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

The wind at Nantianmen is always unpredictable, and today it's carrying a lingering musty smell.

I had just sealed a jar of "Forget-Me-Not Chili Noodles" and hadn't even had time to stick on the talisman when the tattered tarpaulin covering my head ripped open with a loud rip.

Well, this stall was set up for nothing again today.

I sighed and resignedly reached out to catch the scorching sunlight that was letting in.

This stall has been set up outside the South Heavenly Gate for a full three hundred years.

The black iron pot was chipped, the cutting board was crooked, there were broken tiles under the stove legs, and there was a crack on the tarpaulin that the Dragon King of the West Sea, Ao Run, had swept with his dragon tail when he was drunk last time.

For three hundred years, I haven't moved from place, nor have I repaired my stall. It may be a bit dilapidated, but this is my stall.

Just as I was wondering if I should pack up and go back to mend that tattered cloth, a nauseating sandalwood scent abruptly suppressed the wind at Nantianmen.

The cranes that were rolling around in the clouds seemed to have been choked and were flapping their wings as they fled in a sorry state.

The little fairies watching the commotion around them turned pale, wishing they could shrink their heads into their necks.

I didn't back down. Because I knew it was pointless to hide.

I've only ever experienced that oppressive force, the kind that could freeze you to the bone, in one place.

Back in the day, in the imperial kitchen, when Yi Ya got angry.

I slowly straightened up, patted the chili powder off my sleeve, and looked up.

Yi Ya stood three steps away, dressed in a dazzling array of finery. His gilded immortal robe was flawless, and the clouds beneath his feet were specially made, five-colored auspicious clouds.

He stood amidst my pile of scrap metal and rotten vegetable leaves, like a golden Buddha fallen into a slop bucket.

He didn't look at me; his gaze first swept over my chipped black iron pot, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

  

"Chang Baiwei." He finally spoke, his voice not loud, but like an icicle piercing my eardrum, "How come your name is on the shortlist for head chef of the Jade Pool Banquet?"

I picked up a rag and slowly wiped the cutting board.

There were three knife marks on the cutting board, the deepest one being the one left when I left the imperial kitchen.

Yi Ya said my hands were not worthy to touch his stove, and I said your stove was not worthy to bear my knife marks either.

"The Heavenly Court issues notices; anyone with hands can report them. What, Master, are you afraid my filthy hands will offend your eyes?"

The word "Master" sounded jarring to me, even to myself.

"Insolence!" The slight contempt in Yi Ya's eyes exploded instantly, transforming into a tangible spiritual pressure that crashed down.

My newly repaired spice rack collapsed onto the floor with a crash, spilling chili powder, Sichuan peppercorn powder, and the freshly sealed jar of "Forget-Me-Not" all over the ground, a red, yellow, and white mixture.

He took a step forward, looking down at me with a mocking smile.

"A disgraced disciple I expelled from my sect, relying on some underhanded and unorthodox methods, dares to compete with me for the position of head chef at Yaochi?"

I looked down at the broken porcelain shards and seasoning powder scattered all over the floor, thinking that my bad luck was as consistent as ever.

For three hundred years, wherever I go, bad luck follows, and even the dishes I cook carry an inescapable stench of misfortune.

Other deities' cooking brings wealth and prosperity, but my cooking makes me sick. Yet I haven't left. I won't leave, and I won't change.

The day Ma, the jinx, took me in as his godson, he told me: "With your fate, you'll be a jinx wherever you go. You might as well stay at the South Heavenly Gate, let the wind blow and the rain fall, and see who gives in first."

"Whether it's smeared or not is up to the Queen Mother of the West to decide."

I looked up and met his murderous eyes. "Master, why aren't you in the imperial kitchen preparing your longevity dishes? What are you doing causing trouble in front of my lousy stall?"

Yi Ya was speechless and turned ashen-faced by my use of the word "wild".

He took a deep breath, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world, and suddenly let out a cold laugh.

"Fine, very well. Since you're so eager to die, then I'll grant your wish."

He suddenly flicked his sleeve, and a golden light transformed into a battle plan, which slammed into the chopping board beside my feet with a resounding thud.

The spot where the golden light pierced the surface perfectly covered the deepest knife mark on the cutting board.

"Three days later, at the Jade Pool Arena, a public duel will take place. The winner will take charge of the Jade Pool Banquet. The loser—will smash this black pot on the spot, cripple both hands, and be permanently banned from the culinary world! For the rest of their lives, they will never touch a stove again, nor wield a kitchen knife!"

The surrounding air froze instantly.

Several little fairies who were hiding in the distance and peeking in were so frightened that they covered their mouths. This was no bet; it was clearly a death trap.

I bent down, pulled out the gleaming gold letter of challenge, and casually tapped the sawdust off the cutting board.

