Chapter 3

In the land of Huaxu, in the province of Qingzhou, there lies the Qinglong Temple.

It was lunchtime, and the kitchen of Qinglong Temple, known as the Xiangji Kitchen, was filled with the aroma of cooking, permeating the air. The scent attracted cats and dogs from the neighborhood, who gathered outside the wall, barking and meowing incessantly. Suddenly, two young figures emerged from a small, inconspicuous hole at the base of the wall, sneaking into the kitchen with furtive movements.

The Xiangji Kitchen was vast, with large stoves built against the north and south walls. Along the south wall, a row of twelve large iron pots, each capable of cooking for a thousand people, were stacked with steaming baskets, emitting a thick mist as they steamed buns. On the north side, there were four smaller iron pots where four monks were stir-frying dishes. In the steamy, humid air, the monks, their arms swinging in wide arcs, wielded large spatulas, their movements rhythmic and synchronized, creating a steady "chacha" sound as the spatulas clashed with the iron pots.

In the middle of the two rows of stoves, a long table made from eight smaller tables was densely packed with white plates. As soon as the monks finished a dish, they quickly transferred it to a plate, their skills honed from years of practice, ensuring that each spatulaful filled exactly one plate. Half of the plates on the long table were already filled with dishes, providing for the hundreds of people in the temple.

Amidst the bustling kitchen, a plump monk in a yellow robe, his belly protruding, walked in with his hands behind his back. The cooking monks, though busy, did not dare to neglect him and turned to greet him, "Greetings, Brother Puguang!" A young monk tending the fire also emerged, bending low and bowing to the plump monk, "Greetings, Brother Jianshi!" He looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years old.

Puguang was a large, round-faced monk with a belly that bulged like a pregnant woman's, resembling a laughing Buddha. His most striking feature was his wide mouth, which seemed to take up half his face, giving him a voracious appearance.

Despite his comical appearance, Puguang was the Jianshi of Qinglong Temple, responsible for the temple's property, financial accounts, and various miscellaneous tasks. He was the head of the household, a figure who could intimidate the younger monks.

Seeing the cooking monks' respectful demeanor, Puguang grunted through his nose, not acknowledging anyone, but he cast a satisfied glance at the young monk. He then walked to the long table filled with dishes, opened his large, chubby mouth, revealing a row of white teeth, and began picking food from the plates with his hands, chewing noisily. His jowls jiggled rhythmically with each bite.

Unnoticed in a corner, a faint voice whispered with a giggle, "This fatty's mouth is best suited for rooting in manure!" Two more muffled laughs followed. The kitchen was noisy with the sounds of cooking, so Puguang did not hear.

After eating half a plate of "hand-picked" dishes, Puguang wiped his oily mouth and shouted, "Are the vegetarian dishes for Venerable Wuxiang ready? Where are they? Bring them over quickly, you lazy bunch!"

The cooking monks did not dare to argue. The young monk who had been tending the fire hurried to the steaming baskets. He noticed a small pot nestled among the large ones, with three smaller steaming baskets on top, emitting an especially tempting aroma!

The young monk climbed onto a stool to retrieve the small steaming baskets. He saw a shadow behind the large steaming baskets and was startled, almost crying out. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the two bold troublemakers hiding in the steam. He managed to suppress his surprise and quickly lifted the baskets, taking out four plates and a clay pot. The four plates contained finely prepared vegetarian dishes, and though he did not know what was in the clay pot, the mouth-watering aroma came from it.

The young monk felt relieved that the two troublemakers had not eaten these dishes. He carefully placed them in a food box and carried it to Puguang, saying, "Brother, the vegetarian dishes for Venerable Wuxiang are ready."

Puguang took the food box, glanced at the young monk, and said, "Mingkong, have those two scoundrels come to steal anything these past few days?"

Mingkong was startled, thinking he had been caught. He quickly waved his hands, "No, no! Since Brother last punished them, their bottoms are still sore! They can't even get out of bed, let alone come here to cause trouble! Besides, Brother, you manage the temple so well that its reputation has spread far and wide. That's why Venerable Wuxiang, the disciple of the National Master of Zheguo, is staying here. It's all thanks to Brother!"

Mingkong, though young, was very adept at flattery. The cooking monks called the plump monk "Brother Puguang," but Mingkong, being of the Ming generation, cleverly called him "Brother Jianshi," gaining Puguang's attention. Now, flattered by the praise, Puguang smiled widely, his laughter loud, though he still scolded, "Young in age, but big in flattery!" He patted Mingkong's bald head and left with the food box.

