Chapter 23 — Vegetarian Restaurant Behind the Temple Gate

At six o'clock in the morning on the day of the Kindness Rice Bowl Festival, the sky in Ben Truc town was rare and clear, as if months of heavy rain had finally given way to a sunny day just when it was needed most. The mist was still thinly spread on the surface of the lotus pond in front of Tinh Lien Pagoda's yard when Yen Nhi and Mrs. Cam Thi Nu were present early, displaying dozens of large pots along a long row of tables under the roof of the Thien Tam bamboo pavilion that had been built over the past few days. Steam rose from the first pot of white rice, mixed with the smell of greasy steamed sticky rice that Mrs. Nu had woken up at three in the morning to prepare, the fragrant smell of braised tofu with pepper, and the smell of Yen Nhi's sour soup with chopsticks placed on the biggest stove, exactly the same as the taste she had cooked just for her mother the night before.

By seven o'clock, the first guests had sporadically arrived - not only familiar Buddhists, but also young families who had never stepped foot in the temple grounds before, old people with canes from far away working villages, and even a few groups of curious high school students who invited each other to watch the "vegetarian rice festival" that friends talked about on social networks after Che Hoai Nam's article was widely shared over the past two days. By eight o'clock, the temple yard was filled with people, the sounds of conversation, the sound of children laughing, the sound of wind chimes hanging under the tent's roof jingling together, creating a lively sound that this normally quiet yard had never had in anyone's memory.

The Chairman of the Town Committee, in a neat white shirt, arrived on time and shook Mr. Nhan Duc Phong's hand tightly before being invited to the small yard set up as a speech space, next to an old loudspeaker borrowed by Che Hoai Nam from the neighborhood cultural house. At the same time, another four-seater car parked at the beginning of Bodhi Tree Alley, and from the car stepped out a slender monk with a solemn yellow shirt, sent to represent the higher-level Buddhist Sangha Executive Committee according to the official invitation Che Hoai Nam sent out a week ago. Venerable Thich Tue Thong personally came to the gate to welcome him, his hands clasped in front of his chest, his head bowed low, a hint of tension flashed across his face that he could not hide.

Yen Nhi, standing behind the kitchen table, glanced at the familiar figure of Sai Trong Phat appearing not long after, this time without the usual straight suit and confident smile, but wearing a more simple shirt, as if he had carefully considered how to appear to suit the atmosphere of the festival. He stood silently at the edge of the yard for a long time, observing, arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning each row of tables, each smiling and talking face, as if trying to calculate something that he himself was not sure about.

The meal distribution begins at nine o'clock. Yen Nhi, Ms. Nu, Ms. On Bich Ha and the kitchen assistants stood along the table, scooping portions of rice, soup, sticky rice, and sweet soup and handed them to each person, regardless of who was rich or poor, who knew or who was a stranger. After finishing eating, an old man came back to ask for another bowl of soup, whispering to Yen Nhi that it had been a long time since he had eaten such a "soulful" bowl of sour soup. There was a child about five or six years old, holding a bowl of lotus seed sweet soup, running around the yard laughing loudly, causing Ms. On Bich Ha to stand still and watch for a long time, her eyes were red but her lips were still smiling.

At ten o'clock, the program moved to the part everyone was most looking forward to - the townspeople's sharing about the meaning of the shop and the pagoda in their lives, led by Che Hoai Nam with a microphone connected to a speaker. Mr. Lanh Van Dat was the first person to step up, his gait was slightly stooped but steady, his hands trembling as he held the microphone.

"I'm seventy years old. I've lived here since I was little." he began, his voice hoarse but echoing clearly throughout the yard. "It's been twelve years since my wife passed away. For the past twelve years, I've stopped by An Tam restaurant every week to eat a bowl of mugwort mushroom soup, my grandmother's favorite dish when she was alive. I'm not good at talking, but I know one thing - if this restaurant disappears, if this pagoda is built into something shiny and luxurious, then the only place I can still sit and miss my wife every week will also be lost." He stopped, his voice choked a bit, and the whole temple yard fell silent. "I'm old, I have nothing to lose, I just hope they let me keep this bowl of soup for a few more years, until I can no longer walk here."

