Chapter 82 Another Blessing (Please vote!)
Yunshui Pavilion, outside the back door of the kitchen, inside the alley.
Ouyang Rong paused for a moment, then turned to go back, his peripheral vision catching sight of several dark figures lying in the dirty water at the end of the alley.
The young man in the snow-white robe stopped, pulled out a small handful of copper coins from his pocket, walked over, and squatted down in front of the stinking, dark figure.
"You don't have much money, but you can buy two full meals first. There is a disaster relief camp near Shili Pavilion on the outskirts of the city. Just mention Liu Ashan's name and they will let you in. They will distribute porridge twice a day."
"Those who are physically able can go and dig new river channels, earn some wages, and once the Zheyi Canal is completed, there will be many new businesses along the banks."
"If your hands and feet are inconvenient, find a minor official from the disaster relief camp, and they will send you to the Beitian Relief Home at Donglin Temple. It's a very good place."
"Also... give up drinking."
Ouyang Rong divided the copper coins into four portions and stuffed them into the hands of the four beggars, some of whom were stunned and others numb. He stood up and returned to Yunshui Pavilion by the same route.
Apart from one beggar whose right forearm was missing, the other three beggars knelt down, kowtowed to the back of the young man in the snow-white robe, and then ran away from the alley with happy expressions.
The remaining one-armed beggar was an unremarkable-looking young man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old.
His hair was disheveled, obscuring his expression; all that could be seen was his dirty, drooping black hair, his lips drooping to the sides, and his thin upper lip.
The young man, with his mouth turned down, clutched his only copper coin, silently got up from the ground, his right sleeve empty, and swayed as he walked toward the alley entrance.
Standing in the sunlight at the alley entrance, the one-armed beggar did not head towards the outskirts of the city like the three beggars before him. Without pausing, he turned left, ignoring the disdainful looks from the people on the street, and once again arrived at the bustling restaurant. He walked expressionlessly through the door with the plaque bearing the three characters "Yunshui Pavilion".
"Go! Go! Go."
The waiter draped a long towel over his shoulder, waved to shoo people away, and the next moment, he was hit in the face with a handful of copper coins.
"Osmanthus wine".
The one-armed beggar said hoarsely, walking towards the sweltering lobby on the first floor without looking back.
"Hey, you scoundrel..."
Just as the waiter was about to get angry, he realized that the beggar had thrown money at him. He quickly squatted down, counted the coins, and picked them up, shouting towards the counter, "Two jars of osmanthus wine, please!"
Upon seeing this, the burly thugs guarding the gate let the person in.
The one-armed youth ignored them, stumbled into a corner of the lobby, found an empty bench, and squeezed in without any hesitation. He sat down, swaying precariously. The people next to him quickly got up, afraid of getting their hands dirty, and cursed him for being unlucky.
The table of guests emptied out, leaving grumbling and cursing.
The filthy, tattered young man remained indifferent.
He rested his left arm on his knee, leaned forward, and lowered his head, his long, greasy black hair falling to the ground next to his worn-out shoes.
The young man had wandered here in a daze from a small island in Yunmengze with a peach valley.
I haven't showered for many days, living a life of debauchery and wandering the streets.
He didn't even know where he was.
I don't know if I went south or north.
But he was afraid to go north...
The wine has arrived.
Two pots of familiar osmanthus wine.
The one-armed youth stood with his left foot on a wine jug and held it in his right arm, tilting his head back to drink heartily.
You read that right, it's the "right arm" holding the oval wine jug.
The young man's right forearm was broken, and the sleeve was empty.
But the remaining small section protruding from the cuff is exceptionally flexible and capable of many things, including now holding a huge wine jug and gulping down a drink.
Judging from the looks of it, he had already become quite adept at it.
Of course, except for not being able to wield a sword.
Moreover, the remaining small section of the one-armed youth's right arm was indeed very small, resembling a piece of dead wood from an old tree growing on a vibrant, mature tree.
Compared to the other thick trunk, the left arm, this small section of the right arm is very short.
Clearly, this is the result of a broken arm in childhood, not a new injury.
