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

After the water source disappeared, I did not take action immediately.

Venus's rank depends on human relationships.

He had been operating in the Heavenly Court for tens of thousands of years, and he had many old acquaintances in various departments and offices.

The celestial officials of the Household Registration Office would bow and address him as "Master," and the steward of the Wenchang Pavilion would receive celestial fruits from him during festivals.

His kind-hearted smile is the best passport; wherever he goes, people will make things easy for him.

If we want to touch his affairs, we need to find out how that spot was transferred from Shui Qingze to his fairy boy.

I took off my apron and told Old Zhang, who was selling fairy fruits next to me, that I had gone out to get ingredients if anyone ordered food.

Then I went to the Household Registration Department.

The Household Registration Office is located on the west side of the Heavenly Court. Its entrance is always deserted, and the number of gods coming to handle their affairs is not as great as the pair of stone lions at the entrance.

It's not that the Household Registration Department isn't important; it's just that the gods in Heaven dislike dealing with household registration the most, finding it troublesome, queuing, and filling out forms.

So this place is very quiet all year round, so quiet that even the paws of the stone lions at the entrance are covered in dust.

  

The celestial official in charge of the archives was an old man with round-framed glasses, surnamed Zhou, who had been in charge of the celestial register archives in the Heavenly Court for tens of thousands of years.

His greatest hobby was drawing small plum blossoms on the edges of archives with a vermilion pen. He drew them with great detail, making even the stamens distinct.

Someone once said to him, "Old Zhou, you've managed archives for tens of thousands of years, and all you've done is paint plum blossoms."

He wasn't annoyed, saying that files are just a pile of waste paper when nothing goes wrong, but a pile of evidence when something does go wrong.

His plum blossoms are like the rings of his life, each one drawn on the edge of scrap paper, over tens of thousands of years.

When I went in, he was hunched over his desk drawing plum blossoms, his nose almost poking the paper.

I placed a box of osmanthus cake that I had bought on the way on the corner of his desk.

He looked up at me, then at the osmanthus cake, and put down his vermilion brush.

"Boss Chang, what brings you here?"

"Lord Zhou," I pulled up a chair and sat down.

"I have something to ask you. Among the celestial children admitted to Wenchang Pavilion this year, the one from the family of Venus, do you have a copy of his celestial registration and basic Taoist records?"

Old Zhou's pen paused on the paper. An extra dot appeared on the stamen of the plum blossom.

He glanced at me over his glasses, his eyes showing no hostility, but a clear worry written all over his face: You're just asking for trouble.

"Boss Chang, it's not that I don't want to help you. The files are official documents, and accessing them requires a procedure; you need an approval slip."

He moved the osmanthus cake box half an inch to the side and lowered his voice.

"And let me give you a piece of advice: don't pry into Taibai Jinxing's affairs. He's been in Heaven for tens of thousands of years, and even the Jade Emperor gives him some face. Why would you, a mere street vendor, want to cause trouble for him?"

"I don't have any personal issues with him. A friend just asked me to ask him about it."

Old Zhou stared at me for a long time, then sighed.

The sigh was long and heavy.

It's like having something bottled up inside for a long time, knowing that someone will ask about it sooner or later, but when someone actually asks, you don't know whether you should say it or not.

He got up and walked to the file shelf behind him.

The shelves stretched from the floor to the ceiling, densely packed with files—some were bamboo slips, some were silk scrolls, and some were paper archives.

Tens of thousands of years of immortal records are stacked on this wall. Each name represents a life, and each life occupies a place on this wall.

Some positions are remembered, some are forgotten, and some have been tampered with.

His fingers traced slowly across the rows of files, as if searching for something or delaying a decision.

When he reached a certain point, he stopped, took out a thin file, placed it on the table, and flipped through it.

He paused for a moment when he turned to a certain page.

"The file of Shui Qingze".

I leaned closer to take a look. The file clearly stated: Basic Daoist Skills, Meets Standard. Cultivation Assessment, Passed. Immortal Register, Complete. The ink on these three lines was neat and the strokes were clear, clearly indicating that it was an original record filled out and stamped on the spot by the examiner during the formal assessment.

Each line is followed by a vermilion stamp; the three stamps are neatly arranged without any signs of alteration.

Then, below these three lines of text, there is a newly added line of small characters in cinnabar.

"The foundation of the Daoist teachings has been found to be flawed upon review; therefore, the applicant is not accepted."

There was a blurry stamp on the back, and it was impossible to tell which department it belonged to.

The stamp was crooked and the vermilion at the edges had bled out, as if it had been hastily and carelessly applied.

"Who added this line of text?"

"There's no signature." Old Zhou turned the file over to show me.

"According to regulations, revisions to archives must specify the reviser, the date of revision, and the basis for revision; all three are indispensable. This one only has a conclusion, but no basis, no date, and the seal is blurry. Strictly speaking, this is a revision that violates regulations."

He closed the file and put it back on the shelf. He sat back down at his desk, picked up his vermilion brush, and continued painting his plum blossoms.

But he applied more force when painting the plum blossoms than before, and the edges of the petals trembled slightly, as if the tip of the brush was speaking for his mouth.

