AGN -Chapter 110 Old Qin Master’s Reputation Takes a Hit

After Zhang Shumei took the apple mian guo’er away, Luo Jun soon sent a five-star review to Zheng Siyuan via WeChat.

After returning from school, Qin Luo successfully got to eat the now fully cooled—and slightly altered—apple mian guo’er, enthusiastically giving it a “15-star review.”

She posted on Moments three times, each time giving a five-star review.

At the same time, in the absence of both Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan, she boldly claimed she wanted to recognize Zheng Siyuan as her “older brother,” and that Qin Huai should reluctantly step down to become the second brother.

After all, her “second brother” hadn’t been making many delicious dishes lately—only making promises.

The next morning, Qin Luo paid the price for her bold words—she could only eat vegetable buns made by Qin Congwen.

Even meat buns were off-limits.

Buns made by Chen An were also off-limits.

And Zheng Siyuan’s wontons? Not even worth thinking about.

“Bro, I was wrong, bro! I really was wrong!” Qin Luo said tearfully while biting into a vegetable bun—her words full of emotion but lacking any technique.

“Stop saying you were wrong. Mom said your weekly test didn’t go well either, so it’s good for you to eat lighter in the morning and focus on a healthy diet,” Qin Huai said coldly, handing her a tea egg. “Hurry up and go, or you’ll miss the bus.”

Knowing she wouldn’t get any five-spice or three-filling buns, Qin Luo stopped pretending to cry. She took the tea egg, rolled it quickly on the table, peeled it in seconds, and devoured it in one bite. After that, she gulped down a bowl of soy milk to wash it down.

“Bro, when I come back this afternoon, can I still have those… face fruits?” she asked.

“Those are called mian guo’er,” Qin Huai replied irritably, stuffing a box of cut fruit into her hands. “Don’t worry, you won’t miss out.”

“Alright!” Qin Luo happily went off to school.

Qin Huai continued shaping red bean buns.

After yesterday’s successful first attempt, Qin Huai felt he had a real talent for hand techniques—he considered himself a rather ordinary genius in this area, and his enthusiasm for learning soared. Today, he made a bold decision that went against tradition:

No molds for animal-shaped red bean buns—he would shape them entirely by hand.

The results, however, were not great.

Technically speaking, Qin Huai felt that animal-shaped buns were far easier than mian guo’er, but when actually making them, his results were far inferior to using molds.

It didn’t feel right.

He didn’t experience the same smooth, intuitive flow he had when making mian guo’er.

Meanwhile, Zheng Siyuan silently wrapped wontons. Watching Qin Huai struggle with the animal buns like a beginner made him feel much more balanced internally.

Neatly shaped wontons came to life in Zheng Siyuan’s hands one after another, catching the attention of Chen An, who watched with wide eyes.

Although Qin Huai’s pastry skills were excellent, he didn’t have many “flourishes.” His movements were practical and smooth, especially when kneading dough. But Zheng Siyuan was different—watching him wrap wontons was mesmerizing.

His hands moved, flipped, folded—and in the blink of an eye, a delicate wonton landed in the bowl.

Combined with his usual expressionless, slightly absent-minded demeanor, the whole scene looked effortlessly impressive.

Chen An couldn’t help but subconsciously imitate him.

“Xiao Chen, stop copying,” Zhao Rong, experienced and observant, said. “You won’t be able to learn it.”

“Sister Zhao,” Chen An nodded while still watching Zheng Siyuan’s hands, “is Master Zheng… an employee here before? Why does everyone seem to know him?”

“He’s Qin Huai’s friend—an online acquaintance,” Zhao Rong explained while wrapping buns.

Before Zheng Siyuan arrived, Zhao Rong would spend this time wrapping wontons. After he came, her wontons didn’t sell as well anymore—after all, the number of breakfast customers in the canteen was limited, and wonton demand was limited too.

“Before, Qin Huai was trying to make some kind of steamed bun but couldn’t get it right. Master Zheng and his father, Zheng Da, came over for a while to exchange knowledge. After Qin Huai finally succeeded, they left. Sometimes I really can’t understand what Qin Huai is thinking—he spent so much effort on that bun, and then stopped making it after mastering it. I don’t know what all that practice was for,” Zhao Rong shook her head.

Chen An didn’t care much. In his view, the boss must have his reasons.

“Sister Zhao, I also heard that yesterday afternoon Master Zheng made a pastry that looked exactly like an apple. Qin Luo thought it was a real apple until she picked it up—is that true?” Chen An asked.

“Of course it’s true. Didn’t you add Qin Luo on WeChat? Oh right, you came later.”

“Honestly, Qin Huai is something else. I heard from Master Zheng that he came specifically this time to teach Qin Huai how to make that pastry. Even though Master Zheng isn’t short on money and has his own shop in Suzhou, he still came all this way. I think Qin Huai could’ve just learned it online—what couldn’t be taught via video? Why make someone travel all the way here? That’s really… hey!”

“Master Zheng, are the wontons in the pot ready? Can I have a bowl first? I haven’t eaten all morning and I’m already starving.”

Qin Congwen quickly chimed in, “Ah, I feel a bit hungry too. Master Zheng, can I have a bowl as well?”

Before Chen An could react, thinking that Brother Qin and Sister Zhao were unusually hungry today, the two had already started eating.

Two bowls of “bubble wontons,” with plump wontons floating adorably in the soup.

The broth was the stock Qin Huai had prepared the day before. While not as rich as Zheng Da’s, it was more than sufficient for wontons.

The soup was fresh and flavorful, the wrappers thin and the filling generous. With scallions and dried shrimp sprinkled on top, a gentle stir with the spoon—

Slurp.

Zhao Rong and Qin Congwen began their meal.

Qin Huai also began his meal.

He couldn’t make bubble wontons himself yet—making them properly would require dedicated practice in wonton wrappers. With everything he needed to learn lately, he simply didn’t have the time. So he could only enjoy them when Zheng Siyuan was around.

“Siyuan, it’s really a shame you don’t open a breakfast shop,” Qin Huai said while eating. “Your wonton-wrapping skills are amazing.”

Zheng Siyuan: …

Was there a possibility… that he was actually a pastry chef specializing in flour-based dishes?

Zheng Siyuan glanced at Qin Huai, who still considered himself a breakfast shop owner.

Forget it—there was no reasoning with someone so committed to breakfast.

Even though Qin Huai claimed he didn’t like waking up early, his body was very honest—he got up at 4 a.m. every day to work.

Zheng Siyuan, who woke up at 6 a.m., yawned.

If he ever stopped running his pastry shop, he decided he would find a job that starts at noon and involves making pastries.

After finishing the wontons, Qin Huai returned to shaping red bean buns.

That day, customers who came as usual to Yunzhong Canteen to buy the cute animal-shaped red bean buns all had the same question in their minds:

Was the mold broken today?

Why do the animal buns look worse than before?

Were these made by Old Qin Master?