“Speaking of it, the name ‘Puxiu Temple’ is not as fitting as ‘Qieting Temple.’ In the previous dynasty, it was nothing more than a few dilapidated halls amidst the bustling city, accompanied by some twenty ancient cypresses and an old blind monk tending the incense offerings,” the old manager said, his tone tinged with reminiscence.
Inside the room, Xu Maoxiu and Fan Jianglin, being outsiders to the capital, had naturally never heard of this. Li Dashao, who had grown up near the capital but had spent most of his time buried in the kitchen, knew little of its rumors and anecdotes. As for the young maid, she had arrived in the capital even later than Xu Maoxiu and the others, so she was even more unfamiliar. Everyone listened intently.
“…Later, it was Master Jinghui who arrived here during his travels. With unwavering devotion to spreading the Dharma, he toiled tirelessly, calling upon others with relentless effort, rising early and retiring late. Over the course of twenty years, he transformed the sight of crumbling bricks and scattered thatch into a grand temple, adorned with imposing Buddha statues,” the old manager recounted.
Although none of them were Buddhists, twenty years of tireless effort was still something worthy of everyone’s respect, and the people in the room all nodded in acknowledgment.
“As for the other rituals and Buddhist practices, I don’t really understand them either,” the old manager said with a chuckle. “Master Jinghui passed away on the twentieth of the third month. Ever since, Puxiu Temple has held a grand Dharma assembly every year around this time. Now, under Master Minghai, the tradition continues. Master Minghai is particularly skilled at brewing meditation tea, which brought even greater fame to the ceremony, and it has become something so prized that even with a fortune, it’s hard to come by.”
“Tea?” Fan Jianglin couldn’t help but interject. “You mean the tea we drink?”
“Vegetables, they’re all just vegetables,” the old manager laughed. “But do all vegetables taste the same?”
Fan Jianglin burst into laughter as well.
“Then, Manager Wu, what are you planning to do? Are you also preparing to seek a bowl of tea?” Li Dashao chimed in. “The shop will be opening soon. If there’s nothing else, I’ll just go—”
The old manager shot him a glare.
“Ban Qin is here, what are you fussing about?” he said. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than lecture you on Buddhist teachings?”
Li Dashao pursed his lips and fell silent.
“Speaking of Master Minghai’s tea,” the old manager continued, “so many people go to great lengths just to get a bowl of it. There was once a wealthy wholesale merchant who spent a fortune preparing a lavish vegetarian offering, all just to exchange for a single bowl of brewed tea.”
“A fortune?” This time, even the young maid widened her eyes in shock. “Just for a bowl of tea? Is it really worth it?”
The old manager stroked his beard and squinted with a smile.
“Whether a bowl of tea is worth that much, I don’t know. What I do know is that spending that fortune made his name famous throughout the capital—so yes, it was worth it,” he said.
Xu Maoxiu nodded in sudden realization.
“So, what you mean is… we should also make a vegetarian offering,” he said.
Manager Wu nodded.
“That’s right, we’re going to make a vegetarian offering,” he said.
“But… where are we supposed to get a fortune like that?” Li Dashao couldn’t help but ask.
“Not everything in this world requires money to accomplish,” the old manager replied. Then, turning to Xu Maoxiu with a smile, he added, “That’s why we’ll have to trouble you and Miss to see if there’s a way for us to get in.”
Sometimes, connections were even more powerful than money.
And someone who could write such excellent calligraphy must surely have the right connections.
Xu Maoxiu nodded.
“Alright, I understand. I’ll go talk to my sister about it,” he said.
“But don’t you think we’ve already made a name for ourselves?” Fan Jianglin interjected, gesturing toward the street outside.
Outside, the sound of approaching horses and voices carried a sense of commotion.
“This is the place! Right here—look, look at that signboard…”
Amid the noise, someone spoke loudly.
“These characters will soon be known throughout the entire city,” he couldn’t help but chuckle.
Was it really necessary to go to such lengths anymore?
The old manager lifted his head and glanced toward the entrance. Stroking his beard, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Master, the calligraphy is indeed excellent,” he said. “But this is an eatery—food is our true path.”
Rain drizzled gently in the courtyard, trickling down the artificial rockery and dripping onto a bamboo water spout. The collected water gathered at one end before tipping over, striking a stone on the other side with a crisp pat, the sound cutting through the rain and drifting into the house.
Under the eaves, Ban Qin flinched at the sudden noise, then pressed her lips together in a quiet smile.
Ever since Cheng Jiao-niang had moved in, everyone had come to see this place as a true home, unknowingly putting extra care into its decoration. The courtyard, for instance, had been arranged by the maid herself. She had installed the bamboo spout—even though the capital had no natural springs to draw from, she had found a way to use it to channel flowing water in the garden.