In a corner on the west side of the lobby, the sight of a man with a severed arm holding a teapot and drinking wine attracted the attention of many tea drinkers on the west side, who marveled at the scene.
The one-armed youth, who was tilting his head back to pour the wine, ignored him, letting the pale yellow, fragrant wine overflow from his mouth and nose, and wash his face and hair.
He had nothing left.
My beloved sword is gone.
The Qi of a mid-level Qi cultivator has been depleted.
His proud and arrogant face was gone.
All that's left for the young man is the alcohol that's being poured into his esophagus and stomach right now.
And then there's the dream of being tossed around, wobbling and swaying.
"A candle in the snow...you're ruthless..."
He seemed to mutter something, but unfortunately choked on the alcohol, coughing violently. His stomach felt like it had been suddenly squeezed flat by a large hand, and all the alcohol was squeezed out, soaking the entire table.
The one-armed youth lay slumped on the table, his dirty face pressed against the surface, occasionally spitting out streams of acidic liquid, like a stranded, dying goldfish.
However, this is just the stomach twitching, a natural physiological reaction.
The surrounding diners and tea drinkers looked at him with disdain and paid no attention to this drunkard. There were many such people every day in the West Market near Penglang Ferry.
The one-armed youth, who was leaning on the table, reached down with his free left hand to retrieve the remaining pot of osmanthus wine. Unfortunately, when he coughed earlier, the wine pot was kicked over by his right foot and rolled far away.
With short arms, how can you possibly get anything?
The young man, his lips turned down, leaned on the table, his profile facing Chang'an, muttering to himself:
"Ugh... wine... my wine... osmanthus wine... Osmanthus mother... Osmanthus mother's wine, osmanthus wine..."
His name is A-Jie, and he is a swordsman.
Coming from Chang'an, heading to Yunmeng Sword Marsh.
He asked the sword in a valley filled with peach blossoms.
Before hundreds of sword cultivators from the ten major sects of the world, he was trampled underfoot and thoroughly humiliated by a female cultivator from Wu and Yue named Xue Zhongzhu.
He was then kicked off the platform like trash, and his sword was confiscated.
They became the target for this Yunmeng Queen, whose sharpness surpassed even the edge of a sword, to establish her prestige and fame.
In a corner of the lobby on the first floor of Yunshui Pavilion, a drunken young man, who had been singing Chang'an folk songs, suddenly muttered to himself:
"...Osmanthus Maiden...Osmanthus Maiden's Osmanthus Wine...Eh...Where's my sword...Where's my sword..."
...
The young magistrate, who had returned to the second-floor window, was unaware that his private savings of copper coins had been exchanged for two jars of Yunshuige's signature Osmanthus Wine.
He returned to the table, and his first words to Yan Liulang were serious:
"We need to expand and renovate the Beitian Aid Home at Donglin Temple. We hope the county government will provide more support, as there are still many homeless and disabled people in Longcheng."
Yan Liulang, who was admiring the beautiful scenery of the ancient ferry at sunset outside the window, was taken aback for a moment, then nodded, "Ah, okay, Your Excellency, I'll go back and contact Donglin Temple."
"Alright, let's not talk about business anymore."
Ouyang Rong nodded, glanced at the dishes spread across the table, picked up a pair of chopsticks, and smiled:
"Don't wait for me, everyone. Eat quickly, take your chopsticks and eat, don't be shy."
Apart from Liu Ashan, who remained silent and obediently picked up his chopsticks to eat, Yan Liulang and Su Dalang looked at each other, the former looking utterly dejected, and said:
"Minister, we just tried it without waiting for you, it's too... too spicy."
The two swallowed hard.
Even if my mouth can stand it, Chrysanthemum won't agree.
Ouyang Rong chuckled, "You're afraid of this little bit of spice? Hey, you guys are no good."
He glanced at the dishes on the table.
Unexpectedly, this Yunshui Pavilion restaurant still has some familiar hometown dishes that I remember.
Ouyang Rong sniffed it; it seemed alright, looking quite presentable, with a perfect combination of color, aroma, and taste.
