AGN -Chapter 108 A Reality Check

Zheng Siyuan was a man of action.

Chen Yingjun was a man of action as well.

The next day, the two action-oriented men met at Yunzhong Canteen.

The apartment that Zheng Da had bought for Zheng Siyuan in the neighboring community was fully furnished—he just needed to move in with his luggage. Once settled, Zheng Siyuan headed straight to Yunzhong Canteen to find Qin Huai.

Not to work, but to find out exactly what this “big order” was. The details hadn’t been made clear over WeChat. He also planned to check Qin Huai’s skills in making broth on the spot, for Huang Shengli and Zheng Da.

When Zheng Siyuan arrived, Chen Yingjun, Chen Huirong, and Qin Huai were all gathered at one table drinking broth. The canteen had no idle elderly patrons; everyone knew Qin Huai was conducting business today and had quietly gone elsewhere.

“Siyuan, you’re here!” Qin Huai stood up quickly. “Should I pour you a bowl of broth?”

Zheng Siyuan nodded. Qin Huai went to the kitchen to serve the soup, while Chen Huirong greeted him warmly.

“Master Zheng, long time no see! I couldn’t believe it when Xiao Qin said you were coming for a visit. Everyone’s been looking forward to seeing you! This is my brother, Chen Yingjun. If you don’t mind, you can call him Brother Jun.”

Chen Yingjun immediately stood up. “Master Zheng, I’m a huge fan of yours! I even had my assistant buy from your Suzhou pastry shop—don’t know if you remember—but I ordered 40 jin of crisp pastries at once!”

Zheng Siyuan: …

“I remember,” he said with some effort.

It would have been hard not to remember.

After some polite small talk, Chen Huirong briefly explained the specifics of the “big order,” and Qin Huai brought the broth to the table.

Zheng Siyuan lifted his bowl, stirred it lightly, seemingly checking its clarity, and then tasted it.

“Your control over heat has improved a lot. This broth actually tastes even better than it looked on video,” Zheng Siyuan praised generously. “You skimmed the foam very cleanly, but the high heat might have been applied a little too long, so the broth isn’t completely clear. Even when making non-clear broths, the cleanliness is a key factor affecting both taste and mouthfeel. Still, this is far better than the chicken broth you made before.”

Chen Yingjun looked puzzled, clearly unsure why Master Zheng was giving a mini-lesson after a single sip.

Zheng Siyuan simply explained briefly, then put down his bowl and looked seriously at Chen Yingjun. “Mr. Chen, I understand your requirements clearly. I’d like to ask—do you have specific demands for the three-tiered pastry gift boxes?”

“No, I trust both Master Zheng and Master Qin completely,” Chen Yingjun said, almost wearing the words I’m the rare perfect client on his face.

“Since the boxes are in three tiers, the basic tier could have standard pastries, the middle tier could include lotus seed pastries, and the premium tier could feature mian guo’er (flour fruits), how does that sound?” Zheng Siyuan suggested.

“Mian guo’er?” Chen Yingjun’s expression mirrored Chen Huirong’s confusion from yesterday.

“It’s a type of pastry with many shapes. I happen to be making it today. If you don’t mind waiting a few hours, you can watch. These will just be the basic versions.”

“Today… let’s just do apples,” Zheng Siyuan said, already preparing to work—proving he was indeed a man of action.

Chen Yingjun glanced at Chen Huirong, who gave him a look that said: Don’t ask questions, just wait to taste it. Why else would I have brought you here today?

He understood.

They moved chairs by the window to watch while Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan changed and entered the kitchen.

Qin Huai had prepared all the ingredients the night before; Zheng Siyuan had even listed them out.

Zheng Siyuan began kneading the dough while Qin Huai sat on a small stool, watching.

“Honestly, I really don’t recommend you start learning mian guo’er now,” Zheng Siyuan said. “If it’s just for Luoluo to eat, I can make her a few, and she’ll realize that they’re not that impressive. The novelty wears off quickly.”

“Ah, is mian guo’er not tasty?” Qin Huai was shocked.

“It’s not that it’s bad; it’s that my dad and I didn’t do it well,” Zheng Siyuan explained.

Under his skilled hands, the dough quickly took shape. He kneaded and rolled, with more rolling than kneading—a fixed process passed down.

“Mian guo’er requires imagination,” Zheng Siyuan said.

“I know, you mentioned it yesterday,” Qin Huai nodded. “The shapes are varied. How intricate and beautiful they can be depends mainly on the chef’s imagination and aesthetic sense.”

“Not just the shapes,” Zheng Siyuan shook his head. “The taste is equally demanding. Whether a mian guo’er is impressive also relies heavily on the chef’s creativity.”

Qin Huai: ?

“Take this simple apple, for example. A successful apple mian guo’er looks like an apple, when cut inside it resembles an apple, it tastes like apple, and even smells like apple. Only then is it qualified.”

“The appearance is easy to replicate, the aroma can be done, but the taste is hard to guarantee.”

“To make the apple-flavored filling, you have to mix apple puree or juice into the dough. But after steaming, does it still taste like apple?”

“Simply kneading apple into the dough won’t make the interior color look right when cut.”

“If you use traditional jujube paste, how does it taste like apple at all?”

“Apples, bananas, walnuts—all the same. And there are kiwis, peaches, lychees…”

“Traditional fruit or vegetable mian guo’er are difficult to perfect in taste.”

“Even harder are creations like ‘Spring Bamboo,’ ‘Phoenix Ascending,’ and ‘Leaping Carp.’ How do you make it taste like fish? Or Phoenix? Making these pastries both logical and astonishing relies entirely on the chef’s imagination and creativity.”

