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

The initial aroma wasn't of meat; it was a bitter and pungent smell of smoke.

The smoke was hazy, not thick, but it stung the eyes. It seeped out from the cracks in the mud, carrying the smell of sweat, the burnt smell of cinnamon chips, and something else indescribable. It was like someone burning an old piece of clothing, a piece of clothing stained with too many years of sweat, too many years of silence, too many mornings spent glancing at the cinnamon tree from afar before turning back to continue cutting down trees.

Wu Gang squatted by the fire, fanning it, and coughed from the smoke. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, but his eyes were still red from the smoke.

"This smoke is like tear gas," he cursed, rubbing his eyes hard with his sleeve.

As he rubbed, his movements slowed down. He stared at the plume of smoke for a few seconds, then, as if suddenly realizing something, his fingers clenched his sleeve.

He knows better than I do what's hidden in this smoke.

The Jade Rabbit squatted to one side, her nose twitching constantly, her eyes fixed on the mud balls in the fire, drool almost dripping onto the ground. She showed no sign of fear whatsoever, muttering, "So fragrant... no, so pungent... no, still so fragrant..."

The bitter smoke drifted into the inner hall of the Guanghan Palace along with the through-draft.

Chang'e was choked out.

She stood on the veranda, dressed in pristine white, her brows slightly furrowed, her gaze sweeping across the courtyard to the bonfire. The smoke swirled right in front of her, perfectly aligned, as if it possessed a spirit, hovering around her for a moment before dissipating.

"What are you burning? It's so pungent." Her voice was calm, not like she was asking a question, but more like stating a fact.

Wu Gang was startled by the sound. The fan in his hand fell into the fire, and he frantically tried to retrieve it, his fingertips licking the flames before he pulled back. He dared not look up, but his ears turned red. The undershirt was no longer on him, yet he was even more flustered than when he was wearing it.

Just as Jade Rabbit was about to speak, I didn't turn my head and continued to stir the fire: "Burn an old piece of clothing. Once it's burned, the fumes won't be so strong."

Chang'e did not ask any further questions.

She simply stood there, between the shadows of the corridor and the firelight in the courtyard. The bitter smoke was still billowing out, filling the entire courtyard.

But she didn't leave.

Because beneath that bitter smoke lay a faint wisp of osmanthus fragrance. Not the fresh osmanthus blossoms from the tree, but the scent of blossoms that had fallen long ago, been crushed into the soil, and then dried by the sun. Stale, old, somber, and unassuming.

There is only one cassia tree in the Guanghan Palace, and for tens of thousands of years, this cassia tree has only shed two kinds of things: petals and gold dust.

She had lived in the palace for so many years and was very familiar with osmanthus flowers. But she had never smelled osmanthus in incense smoke. Smoke is for burning things; what could possibly smell like osmanthus when burned?

She didn't ask. She just stood there for a moment, then turned and left.

  

Wu Gang squatted by the fire, not daring to look up at her. The tears he had shed from the smoke were still wet, mixed with the mud stains on his face, making it impossible to tell which were from the smoke and which from holding his breath.

"She smelled it," I said.

"I could only smell smoke," Wu Gang said with a wry smile.

That's enough.

The clay shell dries and cracks, and the aroma gradually intensifies.

I picked up a stick and cracked the hard outer shell. With a "crack," chunks of mud fell off. The weathered undershirt, wrapped around the charred yellow pigskin, was revealed, and the aroma of meat exploded instantly, forcefully filling everyone's nostrils.

I lifted my undershirt. The outer skin was crispy, tender, and juicy, while the meat inside was still bubbling.

The Jade Rabbit was the first to approach, its little paws gripping the edge of the table, its red eyes wide open. Wu Gang remained squatting in the same spot, shirtless, his arms draped over his knees, watching the charred fragments of his undershirt peel off the mud, without saying a word.

When Chang'e was brought out again, she hesitated for a moment while standing by the table.

She picked up a small piece with her jade chopsticks and put it in her mouth, chewing it very slowly.

"This meat...has the lingering sweetness of aged osmanthus wine."

She neither said it was delicious nor bad. She simply paused, then asked a question that silenced everyone present: "Was that smoke from earlier also this smell?"

No one answered her.

Chang'e paused for a second while wiping her hands. Just for a second. She unconsciously clenched the silk handkerchief in her hand, her knuckles turning slightly white, then released it as quickly as if nothing had happened.

