squatted to one side, shirtless, with his arms draped over his knees. The firelight reflected on his angular face, making the lines etched by time flicker in and out of focus.

The fire burned brighter and brighter, the silvery-blue flames enveloping the mud ball.

The withered laurel branches crackled softly in the fire, the sound mingling with the occasional muffled thuds emanating from the mud shell, like a melody that only the Moon Palace could understand.

I didn't say anything more, and stood by the fire with my hands behind my back, feeling the warmth emanating from it.

The Moon Palace is too cold, it has been cold for tens of thousands of years. This fire is probably the first fire with smoke and warmth to be lit here.