"Boss Chang, I'm just in charge of the files. I keep whatever's written in the files. As for who wrote it, why they wrote it, and whether it's in accordance with the rules, that's not my concern."

He didn't look at me when he said that. He stared at the plum blossom on the paper, as if he were talking to the flower.

I understand. Old Zhou won't stand up and testify against anyone. He's just an old clerk in charge of archives, with no background or backing, who has been painting plum blossoms for tens of thousands of years in a cold, unpopular office on the west side of the Heavenly Court.

But he has already said everything he could.

This revision is illegal, without any basis, without signature, and with an unclear seal.

In other words, this is a revision that cannot withstand scrutiny.

If someone investigates, it will be unable to stand firm.

The problem is, nobody is investigating.

I thanked him and pushed the osmanthus cake towards him again.

He didn't look up, but the pen tip paused on the paper for a moment, and an extremely thin arc appeared on the petal of the plum blossom, as if the person drawing the flower was pointing out a way to someone else.

I turned and left the Household Registration Office. As I walked to the door, Old Zhou suddenly said something behind me. His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself.

"The teacher appreciation banquet at Wenchang Pavilion is scheduled for seven days from now this year. Old Man Taibai is the new student's parent and will definitely be there."

I didn't turn around, but I kept those words in my mind.

Next, I went to Wenchang Pavilion to find Old Xu, the immortal chef in charge of meals.

Old Xu and I have known each other for a long time.

He used to work in the Imperial Kitchen, but later found the Imperial Kitchen too restrictive and voluntarily applied to be transferred to the Wenchang Pavilion.

In a place like the imperial kitchen, making a dish requires eight steps, and each step is overseen by a dedicated person. Even the amount of salt added must be according to the imperial recipe; not a single grain more is allowed.

Old Xu said that wasn't cooking, it was writing official documents, and he couldn't stand that.

They came to Wenchang Pavilion to cook for the teachers and students. Although the standards were not as high as those of the imperial kitchen, they felt at ease.

We're all just trying to make a living, so there's no need for us to beat around the bush when we talk.

I pulled him to the small courtyard outside the kitchen of Wenchang Pavilion.

Several baskets of newly arrived fresh vegetables were piled up in the yard, and several bundles of firewood were stacked in the corner. A faint smell of soy sauce wafted in the air.

This is the smell from the back door of the kitchen; it's the same everywhere you go, and it makes you feel at ease.

I handed him a stick of incense to refresh him. It wasn't a real cigarette; it was rolled by me using spiritual herbs from the back mountain. One puff and I'd feel incredibly energized.

Even the gods who stay up all night preparing food in the kitchen love this. It's more invigorating than magic wine, gentler than elixirs, and most importantly, it's inexpensive.

Old Xu lit the incense sticks over the stove, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled smoke rings. The smoke rings dissipated slowly in the night, appearing white under the moonlight outside the courtyard wall.

"Old Xu, has the menu for the teacher appreciation banquet been finalized?"

"It's settled, just settled today."

He flicked the ash from his cigarette.

"The appetizer is Jade Lotus Root, the main course is Dragon Liver and Phoenix Marrow, and the soup is yet to be decided. Old Man Taibai specially sent someone to deliver several jars of his treasured celestial wine, saying he wanted Wenchang Xingjun to taste it. Look at his dedication; among all the parents of the new students, he is the most attentive."

He said it in a flattering tone, but his eyes conveyed something else entirely.

People who have spent a lot of time at the kitchen are masters at praising someone verbally but not with their eyes.

There was no admiration in Lao Xu's eyes, only a calm acceptance of what he had seen through.

Hearing this, I already knew what was going on.

Venus is already laying the groundwork.

A few jars of celestial wine in exchange for a second glance and a word of praise from the God of Literature at the banquet for his celestial attendant.

He was so skilled at these social interactions that he didn't need to calculate anything; he could be more considerate than others with just a casual gesture.

While other parents were still pondering whether to give gifts, what gifts to give, and how much to give, he had already placed the wine on the table of the God of Literature, not under the guise of giving a gift, but under the guise of "adding to the celebration of the teacher appreciation banquet."

He neither lost his dignity nor failed to make people remember him.

"The soup hasn't been ordered yet? That's perfect."

I put my arm around his shoulder and lowered my voice.

"Old Xu, can you do me a favor? On the day of the teacher appreciation banquet, let me serve the soup."

Old Xu glanced at me. His gaze was exactly the same as Old Zhou's: first confusion, then worry, and finally a silence that seemed to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Boss Chang, what are you doing?"

"Nothing much. I just recently developed a new soup, and I thought it would be nice for all of you celestial officials to try it out."

He was silent for a moment. He flicked the ash from his stimulant cigarette, stubbed it out on the sole of his shoe, and then nodded.

I didn't ask a single extra question.

Those who work in the kitchen know best what to ask and what not to ask.

How much salt to add, how much water to add, and how long to stew a dish are the chef's job.

As for who this dish is served to and what will happen after it's eaten, that's the chef's business.

Old Xu didn't ask, not because he wasn't curious, but because he knew that the things he was going to do didn't need anyone else to oversee them for him.