Mingkong quickly put on a grateful expression and called out, "Brother, have a good walk!" Watching Puguang's plump figure waddle away, he spat and muttered, "Phew, fatty!"

A cooking monk heard and laughed, teasing him, "Mingkong, be careful, or he'll make you lay the bed tonight!"

Mingkong stuck out his tongue and said, "You wish, you pervert!" He then ran to the steaming baskets and shouted, "Hey, you two fools, get out of there!"

His shout was met with a flying object from behind the steaming baskets, a half-eaten white bun with black fingerprints.

Mingkong immediately cried out, "Oh no!" and shouted, "Brother Puguang, come quick! Those two thieves are stealing buns again! Come and beat their bottoms!"

Before he could finish, a figure jumped out and covered his mouth, saying, "Great Master Mingkong, Grandfather Mingkong, you're my dear father, my dear grandfather! Please don't call out, or the fatty will come back!"

Another figure emerged, standing on the stove and sticking out his buttocks, pointing and saying, "Please, Great Master Mingkong, my bottom is still oozing pus! Be careful, or you'll get a face full of it!"

Mingkong pushed away the hand covering his mouth, spat at the boy with the protruding buttocks, and scolded, "You should have it cut off, showing your bottom to me! Being your father, I've been driven to death by you two fools many times!" He then grabbed a fire poker and lunged at the boy.

The boy was quick and dodged, circling the large steaming basket to avoid the poker. The other boy on the stove cheered, "Great Master, your power is boundless! Use your 'magic poker' to stab this cunning fool!"

Mingkong lunged several times, but the boy on the stove was agile and dodged each time. Annoyed, Mingkong noticed the other boy still cheering and, with a sly smile, suddenly struck him on the buttocks. The boy yelped in pain, jumping and crying.

The boy on the stove, seeing this, laughed heartily, slapping his thigh. However, the stove was slippery with condensation, and he slipped, falling and landing on his buttocks, which hurt even more. His cry was louder than the other boy's.

The cooking monks watched and laughed. One monk joked, "Xiaojiu, Xiaozheng, haven't you had enough 'bamboo shoots stir-fried with meat' last time? Do you want your bottoms to flower again?"

The boy who had covered Mingkong's mouth was named Lu Zheng, and the one on the stove was Tang Xiaojiu. Both were orphans from the area, working as beggars and part-time thieves. They had become friends with Mingkong and often came to the temple for food. They had been caught by Jianshi Puguang several times and received a "bamboo shoots stir-fried with meat" beating, the last one being half a month ago.

Tang Xiaojiu, dragging his feet and rubbing his sore bottom, said with a pained expression, "Cooking master, you're right. I can't even turn in bed at night. The worst is Lu Zheng, who farts in the middle of the night. I'm dreaming about eating chicken legs, and he farts, stinking up the place. I'm enjoying my dream, and I turn over, only to suffer on my bottom!" As he spoke, he grabbed food from the plates and stuffed it into his mouth.

The cooking monk, ignoring his nonsense, said, "Stop fooling around, put down the food!"

Tang Xiaojiu changed his expression, grinning and holding out the food, "Do you want it back?"

The cooking monk saw the dirty marks on his hands and scolded, "Take the plate you've touched and go. Put it back? With your manure-covered hands, the elders would have to use the toilet several times!"

Tang Xiaojiu, seeing the opportunity, said, "Thanks, cooking masters, you're so kind, unlike that fatty!" He then carried the plate back to Lu Zheng and Mingkong, who were squatting together. The cooking monks, used to the children's antics, ignored them and continued cooking.

Lu Zheng, seeing Tang Xiaojiu return with the food, took a few buns from the steaming basket and shared them. They both grabbed food from the plate, and in no time, they had each eaten three buns, leaning against the stove and burping.

Tang Xiaojiu said, "Great Master Mingkong, do you have any soup? I'm choking."

Mingkong, playing with a fire poker, put it down and brought back two bowls of hot soup. They drank it quickly, sighing in satisfaction and patting their full bellies.

Mingkong was surprised, "How long have you two not eaten?"

Lu Zheng, too full to speak, held up his hand, showing five fingers. Mingkong was shocked, "Five days? No wonder you came to me so late. How did you manage to survive?"

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