However, there are no chili peppers in this world; spicy dishes are made with Sichuan peppercorns, black pepper, and other similar ingredients.
So, that's it?
It's just a little bit spicy, nothing to brag about.
"Then you can order a few more light dishes, I'll take care of these."
The young magistrate, whose mouth had become so dry from the past two months, shook his head slightly and gave a curt instruction.
"It's alright, we'll order a mildly spicy dish, Brother Lianghan can eat with us."
Ouyang Rong shook his head, not even lifting his eyelids, completely uninterested:
"My recipes only have extra spicy and non-spicy; mild spicy is just a clever excuse."
"..." Su Dalang and Yan Liulang.
Then, under the awe-inspiring gazes of the three people opposite him, Ouyang Rong casually took a bowl of spicy soup, curled his lips into a smile, and downed it in one gulp.
Hmm, it's time to show off the real skills... Holy crap!
The smile that had been playing on someone's lips suddenly froze.
Yan Liulang, Su Dalang, Liu Ashan, and the guests and maids at the next few tables who had been drawn by Ouyang Rong's domineering speech all watched him intently as he froze.
Ouyang Rong silently put down the half-eaten bowl of spicy soup, exchanged glances with everyone for a while, and quietly swallowed.
His lips trembled slightly, but he tried hard to suppress the throbbing pain in his mouth.
He blinked rapidly, forced a stiff smile, and lowered his voice to speak:
"It's...it's alright, no...it's nothing special."
Then, under the increasingly strange gazes of the crowd, the young magistrate puffed out his cheeks and picked up a few more dishes with his chopsticks. As a result, he became more and more silent as he ate, and in the end, everyone around him could hear hissing gasps.
Just hearing that sound made the onlookers' mouths water and their tongues burn.
"Maybe we should just forget about it..."
Yan Liulang and the others hesitated to speak, but Ouyang Rong glared at them before they shut up.
Ouyang Rong, still not believing in bad luck, picked up a few more bites, but as he ate more, he couldn't help but turn his head, his voice a little hoarse, and said:
"Someone, bring... bring some cold rice."
"..." The crowd.
Ouyang Rong turned around, forcing a smile, "Let's order a few plates of mildly spicy food instead, for you... you guys eat."
Yan Liulang, Su Dalang, and the others quickly nodded and went to call the maids to add more dishes.
Ouyang Rong slapped away the cup of warm water that Yan Liulang had so eagerly offered, glared at him, and then took a sip of the cold water from the water bag that Ashan carried with him.
The young magistrate, who had just added another flavor to the menu, breathed a sigh of relief.
He looked at the dishes on the table with a complicated expression. Goodness, the chef at Yunshuilou is something else.
It turned out that he was a worthy opponent.
Before long, the new mildly spicy dish was finally delivered.
Everyone picked up their chopsticks again.
Hmm, this is Nanlong hometown cuisine... Could it be someone from the same hometown?
Once they had recovered from their shock, Ouyang Rong and Yan Liulang ate with relish, secretly thinking to themselves.
After everyone had finished their meal, Ouyang Rong was the first to put down his chopsticks. Just as he was about to exchange pleasantries, his body suddenly stiffened slightly, and he couldn't help but look around, his expression seemingly puzzled...
However, he quickly composed himself, picked up his chopsticks again, and stared silently at the half-eaten plate of leftovers in front of him.
Yan Liulang and Su Dalang, who were engrossed in eating, did not notice anything amiss.
Only Liu Ashan turned to look at the old man, who was behaving slightly strangely, but the taciturn man seemed to be particularly used to him being lost in thought while eating, and looked away.
Only Ouyang Rong knew that he wasn't in a daze at the moment, but rather... he was a little conflicted and troubled.
Because there's a vibrating egg in my mind... no, it's the blessing clock that's started vibrating again.
It's a new blessing!
Moreover, the way the purple phantom was rolling around and the extent of the bell's trembling and groaning were much more intense than last time.
It looks like a lot of merit points were consumed...
Here I am! Sorry I couldn't help but write a little too much, so it's a bit late... *cough* Shamelessly asking for your votes. Goodnight everyone!
(End of this chapter)
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