Transmigrating to the Qi Family - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Unlucky Guy

Puling Temple is the Number one Buddhist temple in Liangjing. However, it used to be just a small, little-known temple in the northern suburbs of the capital.

It is said that in the previous dynasty, the tyrant emperor was violent and extravagant, causing widespread resentment among officials and misery among the people. The Founding Emperor of the Liang dynasty was an official in the previous dynasty who refused to collude with corrupt officials and was framed and betrayed by others.

Upon hearing rumors that someone intended to capture his family for blackmail, he fled with his family overnight. Unfortunately, their plans were leaked, and assassins were quickly dispatched to pursue them.

As they fled near Puling Temple, the abbot at the time hid them inside the temple. Despite the assassins’ threats, the abbot never revealed their whereabouts, even when his own life was at stake.

After the Founding Emperor started his rebellion, the abbot secretly donated the temple’s funds to support the uprising, hoping he could overthrow the tyrant emperor as soon as possible.

After the Founding Emperor succeeded, he publicly acknowledged the abbot’s help, declaring that without his assistance, there would be no Liang dynasty today. Understanding his hint, The ministers unanimously submitted memorials requesting an imperial decree to honor Puling Temple.

Therefore, Puling Temple also becomes known as the Protector Temple. Over more than a hundred years of development, Puling Temple’s foundation grows increasingly solid. Even when the current emperor ascends the throne, he fasts and prays at Puling Temple for three days.

The main hall of Puling Temple enshrines Amitabha Buddha, also known as the Buddha of Infinite Life. Therefore, on Amitabha Buddha’s birthday, Puling Temple holds a three-day Buddhist assembly, inviting monks from renowned temples and ancient monasteries to exchange Buddhist teachings. The temple opens all its doors to welcome devout believers.

…

“Alright, after turning this corner, we are within the boundaries of Puling Temple.”

Jiang Miao, who is starting to doubt his life due to the wind. He immediately perks up upon hearing this. He straightens his back and looks ahead past the two people in front of him. However, there is no grand temple in sight; the scenery looks the same as the areas they have just passed.

But if you think about it carefully, Uncle Zhang had said they would be within the boundaries of Puling Temple. This means that from the moment they turn that corner, they are already in the area governed by Puling Temple.

Jiang Miao is amazed. Such a vast expanse of fields, stretching beyond the horizon, produces enough grain each year just to feed the monks of one temple. How much surplus must they have! Moreover, Uncle Zhang had mentioned that, in addition to talking about the historical connection between Puling Temple and the Liang dynasty, any land registered under the temple’s name is exempt from taxes. This makes it clear that the monks of Puling Temple are indeed very wealthy!

The donkey cart continues to sway and bump along the road. After about another thirty minutes, Jiang Miao finally catches sight of a corner of the grand temple hidden among the mountains.

Just this one glimpse is enough to leave a person awestruck. Please forgive Jiang Miao, a student struggling academically, for being unable to use elegant words to vividly describe such a magnificent temple. At this moment, the only thought in his mind is: “This place is really big!”

“Little Jiang, do you want to start setting up your stall now, or would you prefer that I first help you find a place to stay?” Old Zhang asks. Previously, Old Man Mo had reminded him to assist Jiang Miao, who is unfamiliar with the area, in finding accommodation with local farmers.

Jiang Miao snaps out of his daze, thinks for a moment, and says, “Let’s find a place to stay first. I’m afraid if we wait too long, the rooms will be rented out.”

“Alright, let’s go find a place to stay first.” Old Zhang turns the donkey cart onto a small path to the right of the main road.

At this time, the path is already bustling with people carrying loads and pushing carts, all heading towards Puling Temple, clearly also planning to set up stalls.

Jiang Miao feels a twinge of regret. Had he known, he would have come yesterday. Now it seems he is already a step behind. He hopes there will still be a spot for his stall later.

After several twists and turns, the donkey cart stops in front of a fenced gate where an elderly lady is sitting, seemingly sorting beans.

“Granny Miao, is Brother Dagen at home?”

Granny Miao looks up and immediately recognizes the person speaking to her: “Isn’t this Zhuzi? What brings you here today? Dagen has gone to the fields but will be back soon.”

“Granny Miao, I’ve brought you some business. How many rooms have you rented out this year? Do you have any left?”

“Yes, there’s still one available, at the back.” During the annual Buddhist assembly, the farmhouses around here are in high demand for rent. It is only because Granny Miao’s house is a bit off the main path that there is still a room available.

Granny Miao leads them inside and opens the door to a room that is kept very clean. There is a kang (a traditional heated brick bed) big enough for three or four people, covered with straw and quilts, which looks quite warm. Apart from that, the room has nothing else.

Jiang Miao isn’t picky. After confirming that he can buy firewood from the landlord, he immediately decides to rent the house and pays both the rent and the firewood fee in one go.

Granny Miao takes the key off and hands it to Jiang Miao, telling him to keep it safe. Jiang Miao takes the key, then he, along with Daniu and Old Zhang, unloads the items they won’t need for the day from the donkey cart and places them inside the house.

After putting everything away, Jiang Miao locks the door, gets back on the donkey cart, and heads towards Puling Temple with the remaining items.

