With slender and skilled fingers strumming upon the sturdy strings, a deep and slow hymn sounded from the wooden zither in the hands of a young air nomad whose eyes closed in pure focus.  His head swayed a little to the staccato before he ascended the crescendo and finale, earning a jolly hum of appreciation from the teahouse's patrons.  The Red Bean stood near the intersection of a busy road in Republic City, and amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, the middle-class families often come to enjoy a pot of tea and fried rice at a cheap price.  Of course, they offered more than these two, but within the menu, these were the cheapest.  The teahouse was not at all big:  it was just a one-story building, roughly the size of three cars with open windows and a wide double-door that is always left open.

"Chen!"  a voice called out from the kitchen, prompting the air nomad to turn his head in its direction.  "Come here for a second, dear!"

Kunchen smiled before putting away his zither, hoisting it on his shoulder before he sauntered off towards the kitchen.  Lian Zhi, an elderly woman whose greying hair dangled in front of her face, greeted the lad with a warm hug.  "What do you need, grandmother?"  Kunchen tilted his head in inquiry, addressing this stranger-and-a-day as if they were family.

"Ah, well, I really appreciate your music,"  Lian Zhi praised the young monk.  "A lot of customers were drawn here because of it.  But..."  she paused, unsure on how to say her request.  At the sudden lapse, Kunchen bowed a bit to the old woman as if urging her to tell him.  "Well, we lack kitchen staff, you see.  With this number of patrons, we lack power in the kitchen."

The monk placed a gentle hand on the woman's left shoulder as he assured her of his assistance.  "I decided to help your place today, grandmother.  Command, and I obey."  Kunchen grinned before trotting off to the kitchen where he washed his hands before going over to the staff, asking a few details on where the ingredients are and what are the popular dishes.  A few minutes passed before the monk got a hold of the protocols as he dashed off to one of the stoves, placing a pan over it before heating a cup of olive oil.  "Tuna Pasta for four?"  Kunchen mumbled before taking a look at the boiling water inside a large pot.  "Well, let's finish this."

With the pasta softened after ten minutes, Kunchen sautéed garlic, tuna, and some liquid seasonings, creating a sauce which he poured over the pasta, coating and mixing it after.  Finally, the pasta was done.  Kunchen hopped to the counter, ringing the bell which signaled for the waiter to serve the dishes.  However, when he saw Lian Zhi taking the plates before hobbling towards the customers, Kunchen immediately took over the task of serving the food.  It's always been like this for the past month.  Kunchen randomly selects an establishment and helps out wherever he can, and takes food and some other supplies as payment, never money (unless the owner shoves it up his face).

As he finished the first batch of orders, Kunchen stood at the door of the establishment, letting out a deep sigh which broke his weary smile for a brief second.  Crimson and cerulean eyes gazed onward at the busy street, but it wasn't to the extravagant cars and luxurious robes that people possessed that Kunchen paused.  No, it was the sight of a child being held together by dad and mom that Kunchen became thoroughly enthralled with memories of a family he never had.  And, yet, here he was, searching for them, or whatever remained of them.  "All life is sacred,"  he mumbled the famous air nomad mantra before leaning on the doorway and continuing to serenade the customers with a melody stemming from a heart that was never loved like a child should have been.