After several days of continuous spring rain, the world was now awash in a vibrant green.
The roads, still muddy from the downpour, didn’t stop people from coming and going. A carriage sped past, splashing dirty water and drawing a chorus of curses.
A man in a brown silk robe patterned with subtle floral designs, riding on horseback, hastily reined his horse aside to avoid the splash—but still got flecks of mud on the tops of his boots.
He muttered a curse under his breath and steered his horse off the main road, casting a glance toward a nearby eatery.
Colorful flags fluttered in the wind atop a tall pole, with the gold-embroidered characters “Tai Ping Residence” faintly visible.
It was just past noon. A few carriages were parked in front of the establishment.
Through the rolled-up bamboo blinds, four or five scattered patrons could be seen inside.
Not exactly what one would call a booming business.
Yet despite the empty seats in the main hall, quite a few people were still gathered outside the entrance.
The man approached, noting the brick-paved area at the entrance, the long benches set out, and a few tables laid with tea and dried fruits.
He frowned slightly—what was all this for?
As he dismounted, a stable hand quickly stepped forward to take the reins.
“Welcome, sir, please come inside…” the attendant said warmly, gesturing invitingly.
Before the man could reply, laughter broke out from the group of people by the door.
“…Well said, Brother Siwei, well said indeed…”
Then someone called out for the manager.
A server who had been standing inside the hall quickly came over.
“Let your manager know,” said a scholarly-looking man, pointing toward the signboard, “that he should move this plaque into the main hall. Exposed to wind and sun like this—what a shame it would be if it were damaged!”
The man followed their gaze and saw the plaque bearing the characters “Tai Ping Residence”.
So this was the famous inscription that had supposedly stirred up the whole city?
What was so special about it?
He frowned, lost interest, and stepped into the hall.
There were three attendants. An old man behind the counter seemed half-asleep—or at least thoroughly listless. The one taking orders was also on the older side. Though he spoke clearly enough, he lacked the alertness a proper host should have.
The dishes arrived quickly, but that wasn’t surprising—there weren’t many customers.
As for the taste…
He had eaten his fair share of the capital’s famed dishes. After a while, they all started to feel the same.
The man ate leisurely. By the time he finished and the last of the guests had left, no new customers had come in. Though the eccentric scholars outside were still milling about, none of them had come in to dine. Instead, they had set up their own cooking utensils right outside, preparing the dish that had now become widely known as “eat-as-you-please”.
Tai Ping Residence hadn’t made a single coin from these scholars; in fact, they had even provided tea for them.
It had been said before—these pretentious scholars were the most miserly, too proud to be swayed. It was impossible to expect them to humble themselves just for a single word. Perhaps, by now, they were already beginning to resent it. In their minds, this humble place had tarnished the fine character of the word, and they may even have begun to harbor ill will toward the restaurant.
“Check, please,” the man said.
The dozing manager immediately became alert.
“Eight coins,” he said, squinting his eyes.
The man paid, then walked out. The stable hand was already leading the horse over.
Unlike the stable hands at other restaurants who would pull on the reins, this young man, about twenty, let his hands hang loosely and didn’t urge the horse with calls or commands. He simply walked beside the horse, guiding it along.
The stable hand certainly had a certain skill with horses.
The man briefly considered this but quickly dismissed the thought. After all, this was an restaurant, not a stable.
He mounted his horse and rode off, but as he reached the main road, he turned back for a glance.
In the vibrant spring, the restaurant appeared somewhat desolate.
He shook his head and looked away. Just then, a carriage passed by and turned toward Tai Ping Residence.
The man reined in his horse, watching as the carriage stopped in front of the inn. A monk dismounted.
A monk?
The man frowned slightly. Could it be that the payment for the Zen tea gathering that day had been insufficient, and now the monk had come to collect the debt?
Master Minghai, who had dealt with the matter, was a tough one—nothing could move him without a fortune.
A smile tugged at the man’s lips. Those old monks were sharp and greedy, certainly not the kind one should get involved with.
With that thought, he urged his horse forward and, without a second glance, rode off into the distance.
The horse galloped steadily, and an hour later, they entered the city, coming to a stop in front of Immortal’s Abode.
Though it was past noon, the restaurant was still full of patrons.
As the man approached, the attendants were quick to greet him warmly.
“Master, you’re back,” they all said.
The man didn’t respond, heading straight inside. He passed through the back corridor, where a group of guests was descending from the upstairs, their faces pulled tight, clearly displeased.
“…We didn’t even eat much, yet the price was so high…”
One of them mumbled under his breath.
Those paupers—did they think just anyone could afford to eat here? If they couldn’t, they shouldn’t have come in the first place!
The man wore a sour expression as he brushed past them and went straight into a private room.
“How did it go?”
Dou Qi, seated on the floor, straightened up with a trace of urgency.
“Not great,” the manager said as he sat down. He recounted everything he had seen in detail.
“After all, there weren’t that many commoners who witnessed it that day. I tried the tofu dish—it was indeed good. But there’s no way those nobles would travel that far out of the city just for a single flavor. Every noble household has their own skilled cooks. Dining at an restaurant is, for them, more about leisure. Tai Ping Residence may be clean and well-kept, but if you’re asking whether it can catch the eye of the elite…”
He shook his head and left the sentence unfinished.
Dou Qi let out a sigh of relief.
“I knew those two cowards wouldn’t come up with anything useful,” he said. “Offering it up like some sacred dish before the Buddha! Do they even know who their real bread and butter is?”
As he spoke, a look of disdain crossed his face.