Sawdust fell to the ground and mixed with chili powder.

"Master, you've taken a huge gamble. Aren't you afraid of shortening your lifespan?"

I weighed the challenge letter in my hand, and the smile on my lips gradually faded.

"Alright, I accept. But we have a deal: if you lose, I'll have to use that 'Heavenly Chef God' plaque as firewood."

Yi Ya's pupils suddenly contracted, and his face turned so gloomy it could drip water.

He didn't say anything more, but took one last look at my broken iron pot, as if confirming something, before turning around and riding away on the clouds.

The colorful auspicious clouds left a long trail, like a golden snake.

I looked in the direction where the golden light disappeared and casually tossed the challenge letter into the stove.

The flames suddenly shot up and instantly engulfed the gold paper.

The firelight from the stove shone on my face and also on the black iron pot with a chipped corner.

"The way of cooking?" I scoffed.

I can guess what Yi Ya is going to do even with my eyes closed.

Steamed lamb with goat's milk.

That dish was both extremely luxurious and extremely cruel.

When he taught me in the imperial kitchen, his tone was as calm as if he were teaching me how to make a simple steamed egg custard.

I stood beside him, watching him cut the lamb, whose eyes were still closed, out of its mother's womb and put it into a steamer.

He said that this is what you call top-quality ingredients.

That was the first time I felt that his cooking style was wrong.

But I didn't dare say it then. Because he was my master. He was an ancient culinary god.

Honor and disgrace are offered as a reward. I rolled these five words on my tongue.

The recipe for this dish was found in a dilapidated temple after I was expelled from my master's school.

It was written on half a piece of charred scrap paper; no one knows who left it.

Next to the dish's name was only a line of small print: "Born from misfortune, fed by cause and effect. Not fragrant, but awakening."

I was already facing misfortune, and after some deliberation, I made up my mind.

This dish also requires three main ingredients.

Su Hu's heart's blood, the enchanting silk from the tip of the nine-tailed fox's tail, and the essence of King Zhou's leftover soup from the Deer Terrace.

Three things, three people crushed by fate, three indelible causes and effects.

Su Hu's helplessness forms the foundation, the allure of the nine-tailed fox serves as the guide, and the lingering decay of the Deer Terrace forms the core.

Add to that the bad luck I've accumulated over the past three hundred years.

Misfortune is not a seasoning, but a bruise left on your body after being repeatedly battered and bruised by fate.

This soup isn't fragrant, but it can wake up anyone who eats it.

I patted the blackened pot, the firelight reflecting off my face. "Old buddy, looks like we'll have to go meet up with some old acquaintances this time."

I took off my apron and turned to walk towards the East Dipper Star Palace. The wind from the South Heavenly Gate whistled behind me, and a ray of sunlight peeked through a crack in the canopy.

The Eastern Dipper Star Palace exudes a solemn and ethereal aura, with its cloud-like steps and jade railings conveying a sense of serene and orderly grandeur befitting a celestial being.

But as soon as I stepped into the territory of the Star Palace, I felt a tightness in my chest, as if a damp, cold cotton ball was stuck in my heart.

This energy is neither celestial nor malevolent; it is resentment.

The resentment that had accumulated for thousands of years was so heavy that it was suffocating.

Misfortune is a calamity for others, but for me, it's a tonic.

I took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing this nauseating sense of oppression into my dantian, and began to circulate the innate misfortune within my body, like peeling away layers of silk, drawing out the surrounding dark energy.

The celestial guards stood in my way, brandishing their halberds. I introduced myself: "Chang Baiwei of the Southern Heavenly Gate requests an audience with Lord Su Hu."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the halberd in the immortal soldier's hand suddenly cracked without warning.

The celestial soldier was startled, but I was used to it.

Wherever I go, things break down; the title of "jinx" isn't given to me for nothing.

The celestial soldier looked at me suspiciously for a moment, but eventually turned around and went inside to report.

A moment later, I was led into the main hall.

The interior furnishings were extremely simple, with not even a single extra chair.

Only an old longsword sat on the table, its scabbard covered with a thin layer of dust, as if no one had touched it for a long time, yet it was too precious to put it away.

Su Hu sat upright in the main seat, dressed in a plain-colored official robe, his temples were streaked with frost, and his brows were etched with deep lines that looked as if they were about to split open.

But I immediately noticed something more striking.

The black mist swirling around his head was a thick, persistent, and unyielding torment of a thousand years of unresolved obsession, so dense it was almost dripping with water.

"So you're the cook who was expelled from Yi Ya's sect and made evil food at Nantianmen?" Su Hu asked, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded.

I bowed respectfully. Instead of explaining my purpose, I quietly activated my aura of misfortune, drawing upon the darkness that permeated his body.