“My old master loved this,” the maid said with a smile. “He said it lets him hear the sound of Zen.”
In the quiet, the rhythmic plop of water echoed, rising and falling like the steady beat of a temple’s wooden fish. It truly did sound like the voice of Zen.
Ban Qin smiled again, adjusted her posture, and stepped to the doorway.
Inside the room, Cheng Jiao-niang and Xu Maoxiu sat properly, facing each other.
“Master, please have some tea,” Ban Qin said, kneeling and gently pushing the teacup forward.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s gaze fell on the tea before Xu Maoxiu.
“Tea,” she remarked. “Not bad at all.”
Ban Qin hesitated for a moment, holding the water bowl in her hands.
Does Miss want tea as well?
“Yes, I also think Manager Wu’s idea is a good one. A Zen tea gathering—it’s an opportunity,” Xu Maoxiu said.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded and reached out her hand.
Hurriedly, Ban Qin passed the bowl to her. Only when she saw Cheng Jiao-niang lift it and take a sip did she feel relieved. Lowering her head, she quietly stepped back and left the room.
“Ban Qin.”
Just as she stepped out the door, she heard Cheng Jiao-niang call from inside. She instinctively turned back.
The maid kneeling behind Cheng Jiao-niang had already responded.
“Was Chen Shi’ba-niang talking about this gathering?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Ban Qin lowered her head, turned back around, and stepped out. The rain had lightened, and the courtyard was brimming with spring vitality, the fresh air washing over her. She took a deep breath, a faint smile on her lips, and carried the tray along the corridor.
“Yes, it is indeed the same one Shi’ba-niang invited you to,” the maid said with a smile. “Manager Wu was right—there was quite the amusing tale about it back then. That barrel merchant became famous for quite some time. Later, he opened a restaurant. Though it isn’t as grand as before, it still does fairly well.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Alright, I understand. But there’s no need to prepare an extravagant vegetarian feast worth thousands,” she said. “One dish will suffice.”
“One dish?” Xu Maoxiu asked.
“One dish—something novel. That alone will be enough,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, pondering briefly. “Let’s use tofu. It serves two purposes at once.”
Xu Maoxiu didn’t question further and simply replied, “Understood.”
“And also, Sister, though business has been good lately, we’re still not making a profit. So, we’ll need some money,” he said, his expression calm.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned to look at the maid.
“We don’t have much money left,” the maid quickly replied.
Xu Maoxiu’s face showed a hint of worry.
“Then there’s no rush. Let’s wait until after the Zen Tea Gathering,” he said hurriedly, then chuckled. “Perhaps after the gathering, we won’t need to put in more money at all.”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled as well.
“Brother, no need to worry,” she said. “You coming to ask me for money—do you know how many people would want to thank you for that?”
Xu Maoxiu laughed, puzzled.
“Ban Qin,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
The maid quickly responded, waiting for her instructions, but Cheng Jiao-niang paused.
“Call that Ban Qin over,” she said.
The maid was stunned for a moment, and even Xu Maoxiu was caught off guard.
Another Ban Qin? Without realizing it, Chen Jiao-niang had gathered so many Ban Qins already.
Hearing the maid’s summons, Ban Qin was in disbelief, yet she entered with a hint of nervousness, knelt down, and saluted.
“You were the one who used to help me find patients, weren’t you?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Mistress still remembered the past.
Ban Qin couldn’t help but feel her eyes redden again.
“I don’t remember. I only remember that it seemed you wrote it in your notebook,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
“Yes, it was you who asked me to go to the street every day, listening to people gossip about interesting things. Then I would return and tell you about the ailments I heard, and you would say how to treat them. Afterward, I would go and ‘coincidentally’ approach the patient’s family, leading them to you for treatment,” Ban Qin said, her voice still trembling, but she managed to speak clearly.
“Then now, go to the street again, see if anyone is still talking about me, and what they’re saying. Come back and tell me,” Cheng Jiao-niang instructed.
Ban Qin, excited, saluted.
“Yes,” she said, her voice shaking. When she lifted her head, tears fell onto the mat, but this time, the tears were surely sweet ones.
When the rain stopped, the faint sound of reading in the side hall also ceased.
The two palace maids outside the door exchanged a glance.
One of them smiled faintly, waved her hand at the other, and then knelt down, leaning forward to peek through the crack in the door.
Inside the hall, a young man, leaning sideways against a table, was covering his mouth with his sleeve as he yawned widely, with a book tossed on the floor.
