Husband, Have Dinner

Buckle buckle--

The people outside the door knocked three times quickly, and seemed to have exhausted their patience and pushed the door in. It was the fat monk A Yao saw by the stream!

He held the tray, lifted the door with his foot, and closed the door.

"Little girl...little donor, I heard the host say, pitiful, I made porridge with pickles, you can stay here and wait for your parents." He said, he put the tray on the table.

The smile of the fat monk was much better than that of the middle-aged monk.

A Yao had a better impression of him, put his hands together and sent him out. She uncovered the tureen, the hot porridge, the aroma penetrated her nose and made her stomach scream, but she didn't have the urge to move the chopsticks.

There are only two monks in the huge temple?

Along the way, there was no sound of chanting except for the whispers of birds in the mountains!

It's as if this is not a temple at all!

The man in the cassock had his eyes straight and banditry; although the fat monk looked like Amitabha, how could a monk break into the pilgrim's room and close the door for food delivery? That kick must be his habit, a small movement for a long time.

The temple was calm, but it was weird everywhere, and A Yao didn't dare to eat what they gave.

It didn't take long before there was movement outside, she slipped out the door, and walked along with the sound. The originally clean and remote Renguang Temple suddenly became full of people, as if they had agreed to come to the door to worship the gods.

The fat monk stood in front of the temple to welcome the pilgrims, while the middle-aged monk in cassock sat cross-legged on the futon in front of the Daxiong Hall, his eyes closed slightly, and he whispered as if he was chanting the Great Compassion Mantra.

There were a dozen futons in the courtyard, and some people were sitting on them one after another. In a flash, those who came late could only stand behind or on either side, and simply sit on the ground without particular attention.

Are they opening a forum?

Ayao did not understand it for a while, but the people below listened with gusto, and nodded thoughtfully from time to time. She was puzzled, and the farmers understood? No, how does she feel that the monk's words are obscure and incomprehensible? Could it be that people in this era generally have a higher level of education?

Unexpectedly, she was so hungry that she went to the kitchen to see if there was anything left.

This temple is very small, and Ayao found the back door easily. There are vegetable gardens on both sides of the door. The cabbage on the ridge is growing very well, and it seems to be well taken care of.

There is a path at the back door extending into the bamboo forest, I don’t know where it leads to.

The condition of the vegetable garden somewhat dispelled A Yao's worries, and came to the kitchen lightly. There was still some porridge cooked on the stove, and some pickles were taken out of the urn on the case.

This pickled vegetable is not flattering. There are flies flying around on it, and I don't know how to pickle it. Since the smell of the pickled vegetable, her stomach never screamed, but it made her appetite.

"Oh my God, they just eat this stuff, I'd rather just eat porridge!" A Yao pinched her nose to search around in the kitchen, "Tsk tsk, fat chicken legs, these two monks can't avoid the vulgarity, no wonder the fat head and big ears." She is not half interested in the fat meat that is so greasy that only white flowers are left, and she even hates the chicken drumsticks that are put together with the fat.

Finally, I found several jars of pickles in the corner and found that spring is not old. Her eyes glowed "Wow~ good stuff!"

Just thinking of this name is full of energy.

The Chun Bu Lao that A Yao discovered was actually pickled dried radish, not potherb mustard.

There are a dozen radishes on the side that are tied into a handful. They are hidden between the green tassels and the soil, revealing bright red peels and small white jade radishes. This is the Yanghua radish. The monks in the temple will pickle the Yanghua radish as a refreshment.

If you want to come to spring and never grow old, it is made with poplar radish.

Right now...

Just as the spring is not old, A Yao gobbles up a bowl of porridge and eats it down. It is not enough, and she licks the bowl clean.

The Yanghua radish pickled with salt was slightly sweet in the salty, and it was crispy and tender when bitten. She couldn't help but eat one more bowl.

After meeting the needs of the mouth and stomach, I remembered that there was a bowl of porridge and a small plate of pickles waiting in the wing.

This is embarrassing.

She persuaded herself, "I haven't moved it, and there is a lid covered, and there is no dirt, or I put the porridge back into the pot, so that no food will be wasted."

When she returned to the wing, the previous forum was not over. The lecture was over and it was her turn to speak freely. She heard a lot of people arguing. The high voice, the voice wishing to break through the clouds, could imagine that there should be a crowd of people arguing in front. Blushing, red ears and thick neck.

Pour the porridge back into the pot and stir. The pickles were exposed to the air and chopped up again, so they couldn't be put back in the urn, so I found a place to bury them.

Just after Ayao finished finishing, she rolled up her sleeves to wash the dishes, but found a small bottle of powdered medicine lying beside the hearth of the stove. She picked it up, poured it, and it was already empty.

There is a trace of white powder on the side of the table, unlike salt.

"..."

The pilgrims left, and some people went to the temple to ask for a visa. The middle-aged monk could not leave. The fat monk went to the kitchen to warm the porridge when he was free, scooped a large pot, took out the hidden chicken legs, and sniffed deeply. With an intoxicated and satisfying look, he put it on the large plate, and finally chopped up the pickles on the case and put them on the plate, and brought them to their room together.

"I'm starving, brother, let's eat first." The fat monk took the big bowl and poured it into his mouth.

The middle-aged monk on the opposite side picked up the bowl and chopsticks, put it down again, and asked, "How is that girl now?"

"Don't worry, the medicine is very powerful. I passed by the wing and took a look. She slept soundly in the bed and probably won't be able to wake up tonight." The fat monk didn't bother.

Only then did the middle-aged monk relieved his heart and gobbled it up, then picked up the chicken leg to bite. The fat monk looked at his chicken leg and swallowed, feeling that he was still not full, and then took a bowl full of food and swallowed it.

"Brother, I'll go to sleep for a while." The fat monk rubbed his round belly and yawned, climbed onto the shop and spread it into a big font, snoring loudly.

"Dead pig! It's useless except for eating and sleeping!" The middle-aged monk cursed, suddenly feeling sleepy, and fell asleep.

A Yao didn't know how much time her actions would buy for her. She fled from the back door, bypassing the secluded stone steps of the bamboo forest, and returned to the stream with the cover of vegetation.

She found a cool place to catch her breath and calmed her breathing. She felt dry and licked her lips. "Did the unknown powder occur?" Without taking a break, she dragged her sour legs, lit a fire, boiled water, poured water on her stomach, hid in the grass, watched the surrounding environment vigilantly, and paid attention to the state of her body.

Confirming that there was nothing wrong with her body, she continued to set off.

The day is thinning, and the people are fascinated.

"I finally came out!" A Yao wept with joy, rushing to where the smoke was.

The sleeping middle-aged monk also woke up, his brain hurts, he reached out his hand and swelled up a bag, and the fat monk's snoring continued.

He kicked it violently until he kicked the fat monk awake, "Get me up!"

"Brother...Huh, it's dark?" The fat monk was startled, his eyes blurred, obviously he still didn't understand.

"Trash, we're talking! The rabbit hits in, let you go foolish!" the monk scolded, "You go and send a message, saying that we ran one, maybe we will go to them, let them Pay attention to whether there are 5 or 6-year-old girls in the past few days."

The eyes of the middle-aged monk are as fierce as a wolf dog, without any mercy.

The fat monk shivered involuntarily and nodded to follow suit.

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