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

The first donkey meat sandwich came out of the oven, and the scalding hot air, carrying the aroma of caramel and meat, went straight into my nostrils.

The outer skin was roasted until crispy and golden brown, and the donkey meat filling inside was soaked in juice until it was translucent. Even the drop of fake tear mixed in turned into an indescribable and strange taste.

I had just put the baked bun on the plate and hadn't even had time to let it cool down when Zhang Guolao impatiently reached out and grabbed it without any politeness.

He held the hot baked bun, blew on it twice, and then took a big bite.

The scalding hot oil made him grimace, but he couldn't bear to spit it out. His cheeks bulged as he wolfed it down.

His anxious appearance showed no trace of the composure of an elder in the immortal family; he had been completely bewitched by greed.

After a few bites, Zhang Guolao's eyes lit up instantly.

He nodded repeatedly at me, his mouth full of food, and praised me loudly and indistinctly.

"Delicious! Absolutely delicious! Young shopkeeper, your cooking is amazing! This meat, wow, this meat is simply top-quality!"

As he spoke, oil splattered from the corners of his mouth, and a sesame seed stuck to his chin, but he was oblivious, preoccupied with taking another big bite.

He took several more bites, finishing the whole baked bun, and then licked the oil off his lips with a lingering sense of satisfaction.

Then he turned his head, his gaze fixed on the remaining raw donkey meat on the cutting board, then glanced at the donkey still tied to the post. The words that came out of his mouth chilled people to the bone.

"I see now, you donkey, you were born to be made into donkey meat sandwiches! I was wasting your talent before, I should have eaten you like this long ago!"

These words, though spoken lightly, were like a knife chilled to the bone, piercing straight into the donkey's heart.

I stood by the stove, watching coldly.

The donkey, which had been docile and silent all along, suddenly stiffened, and slowly raised its head, which had been hanging down.

The donkey's eyes, which had been dull and lifeless, finally stirred with intense emotion.

Shock, despair, and the heart-wrenching desolation that followed complete sobriety.

It stared fixedly at Zhang Guolao, at this master who rode on its back every day, always saying he was doing it for its own good and that he would help it cultivate and transform into a dragon.

  [At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 101kJ.KJ]

Watching him cook the meat he obtained through "cultivation" into a baked bun, eating it with his mouth full of oil, and then uttering such cold and ruthless words.

All that talk of giving away one's own body, or transforming into a dragon-horse, is utter nonsense. It's nothing more than a tool capable of infinite regeneration, exploited at will, and Zhang Guolao's means to make extra money.

From beginning to end, there was not a trace of sincerity, not a trace of so-called spiritual practice, only endless exploitation and consumption.

The donkey moved slowly, its once docile eyes now empty and resolute. It walked to the food stall, its gaze falling on the remaining donkey meat sandwiches on the cutting board. Without the slightest hesitation, it lowered its head and picked one up in one bite.

It is eating its own flesh, tasting the bitterness of being exploited.

It chews very slowly with each bite.

I could clearly see that something shattered in its large eyes, and something else stood up.

All those words that had brainwashed them with Zhang Guolao's empty promises, all those grievances they had silently endured the pain of losing their own flesh, all came to a complete awakening at this moment, along with this piece of meat.

It finally saw through its master's hypocrisy and selfishness, and realized that no matter how much it gave, it would not achieve any ascension to immortality. It would only be bound to the same spot forever, its flesh cut off and its body used, until it completely lost its value.

The next second, the donkey gently placed the remaining crumbs from its mouth onto the stove.

It did not vomit.

It was being released, the movement very slow, as if it were saying a final goodbye to the meat.

The scraps lay on the cutting board, side by side with the bloodstains that had splattered when the meat was being cut earlier—one a price to pay, the other an awakening.

Then it lowered its head, bit the reins that had bound it for who knows how many years, and slowly untied the knot.

The knot was tied by Zhang Guolao himself, and it has been tied for thousands of years without ever coming undone.

But it solved it very quickly today, as if it already knew how to solve it, but just hadn't made up its mind.

Perhaps it has been waiting for this day for thousands of years.

The reins slipped off the wooden post and landed on the cloud-patterned bricks with a very soft thud. The rope coiled up on the ground, shaped like a question mark.

The donkey glanced at Zhang Guolao one last time, its eyes no longer filled with meekness or resentment. It held a calm emptiness, a emptiness born of profound understanding.

The absence of hatred means indifference. Hatred requires effort, but this has saved even that effort.

Then it pushed off the ground with all four hooves, turned around, and ran towards the depths of the heavenly clouds.

It didn't run fast, didn't neigh, didn't look back, but ran steadily, each step firm, as if it finally knew where to go.

Its figure was gradually swallowed by the clouds and mist, first its tail, then its back, and finally its pair of grayish ears.

The direction in which the ear finally disappeared was opposite to the position where Zhang Guolao was standing.

It's outside the South Heavenly Gate, that patch of sky without any canopy.

"Hey! My donkey! Come back here!"

Zhang Guolao panicked and dropped the plate in his hand, shattering it into three pieces.

He reached out to stop it, but his fingers only managed to grab a wisp of gray hair that had fallen from the tip of the donkey's tail.

The gray hair fluttered in his palm, and with a gust of heat from the stove fire, it spun and fell into the firebox, burning away instantly.

His expression changed instantly; his previous smugness and greed vanished completely, and his face turned pale and then red.

He pointed in the direction the donkey had run off in, his fingers trembling, as if he wanted to lash out. His lips moved for a long time, but he could only manage to squeeze out a few mumbled curses.

He wanted to curse the donkey for being heartless, but then he remembered that he had just said it was for making baked buns; he wanted to accuse me of interfering, but he couldn't find any grounds to accuse me of.

In the end, all he could do was stomp his foot angrily, give my food stall a venomous look, and leave in a sorry state like a stray dog.

A collaboration that was all talk and no action ultimately ended up being a complete waste of time and effort.

I looked at the empty stall, with only an old, untied reins remaining, and felt no emotion whatsoever.

I bent down and picked up the reins. The rope still retained the warmth of the donkey's neck, and a few gray-white donkey hairs clung to the edge of the knot, which had been worn smooth.

I wrapped the reins around the stove twice and hung them on the side of the stove, then silently added another dish, "Donkey Meat in a Painting," to the menu.

In this world, whether gods or mortals, there are always those who use empty dreams to exploit those who work silently.

They thought they could control everything, but they forgot that even the most docile animal has a moment when it is fully awake and will bite.

No, the donkey didn't bite anyone. It just untied its rope and walked away.

It's even more vicious than biting.

I cleaned up the mess on the cutting board and prepared the remaining ingredients.

Just as I was about to catch my breath, the clouds in the distance began to churn again, and several forlorn and weary figures were walking step by step toward my food stall.

It seems that the Heavenly Court has a constant stream of unfortunate individuals bound by rules and regulations.