Applause rang out and someone quickly wiped their eyes. Ms. On Bich Ha stepped up next, holding the microphone tightly as if holding something precious.

"My son died when he was eight years old." she said, her voice shaking but clear. "For three years now, every time I miss him, I come here and eat a bowl of longan and lotus seed soup, his favorite dish. There are days when I think I won't be able to survive that sadness, but it's in this temple yard, this small shop, that I find a reason to get up every morning." She looked around the crowd, her eyes stopped for a moment where Yen Nhi was standing silently behind the kitchen table. "This place is not land, not a few rows of old houses for people to value and then build something new. This place is a place to keep those who have gone far away, with very ordinary bowls of rice. Please don't take it away."

After Ms. On Bich Ha, many other people also stepped up to share - a familiar motorbike taxi driver told the story of being fed by the restaurant during several months of unemployment without ever being harshly collected for debt; two elderly Buddhist women talked about early chanting sessions under the ancient Bodhi tree that nourished their spirit through many life events; A middle-aged man, unknown to anyone, introduced himself as a former student whose tuition was helped by monk Thich Giac Vien in the past. He is now successful and came all the way from a far away province just to say thank you. Each story, though different, revolves around the same thing — this place is not just a place, but a part of the living memories of so many people.

Che Hoai Nam, still holding the camera in his hand, crept around the yard to record every moment, occasionally stopping to quickly interview a few residents and guests from afar. Two reporters from the provincial television station, invited by him in advance, were also present, the camera pointed straight at the small stage, live recording the scene of Mr. Lanh Van Dat wiping his tears, the scene of Ms. On Bich Ha embracing a strange woman who had just lost her child a few years ago, the two of them hugging and crying in the middle of a crowded temple yard.

Yen Nhi stood silently behind the table, her hands still lapping up the soup, but her heart was filled with an emotion that was hard to name - both moved by what she was witnessing and clearly feeling something shifting in the air, as if the whole town of Ben Truc, one by one, was realizing at the same time how long it had taken them to understand the true value of this place.

Sai Trong Phat still stood at the edge of the yard the whole time, neither leaving nor coming closer. At one point Yen Nhi caught his eyes lingering for a long time on Mr. Lanh Van Dat's face while the old man was telling a story, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, an expression unlike the calm and professional look he had maintained in previous meetings. At one point, he took out his phone, intending to call someone, but then put it back in his pocket and stood still, looking at it again.

Near noon, when two television reporters approached him to ask for an interview, he seemed confused for a moment before accepting, standing in front of the camera with a less confident smile than usual.

"Dai Phu Khang Group has always respected community values," he said, his voice still professional but with something of a pause mid-sentence, "and we... we recognize that what is happening today is a testament to the people's deep affection for this place." He paused for a longer beat than necessary, his eyes scanning the crowd that was still applauding after the sharing of another old lady who had just stepped off the stage. "We will consider the next steps more carefully."

That answer, although still maintaining the familiar diplomatic tone, lacked the certainty that he had shown in the official meeting to present the project to the Housekeeping Committee many weeks ago. Standing nearby, Lang Thien Tam, carrying a tray of vegetarian hemp leaf cakes from the kitchen to greet guests, also heard that sentence. He glanced at Yen Nhi, the two exchanged a brief but meaningful look - both realized that for the first time since Sai Trong Phat appeared in this town, he had revealed a gap, however small, in his always discreet confidence.

At noon, while everyone was still gathering to eat, drink, and chat under the shade of the bamboo pavilion roof, little monk Nho ran out of the temple and whispered something into Venerable Thich Tue Thong's ear. Teacher Tue Thong's face suddenly changed color, then he hurriedly walked inside, leaving Yen Nhi and a few people standing nearby to watch. A vague premonition suddenly arose in his heart that this afternoon, this festival, had not yet come to its true end.