AGN -Chapter 115 Taste of Memory 2

During a break, Qin Huai curled up in a corner and opened the game interface to check the task.

Side Quest:

2. [Taste of Memory 2]: At the moment Qu Jing bit into the dough snack specially saved for her by Qin Luo, a familiar feeling suddenly welled up in her heart. It seemed that many years ago, in her already forgotten, blurred memories, there had also been someone who would specifically save her favorite snacks for her.

Unfortunately, Qu Jing does not know who that person is, nor does she remember what that snack looked like or what it tasted like. However, that feeling of being cherished—of being treated as the most precious person—has always remained in her heart.

The player is asked to help Qu Jing recall the “taste of memory” so that she can truly awaken.

Quest Reward: [A dream fragment of Qu Jing] (Choice: Yes/No)

A very direct quest.

Qin Huai immediately scrolled down to check the illustrated index and, as expected, a new entry had been unlocked.

Name: Qu Jing

Species: Unknown

Status: Completely amnesiac

Dream: 0/1

Recipes: None

Gifts: None

She actually only had one memory!

Qin Huai was somewhat surprised. He knew that both Chen Huihong and Luo Jun each had three memories. Based on his analysis of side quests and dreams, the two were complementary to each other.

For example, Chen Huihui’s dream delicacy—the locust blossom bun—came from Chen Huihong’s memory recipes. Luo Jun’s first side quest, the dried tangerine peel tea, also came from his own memories.

Following this logic, the game’s approach to completing quests should be: first obtain the target’s memories, then, based on the foods and scenes revealed in those memories, use them as clues to complete the task.

The reason Qin Huai was able to “shortcut” Luo Jun’s side quest was entirely because he had a cheat—direct communication with Luo Jun. He asked questions openly and honestly, essentially just asking the quest target how to complete the quest.

That kind of direct approach—asking the target how to complete their own quest—was already quite unconventional in a game context.

But Qu Jing’s quest clearly couldn’t be completed using that logic.

She only had one memory, and that memory could only be obtained after completing her side quest.

And Qin Huai couldn’t bypass it by asking her directly either—Qu Jing was currently in a state of complete amnesia. Whether she would believe Qin Huai if he told her she was some kind of mythical creature from the “Shan Hai Jing” aside, even if she did believe him, she wouldn’t be able to tell him what the “taste” of her memory was.

She truly had no memories at all.

Not to mention the abstract nature of this side quest…

Qin Huai felt he should apologize to the side quests of Chen Huihui and Luo Jun. The hardest people to deal with in this world aren’t children or the elderly—it’s women.

Chinese pastries come in so many varieties that even Zheng Siyuan couldn’t claim mastery over all of them. With no hints given at all, only the phrase “taste of memory,” how was this supposed to be completed???

At least Luo Jun’s “taste of memory” had clearly been identified as a low-end version of dough figurines, giving a direction to work toward.

Even if Qin Huai boldly guessed that Qu Jing’s memory taste was likely something she enjoyed—perhaps glutinous, soft, and sweet pastries—there were still countless items that fit that description.

By the time he learned and tried every possibility, Luo Jun might already have been reincarnated.

After spending the whole morning thinking without finding a direction, Qin Huai could only, after lunch, use the excuse that Luo Jun’s back was hurting and he wanted flower buns. He would deliver them himself and also arrange to meet Chen Huihong via WeChat to discuss things further at Luo Jun’s home.

When Qin Huai arrived at Luo Jun’s house, Chen Huihong was already eating pastries that had been bought that morning by Zhang Shumei for Luo Jun.

Zhang Shumei had been sent away again. Qin Huai glanced at the table, which was filled with a wide variety of pastries:

Flaky pastries, cold fresh meat mooncakes and crab-shell pastries, leftover “ding sheng gao” from yesterday, cloud cakes, pine flower cakes, probably sesame crisp candies, pine nut red date cakes, and eight-treasure cakes bought three days ago (since those three items hadn’t been made in the past couple of days). There were also two bags of sunflower seeds and peanuts tucked in the corner, along with a fruit platter neatly cut and arranged by Zhang Shumei before she left.

This setup looked like a full tea party.

Qin Huai placed the flower buns he brought for Luo Jun on the table. There were four in total: three flowers and one fish—simple, childlike, almost like kindergarten crayon drawings—ugly-cute, colorful, and delicious.

Zheng Siyuan had taught Qin Huai to make flower buns to train his technique, but he also knew Qin Huai’s real goal was dough figurines, so he also taught him how to mix different ingredients into the dough for coloring and flavoring.

For example, if Qin Luo wanted a yellow Doraemon and didn’t want the cornmeal version, she could have a pumpkin-flavored one. With the right formula, the natural sweetness of pumpkin could give a different kind of flavor.

After eating pumpkin-flavored Doraemon buns for two days, Qin Luo said she was tired of them and wanted black ones instead.

Black coloring was usually achieved with cocoa powder, and Qin Luo loved anything chocolate-flavored.