The Jade Rabbit buried its head in Wu Gang's arms. Wu Gang looked down at his hands, the hands that had held an axe for thousands of years now resting empty on his knees, with indelible mud stains between his fingers.

Chang'e put down her chopsticks. She didn't ask any further questions, but before turning to go back to the inner palace, she paused. With her back to everyone, she said one sentence.

"Next time you want to smoke, let me know in advance."

Her voice was calm, just as it had been when she arrived. But she said "next time," not "don't."

Wu Gang's shoulders trembled slightly. No one saw it, except me.

When Marshal Tianpeng arrived, Chang'e was gracefully getting up.

He was carrying a basket of freshly picked peaches when he landed at the gate of the courtyard. He immediately spotted the pile of gnawed pig bones next to the fire. He froze on the spot, his pig-like face twitching, his lips moving for a long time without uttering a single word.

"Marshal Tianpeng," Chang'e stood up, her tone as calm as if she were simply remarking on the beautiful moonlight, "the Tibetan pig you sent is absolutely delicious. Perhaps you could send a couple more each month from now on."

Tianpeng's lips twitched. Not just his lips, his whole face twitched. His Adam's apple bobbed, and something was swallowed back down.

Then he cupped his hands, bowed, his voice trembling but his tone steady: "If the fairy is pleased, that's good. I will deliver it on time next month."

As he bent over, an old jade pendant hanging from his waist struck the stone steps with a crisp, subtle "ding," as if something had cracked. That jade pendant was a gift from Chang'e when he was still Marshal Tianpeng, and he had worn it for countless years.

Tianpeng didn't look at the jade pendant. He simply maintained his bowed posture until Chang'e's figure disappeared at the end of the corridor. He still carried the basket of peaches in his hands, the handle damp with dew from the cloud path. He had carried it all this way, and now he didn't know where to put the basket of peaches.

As he straightened up, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The angle of that smile was strange—he wasn't smiling, but he wanted others to think he was.

Then he rode away on a cloud. Only a string of wet footprints and a crushed osmanthus petal remained at the courtyard gate.

The crowd dispersed. Chang'e returned to her inner palace, Tianpeng rode away on a cloud, and the Jade Rabbit hopped off to clean up the mortar and pestle that had been knocked over by the pig.

Wu Gang was the only one left in the courtyard.

He squatted by the fire, poking at the pile of charred mud shells with a twig. His undershirt was burned away, leaving only a few charred fragments clinging to the inside of the mud shell. He picked out the fragments one by one with the twig, examining them for a long time in his palm.

He suddenly said something without looking up, as if he were saying to himself, "I've worn this garment for as many years as I've chopped down cassia trees."

He paused, then added, his voice even softer, as if speaking to the pile of ashes.

"Well, that's good. She frowned when she was choked by the smell. At least she smelled it."

The Jade Rabbit called out to him from afar. He tucked the fragment into his pocket, stood up, and replied, "Coming."

He turned and walked towards me, his face, a mess of mud and sweat, bearing a single expression. It wasn't relief, enlightenment, or "I've finally let go"; it was just a very ordinary expression, the kind of expression one has after finishing something and not knowing what to do next.

"Boss Chang, what's this dish called?"

I thought for a moment: "Laurel Tibetan pig."

Wu Gang was silent for a moment: "Tibetan incense? Whose incense is it?"

I didn't answer.

The stove crackled. He nodded, didn't ask any further questions, and turned to walk towards the Jade Rabbit. After taking two steps, he stopped and glanced back at me.

"I've worn that garment for tens of thousands of years. I've never washed it." He paused, his voice not loud, but each word steady. "It's not laziness, it's because I'm afraid of washing it away."

He finished speaking and left. His steps were slow, each step leaving a muddy footprint on the cold stone slabs of the Moon Palace.

I squatted down to clean the stove, picking up the pieces of mud shell one by one and putting them into a bowl.

The Jade Rabbit squatted under the osmanthus tree root and waved its paw at me, urging me to bring some milder vegetables next time I came. I waved my hand.

On my way back to my stall, I passed by the South Heavenly Gate. The gatekeeper asked me what dish I had made that day, and I said it was Tibetan pork with laurel. He asked what it tasted like. I thought for a moment and said, "Smoky."

He looked completely bewildered. I smiled and said nothing more.

Another dish has appeared on the food stall. I placed the piece of charred cloth that I had peeled off the mud shell under the knife. It was very thin, with curled edges, and no longer smelled of smoke. Only a very faint, dried osmanthus fragrance remained.