“Shameless, really. Drunken Phoenix Pavilion ditched them and changed its name, and they think they could just crawl back to them like that.”
“Exactly,” the manager chuckled. “That Tai Ping Residence is run by a few out-of-towners. The fact that we managed to bleed them dry back then—well, it’s not surprising. They were easily fooled by a few flattering words from Manager Wu and Li Dashao.”
Dou Qi let out a snort.
“Still, I didn’t expect those out-of-towners to have some secret technique for making tofu. And that Li Dashao—who would’ve thought his carving skills were that good? I never noticed before,” he said.
“It’s just plating, Master,” the manager quickly replied. “Nothing more than fancy window dressing—it’s not anything important.”
“But even so, this little stunt did get him some attention,” Dou Qi said, pausing in thought. “Alright then, let’s bring him back.”
The manager was startled.
“Bring him back?” he asked.
“Other restaurants may have no use for such showy flair, but for us here at Immortal’s Abode, it might actually be handy,” Dou Qi said, gesturing at the space before him. “It looks good, pleases the eye—and for the same dish, we can charge more.”
The manager nodded.
“What if he refuses?” he asked.
“Then just offer him a few more coins,” Dou Qi said carelessly. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Well, that’s true. Who could say no to money?
The manager responded with a “Yes, sir,” and stood up to take his leave. Then, as if remembering something, he paused.
“Right, Master Dou—on my way back, I think I saw a monk from Puxiu Temple heading into Tai Ping Residence. Not sure what he was doing there.”
“A monk drinking wine won’t get far anyway. Don’t mind him,” Dou Qi said, waving it off dismissively. He frowned. “Speaking of monks, the offerings we’ve been making to Puxiu Temple are getting more and more pointless. Spent all that money, and it’s not like business has improved that much.”
Business had actually picked up quite a bit, but the problem was: on offering day the food was free. After that, when customers were quoted the real prices, half got scared off, and the other half regretted spending the money and never came back. In the end, it was still just the usual regulars who stuck around.
“Once we bring back Li Dashao, we’ll add a few new dishes, and that should do the trick,” the manager said.
That line made Dou Qi uncomfortable. Since when did he need that coward to boost his business?
“Go on, go on,” he waved him away impatiently.
Cheng Jiao-niang had come to the shop today to take the maid away. The girl was clearly reluctant to leave.
“Old Master Zhang is a kind-hearted man,” Cheng Jiao-niang said gently. “To meet someone with a kind heart—that’s a blessing from heaven. Ban Qin, when fortune comes your way, you must recognize it.”
The girl looked at her, then straightened her expression and nodded.
“I’m not abandoning you,” Cheng Jiao-niang paused, then continued, “You’re a good girl—and so is she.”
She turned to glance at the other maid.
The maid chuckled lightly, as if unfazed, but a flicker of joy flashed through her eyes.
“Everyone here is good,” Cheng Jiao-niang went on, “But keeping you all with me would just be a waste. When you’re given blessings, you have to know to cherish them.”
The girl nodded, smiling.
“Miss, I know—you’re not sending me away. You just want me to have a better life,” she said. “Don’t worry. I promise, I’ll live very, very well.”
Just as the mistress and her maids were about to rise, Xu Maoxiu entered.
“Wait a moment,” he said. “Someone from Puxiu Temple is here—they want to discuss a business deal.”
Puxiu Temple? Here to talk business?
The maid and the young girl looked surprised and confused, turning their heads toward Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang gave a faint smile.
“That was quick,” she said calmly.
The maid beside her gave an “Oh!” of realization.
“Miss, could it be… for the tofu?” she asked.
“Exactly. They’re here for the tofu. Puxiu Temple wants to place an order with us,” Xu Maoxiu nodded, extending a hand as he spoke. “Three hundred catties per month.”
The maid and the young girl’s eyes widened in shock.
Three hundred catties—every month! Even Tai Ping Residence didn’t use that much tofu in half a year. Big temples really did operate on a different scale.
“I don’t need to meet with them,” said Cheng Jiao-niang. “Brother, you and the manager can handle it.”
“The price Manager Wu negotiated seems quite fair,” Xu Maoxiu replied, raising his hand to indicate the agreed amount.
The maid and the girl were stunned once again, covering their mouths in astonishment.
“Puxiu Temple really is the top temple in the capital,” the maid murmured. “No wonder people say, ‘Golden temples, silver Buddhas.’”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled, took a few steps away from the window, and the hem of her long skirt whispered across the floor.
“A temple like Puxiu, the most esteemed in the capital, surrounded by the devout—if even they were to use something as common as this, it would cheapen their stature,” she said, looking toward Xu Mao. “Raise the price by another twenty percent. Our Tai Ping Tofu will be exclusively supplied to Puxiu Temple.”
Cutting off other sales channels, giving up all other income, so that Puxiu Temple alone would have access—yes, the price needed to rise accordingly.
Xu Maoxiu nodded. “Understood. I’ll go speak with them now.” He turned to leave, but paused at the door and looked back.
“You’re calling it Tai Ping Tofu, then?”
Naturally, tofu made at Tai Ping Residence would be called Tai Ping Tofu. The maid had that thought in passing and didn’t dwell on it, but the young girl, seeing Cheng Jiao-niang nod in response, couldn’t help but laugh quietly.
Taiping Steamed Buns, Tai Ping Temple, Tai Ping Residence, Tai Ping Tofu…
It really did seem that her mistress had a deep fondness for Taiping Steamed Buns.
As Xu Maoxiu closed the door behind him, the two maids finally came back to their senses.
“Miss, so this is the sincerity you wanted the Buddha to see…” the maid murmured again.