These past few days, Zheng Siyuan had been watching Qin Huai shape black Doraemon buns with an expression of unbearable suffering, lamenting to himself about being sorry to his master while also feeling sorry for Doraemon.

The four flower buns Qin Huai brought today represented four flavors: pumpkin, chocolate, raspberry, and sweet potato.

Luo Jun disdainfully picked up the black chocolate fish from the bag and said, “With this level of skill, you still want to make dough figurines?”

“Skills are developed through practice. My apple-shaped dough figurines are already very good. It’s just that your side quest doesn’t call for apple ones—otherwise, the quest would already be complete,” Qin Huai replied.

He looked around the living room and dining area but didn’t see the paintings made by the artist nicknamed “Bing Bingzi,” so he asked, “Where are the paintings?”

Bing Bingzi had already completed her commission—ten paintings for 100,000 yuan—depicting various scenes: Liu Tao performing on stage, Liu Tao removing makeup after a performance, Liu Tao waiting at a hotel entrance, Liu Tao eating chestnut cake, Liu Tao watching a movie, Liu Tao holding a lunchbox on the verge of tears, Liu Tao looking lost and helpless…

Qin Huai had described almost every scene he could think of that was worth painting, even providing background, psychological analysis, and character context to help the artist.

Bing Bingzi thought Qin Huai had become obsessed with the novel.

She even asked him if he could send her the original novel link so she could better understand the mood.

“They’re in the collection room,” Luo Jun said. “Go see them yourself. I think they don’t look very accurate—did you not explain clearly?”

Qin Huai protested, “They’re already very accurate—at least ninety percent of what I remember!”

Luo Jun didn’t respond. He took a bite of a flower bun and said, “Not as good as dough figurines. Go look if you want, don’t waste time. Chen Huihong, eat faster too. Don’t you have enough money? You come to my house every day to eat—go to your brother’s place instead.”

“My brother doesn’t buy as many varieties as you do,” Chen Huihong replied.

Qin Huai went to the collection room.

This was his first time entering it.

Last time during a visit, Ou Yang and others had taken a glance, and when Qin Huai wanted to look, Luo Jun stopped him. Later, every visit was for discussion, and he never entered the room.

The moment he stepped in, Qin Huai felt a bit overwhelmed—wealth really made a difference. The collection room was larger than his own bedroom.

The space was big yet felt crowded, filled with shelves covered in butterfly specimens. A rough count suggested there were over a hundred of them.

There were butterflies of all kinds—large and small, vividly colorful—enough to host an entire exhibition.

Ten framed paintings hung on the walls among the butterfly specimens. Near the window stood an easel with an unfinished butterfly painting.

It was clear that Luo Jun truly loved butterflies.

Qin Huai had no knowledge of butterflies and couldn’t identify the species, but he noticed that while there were butterflies of many colors, including black, there seemed to be no common yellow ones.

“Are you done yet? Chen Huihong already finished eating—get back and talk business!”

“I’m coming,” Qin Huai quietly closed the door to the collection room.

Chen Huihong had indeed finished the pastries and moved on to the fruit platter.

Qin Huai explained the side quest he had accidentally triggered in the morning, emphasizing that Qu Jing only had a single memory.

“This quest is really quite difficult,” Qin Huai said. “Can we try some shortcut? Maybe just tell Qu Jing about the Shan Hai Jing creatures and let her try to recall?”

“No,” both of them said in unison.

Chen Huihong put down the fruit platter, her expression serious. “Even if you tell her, she won’t believe it.”

“People shrouded in fog cannot see through the fog. The essence of tribulation is self-rescue. In theory, every creature must rely on itself to overcome its tribulation. External interference will only make it harder. Your situation with the system is a very rare extreme case.”

“Take Luo Jun as an example. He is a typical person trapped in fog. He knows he failed his tribulation and why he failed, yet he would rather linger here and await death than confront his inner demons or tell us why.”

Luo Jun: ?

“Even if, hypothetically, she believed you, that would count as cheating. It would reduce her success probability from 1% to 1 in 10,000.”

“Ah?” Qin Huai was shocked. “The success rate is that low?”

Chen Huihong nodded. “In fact, even 1% is an overestimate. If a creature reaches its final life without overcoming its tribulation, it means its inner demons are deeply rooted—success is almost impossible.”

“Heaven may throw down a final straw, but most likely it will go unnoticed.”

“Helping a doomed creature change its fate isn’t easy. For a plant-type creature like me, there isn’t even the condition to do so. A mythical bird like Luo Jun—if he were willing to sacrifice all his divine power—might be able to help a fellow kind overcome tribulation, but that would mean his own disappearance. Who would be willing to pay that price?”

“Unless one encounters an extremely rare being with very special abilities. But such creatures are even rarer than mythical birds, and they may not be willing to help either.”

“The reason I explained all this is to tell you: failure in tribulation is the norm—success is the miracle. Even if you cannot complete Qu Jing’s quest, don’t feel burdened. Look at Luo Jun—his mentality is quite good.”

Luo Jun: …?

“I’ve tolerated you for a long time,” Luo Jun gritted his teeth. “Can you even speak properly? If not, shut up.”