“That’s why neither my dad nor I can make mian guo’er well. We just follow formulas left by the master. What the master did, my dad did. What my dad did, I do.”

“In Master Huang’s words, if a school only passes down its craft formulaically from one generation to the next, each generation will decline, and more skills will be lost until the school fades away.”

Qin Huai was slightly overwhelmed.

This was beyond his scope—a level of mastery far beyond his self-taught abilities.

“Even with the formula, it’s hard to control how much the dough expands during steaming. And for better shaping, the dough is kneaded slightly hard, affecting the texture. Compensating for this during later steps also tests the chef’s imagination.”

“According to the master’s formula, our apple mian guo’er filling is jujube paste mixed with yam and apple juice. It tastes like apple without affecting the overall balance.”

Zheng Siyuan started mixing the filling.

“Normally, using jujube filling is the easiest way to replicate flavors,” he explained.

Qin Huai took note.

Once the filling was ready, Zheng Siyuan divided the dough into small portions, rolled them thick, and began filling them.

He didn’t just make them himself—he gave half of the dough to Qin Huai.

“Make them round, shaped like apples. Imagine what an apple looks like and try to replicate it,” Zheng Siyuan instructed. “Even just practicing this will help your technique.”

Qin Huai held the dough, realizing for the first time how little imagination he truly had.

Uh, what does an apple look like again?

Round.

Round, right?

Seeing Qin Huai hesitate, Zheng Siyuan smiled and demonstrated one.

No extra tools—just a simple roll, pinch, and small thumb marks—and a small dough ball, vaguely apple-shaped, was formed.

“The dough’s final shape after steaming doesn’t require imagination; experience is enough.”

Qin Huai mimicked the process—roll, pinch, small thumb marks, slight shaping.

Not a perfect apple, but very similar to Zheng Siyuan’s example.

Zheng Siyuan: ?

They continued forming pastries.

Midway, Zheng Siyuan even shaped the apple stems—attention to detail was meticulous.

They steamed the pastries.

Qin Huai stayed by the pot, watching closely.

Zheng Siyuan stood nearby, observing him with a complex expression.

“Wait, you really… never learned this before?” Zheng Siyuan seemed incredulous.

“Nope. I didn’t even know what mian guo’er was until I saw it in a novel in college.”

Zheng Siyuan felt a bit disheartened.

He even considered booking a flight back, since the pastry shop hadn’t started renovations.

“Do you know how long it takes a normal chef to master this technique, even by imitation?”

“How long?” Qin Huai asked curiously.

“Two to three years.”

Zheng Siyuan looked at Qin Huai, leaving one thing unsaid:

You seem to have learned it in two to three minutes.

Though not fully trained, he didn’t look like a beginner at all.

Zheng Siyuan began to understand why his father was so eager to take Qin Huai as an apprentice—he even bought a house in the neighboring community despite knowing it might be hopeless.

He almost wanted to.

Qin Huai lacked creativity, but his imitation skills were extraordinary.

The mian guo’er came out of the steamer.

The steamed pastries had puffed up a full circle. The apple shape was barely visible before, but now they looked remarkably apple-like.

“Now comes the last step: coloring,” Zheng Siyuan said, putting aside thoughts of taking him as an apprentice.

“All coloring uses natural pigments: cocoa for brown, beet juice for red, spinach juice for green. Of course, purple yam, purple sweet potato, carrots, and yellow fruit can also be used.”

“Again, it all depends on the chef’s imagination.”

“To get the exact color, trial and error is needed. I do have a fixed formula left by the master.”

Zheng Siyuan mixed a batch of beet juice to match the formula and gave half to Qin Huai, picking up a brush.

Coloring techniques vary: brushing for finesse, hand smearing, even dipping or rolling the entire pastry if necessary.

Zheng Siyuan began coloring the pastries. Qin Huai knew this was the true test of an artistic foundation.

Did he have any artistic training?

No. Otherwise, he’d have earned that 100,000 yuan himself.

Qin Huai held a pastry in one hand, brush in the other, beet juice at the ready.

After a moment’s thought, he quietly moved a couple of steps closer to Zheng Siyuan, peeking at his technique.

Zheng Siyuan: …

Zheng Siyuan brushed; Qin Huai brushed.

Zheng Siyuan dipped; Qin Huai dipped.

Outside, Chen Yingjun noticed and whispered, “Why is Master Qin always copying Master Zheng? Whatever he does, Master Qin does too.”

“Mind your own business,” Chen Huirong said.

After some time, a perfectly realistic apple was completed by Zheng Siyuan.

Two minutes later, Qin Huai also produced a nearly indistinguishable apple.

Zheng Siyuan: … ?

Qin Huai: !

Though slightly different in shape, the result was excellent.

Zheng Siyuan looked at Qin Huai. “You really never learned this?”

“No,” Qin Huai shook his head. “But I don’t know why—it felt natural. I’ve rarely felt this smooth when learning a dish.”

Zheng Siyuan put down his pastry and went to wash his hands, checking his phone.

An hour ago, his father Zheng Da had sent a WeChat message.

Dad: Siyuan, how’s it going? Did Xiao Qin get a reality check? Just make the apple mian guo’er he’s best at, and let him learn by watching you. He needs to see the comparison and understand that mastering technique isn’t instant. The priority now is mastering the heat control.

Dad: Don’t aim too high too fast. Heat control is more important than anything. Technique can be learned later.

Dad: So? Has he been properly humbled?

Zheng Siyuan replied silently.

Zheng Siyuan: No, he’s pretty happy.

Zheng Siyuan: I’m a bit humbled myself.

Zheng Siyuan: [Picture]

Zheng Siyuan: Dad, which apple is his? Which is mine?

Dad: ???