The main gate of Puling Temple is halfway up the mountain, with a clearing at the foot of the mountain that Jiang Miao estimates to be about the size of two modern football fields, capable of accommodating thousands of people.

Before they reach the clearing, someone stops them, saying that no vehicles are allowed to park there and that they have to park around the back. Jiang Miao quickly gets off the cart and, together with Daniu, unloads the goods from the cart.

Old Zhang pats Daniu on the shoulder, reminds him once again to be diligent over the next few days, and then drives the donkey cart away.

“Uncle, we want to set up a stall. Do we go directly in, or what do we need to do?” Jiang Miao asks, guessing that just as there are people managing the parking, there must also be people managing the stalls.

The man, with a look of “smart move” on his face, says, “You need to pay a fee to set up a stall here. It’s fifty wen per day, regardless of what you’re selling. How many days do you plan to set up?”

“…Three days,” Jiang Miao replies, somewhat taken aback, as the daily stall fee is almost as much as his travel expenses.

The man skillfully pulls a colored bamboo stick from a bamboo tube at his waist and says, “Go over there to pay. After you pay, keep the receipt safe. That’s your proof, and if you lose it, you’ll have to replace it.”

Jiang Miao looks in the direction the man points. There is a massive crowd; he had previously thought they were gathered to buy something, but it turns out they are all there to pay the stall fees.

He instructs Daniu to take the goods over to secure a spot, then takes the bamboo stick and goes to pay. After a great deal of effort, he finally gets the receipt. Jiang Miao folds it carefully and tucks it into his chest pocket. It is worth 150 wen, and losing it would be a shame.

Once the receipt is safely stored, Jiang Miao begins searching for Daniu. While looking, he also checks out the items being sold at the surrounding stalls. There are, unsurprisingly, incense, candles, and paper money for worship, as well as food, drinks, everyday items, and toys—almost anything available in the market, except for meat products, which would be inappropriate here.

When Jiang Miao finally finds Daniu, he frowns. Their stall is surrounded by other breakfast vendors selling similar items like buns, flatbreads, steamed buns, and sugar cakes. This not only makes it harder to sell his goods but also risks upsetting the competition.

Daniu looks a bit uneasy. He says, “I’m sorry, Brother Jiang. I looked for a long time, and this was the only spot a bit closer to the front. All the others were farther away.”

Jiang Miao sighs inwardly. They have arrived late, so there is no helping it. He pats Daniu on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Brother Daniu. Let’s just set up our stall quickly.”

Since they will be setting up from morning till evening, Jiang Miao places a brazier under the stall and sets a pot on it to steam the buns. The steamer is large, with three layers, each holding over thirty buns. Jiang Miao had prepared the buns the afternoon before, and now is the perfect time to steam them.

As the buns begin to steam, the aroma wafts through the air, drawing customers who had been heading to other stalls.

“How much longer for the buns to be ready?” a passerby asks.

“They’ll be ready in just a moment,” Jiang Miao replies, noting the steam rising from the steamer. He knows they need another two or three minutes. Without an exact timing tool, he worries that saying they’ll take longer might drive away impatient customers.

So he asks, “We have two flavors of buns—radish and tofu. Which one would you like?”

The customer seems to have difficulty deciding. After a moment, he asks, “Which one tastes better?”

Jiang Miao smiles. “It depends on your preference. Both flavors are popular. Why not try one of each? Everyone says they’re both delicious.”

The customer agrees, “Alright, I’ll take one of each. How much?”

“Five wen for two,” Jiang Miao says without hesitation, raising the price a bit. He feels no guilt—prices often go up during festivals, and a slight increase is normal.

The customer doesn’t seem surprised and promptly hands over five wen.

Jiang Miao takes the money and puts it in the drawer, then lifts the steamer lid. A wave of doughy and savory aroma wafts out, and Jiang Miao can clearly see the customer’s throat move as he swallows.

It turns out the palm-sized buns have already puffed up, each one plump and white, crowded enticingly in the steamer. To distinguish between the two fillings, Jiang Miao intentionally makes a small notch in the tofu buns.

Jiang Miao uses bamboo tongs to pick up the buns and place them into half-wrapped oil paper packages to hand to the customer. Not only does Jiang Miao kindly explain the difference between the two types of buns, but he also warns him that the buns are hot when they come out of the steamer, advising him to be careful.

After this customer leaves, a few more customers come to the stall, all buying two buns before leaving. Unfortunately, being new faces compared to the other stall owners, they are met with skepticism from the customers, which is understandable. Although it is a bit quiet, Jiang Miao doesn’t mind. When there are no customers, he simply covers the buns and sets up a stool and cutting board to start preparing the filling. Daniu, on the other hand, stands beside him, kneading dough. This is the only skill he has learned during the six months of being a waiter—how to knead dough to make it more elastic.

At this point, the neighboring stall owners seem somewhat gleeful. While conducting their own business, they continue to exchange glances, inviting others to look at these two unlucky fellows. They have come to set up stalls at the festival every year, and there is an unspoken understanding among them: to compete with each other but also to collectively exclude outsiders.

It’s just that Jiang Miao, being new to the scene, doesn’t know. Hasn’t he noticed that the other stall owners deliberately keep their distance from these few stalls?