The black mist seemed to have found an outlet, wafting towards me in wisps, chilling me to the bone.

"This junior, Chang Baiwei, has come today only to ask the Star Lord for one thing: to cook a dish to challenge Yi Ya in the Jade Pool."

"The art of cooking?" Su Hu scoffed, his eyes full of mockery.

"Yi Ya's culinary arts are all about currying favor with superiors and currying favor with the powerful. How can you possibly find any righteous path by learning from him?"

"He has already expelled me from his sect." I looked up and stared directly at him, my gaze unwavering.

In this confrontation, Yi Ya will undoubtedly use extraordinary objects to win the favor of those in power, just as he cooked his own son to please his master back then. Just like Xing Jun was forced to send his own daughter, Daji, into the Yin Shang palace, turning her into a pawn in the game of power.

Su Hu slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly.

The old sword on the table hummed loudly from the vibration, and dust fell in rustling sounds.

His aura suddenly surged, and the air in the hall seemed to be gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

His eyes were bloodshot, but it wasn't just simple rage.

Beneath that crimson lies a weakness and defeat that has been seen through.

"This matter has long been buried, how dare you reopen my wounds!"

"Everyone says that Su Hu offered his daughter to protect the people of Ji Province, and that he was a loyal subject to the emperor."

Instead of retreating, I advanced, my voice calm and steady.

Misfortune surged within him, swallowing the black energy bit by bit into his dantian, chilling him to the bone like a block of ice.

"But no one knows the heart-wrenching pain you felt as a father, watching helplessly as your daughter was sent into the jaws of death. No one knows the helplessness you felt, loyal to all people but betraying your loved ones, a pain that will haunt you for the rest of your life."

Su Hu staggered.

The sharpness in his eyes completely crumbled.

He wasn't defeated by me, but crushed by the guilt he had suppressed for a thousand years. He slowly sat down, looking down at the old sword on the table, remaining silent for a long time.

As that wisp of black energy flowed through my body, it carried with it a scene.

At the gate of Jizhou City, a little girl dressed in plain clothes stood beside a carriage, the wind ruffling her hair ribbon. She glanced back at her father, whose tall figure stood motionless on the stone steps of the city gate.

She didn't cry, but simply asked softly, "Father, where are you taking me?"

The tall figure did not turn around.

That was Su Hu. That was the last time Su Daji looked back at her father before she was sent to Chaoge. The nine-tailed fox hadn't possessed her yet; she was still a young girl named Su.

I once heard the sound of a ewe being held down and milked in the imperial kitchen. Yi Ya told me that this was called top-quality ingredient.

The tall, unturned figure and the hand that cut open the womb to take the lamb overlapped at that moment.

"What exactly do you want?" Su Hu's voice seemed to be squeezed out from deep in his throat.

"I want three drops of the Star Lord's heart's blood." I looked at him, the misfortune within me gradually subsiding. "The three most concentrated drops."

Su Hu remained silent for a long time.

He slowly closed his eyes, gathering immortal power at his fingertips and directing it towards his heart.

Three drops of heart's blood floated in mid-air.

Dark and murky, so thick it was almost impossible to dissolve, it was a bead of blood formed from guilt accumulated over a thousand years.

It trembled slightly in the air, as if resisting being taken out, or as if waiting for someone it had been waiting for for a thousand years to take it away.

I carefully stored the three drops of blood in a jade bottle. As I turned to walk towards the palace gate, my left knee suddenly buckled by half an inch.

Su Hu's resentment accumulated over a thousand years was too heavy, and he absorbed it all into his body. His old wounds trembled slightly under the pressure of that damp and cold weight.

I reached out and touched the door frame to steady myself, then continued walking out.

I stopped when I reached the entrance of the hall.

Without turning around, with his back to Su Hu, he said something.

"Before Su Daji was possessed by the nine-tailed fox, she stood at the gate of Jizhou City and looked back at you. She hadn't been eaten yet. She wasn't asking you why you sent her away—she was telling you that she wasn't afraid."

The hall was deathly silent.

I didn't turn around to see if he was crying.

I'm not here to take my heart's blood; I'm here to deliver a message.

Su Hu waited for a thousand years, not for anyone to scold him, nor for anyone to forgive him, but for an answer he never heard back then.

By the time I descended the cloud steps of the Eastern Dipper Star Palace, my legs were no longer so weak.

Su Hu's resentment weighed heavily on his dantian, but my misfortune enveloped it, like wrapping a bitter pill.

The pills won't become sweet, but you can still swallow them.

I looked up at the sky. The direction of the South Heavenly Gate was far away, and the next stop was even further away.

Nuwa Palace. The enchanting silk threads from the tip of the nine-tailed fox's tail are possessed only by the goddess Nuwa in the Three Realms.