AGN -Chapter 122 Liang Zhu (Part 8)

When Liu Tao pushed the door open, it was already completely dark outside.

There were no streetlights. Moonlight was the primary source of illumination in the night. Most households were dimly lit, with only a few wealthier homes using kerosene lamps. The mingling of black smoke and faint yellow light looked like scattered sparks of fire.

Luo Jun still stood at the doorway in the same posture as before, hands in his pockets. Moonlight fell across him, half of his face in light and half in shadow, making his eyes appear especially deep.

“I don’t like carrots,” Luo Jun said.

“I know, so I asked Chef Jiang to make the carrots taste better,” Liu Tao said as she walked to his side, naturally linking her arm with his. The two leaned close together as they walked home.

“I remember you didn’t like greens at first either. Didn’t you end up liking the vegetables Chef Jiang made?”

“Those were cooked with chicken broth. Carrots cooked in chicken broth still don’t taste good,” Luo Jun countered.

“But maybe there are other ways to make carrots taste good,” Liu Tao said with a smile. “If Chef Jiang still can’t make them taste good, we just won’t order them in the future.”

“Mm.”

“You’ve finished reading the newspapers. What are you planning to read tomorrow? I’ll prepare everything in advance in the morning.”

“Hmm… The Legend of the Sword Immortal of Shu Mountain. There are too many issues—you wouldn’t know where to start. I’ll find it myself tomorrow morning.”

“Alright. It’s all because I can’t read,” Liu Tao said with a hint of disappointment.

“There are plenty of people who can’t read, and even those who can may not necessarily find it useful,” Luo Jun said dismissively. “That guy surnamed Chu could read a lot—English, French, German, Japanese. He said he studied the Four Books and Five Classics as a child, then later learned modern Western education. He graduated from a prestigious school and entered government service, but in the end, all he did was process documents and embezzle money.”

“He had so much foreign currency at home that even a safe couldn’t hold it all, and he still tried to squeeze money out of me.”

Hearing this, Liu Tao asked, “I remember before we left Shanghai, Minister Chu had someone send me two ruby rings. I haven’t heard anything about him these past two years—does he still work in Shanghai?”

Luo Jun nodded. “Probably. He’s likely swimming.”

Liu Tao tilted her head, not quite understanding. But she had heard many things she didn’t understand in her life and was not in the habit of probing further. She simply nodded and continued walking.

After returning home, Liu Tao went to bed early. Luo Jun, accustomed to staying up late, sat by candlelight reading newspapers until late into the night before going upstairs to sleep.

Early the next morning, Liu Tao got up early as usual, tidied the house, went into the kitchen to prepare ingredients for dried citrus peel tea, and waited for the milk delivery.

By the time Luo Jun woke up, the dried citrus peel tea was already brewed and at the perfect drinking temperature.

Luo Jun drank the tea while reading the newspaper. Meanwhile, Liu Tao went upstairs to dress, put on a full set of jewelry, and prepared a food box before heading out.

“I’m going to Chef Jiang’s place to pick up the pastries. Yesterday I asked him to make some new flavors, so I need to go see how they turned out. If they’re not good, we can still change them in time,” Liu Tao reported her plans.

Luo Jun kept his eyes on the newspaper and said, “If you don’t like wearing so much jewelry out, you don’t have to.”

Liu Tao touched her new earrings, then glanced at the ruby ring Minister Chu had given her, which she had just taken out from upstairs. “I’m used to it, it’s fine.”

“I am Madam Luo. If I go out bare-faced, you’d be laughed at, Boyan.”

Luo Jun said nothing and finished the last sip of his dried citrus peel tea.

Liu Tao left the house.

Luo Jun stood up. Qin Huai originally thought Luo Jun would sit back on the sofa and continue reading like a homebody, but instead Luo Jun walked to the door, paused for two minutes, slowly put on his shoes, and went outside.

Qin Huai: ?

Luo Jun strolled unhurriedly outside. The neighbors along the way were used to seeing him and paid him no mind.

The route he took was very familiar to Qin Huai, because he had walked it with the couple the day before—it was the way to Chef Jiang’s place.

Good. Mr. Luo wasn’t being a homebody today—he had become a tailing voyeur instead.

Luo Jun slowly made his way to the familiar street corner. Instead of knocking on the small house, he walked directly into the courtyard with practiced ease.

There were no children playing in the yard, only a woman sweeping the ground.

Seeing Luo Jun, she quickly brought out a chair with a cushion and smiled ingratiatingly. “Mr. Luo, my little Dogan slipped away again to Chef Jiang’s place when I wasn’t looking. My apologies.”

“It’s fine. My wife likes children,” Luo Jun replied calmly. “Go ahead with your work.”

The woman continued sweeping, but now she deliberately avoided Luo Jun’s direction so as not to stir dust onto his clothes.

Luo Jun took out a neatly folded newspaper from his pocket, unfolded it, and began reading.

Qin Huai: …

One had to say, Luo Jun’s habits had remained consistent over the years.

Watching him read in the courtyard was interesting enough, but Qin Huai was more curious about what was happening inside the house.

After glancing at The Legend of the Sword Immortal of Shu Mountain for a couple of minutes, Qin Huai walked into the small house.

Chef Jiang Weiming, Dogan, and Liu Tao were all in the kitchen. The food box Liu Tao brought was placed on the table outside, and both the front and back doors of the kitchen were open. Any one of them could have stepped outside and seen Luo Jun reading in the courtyard—but none of them did. All their attention was focused on the pastries.

On the cutting board were kneaded dough, minced carrot paste, chopped meat filling, and beet juice.

“Meat-filled pastries… are they still pastries?” Liu Tao asked, though she had little experience making them, her years as a wealthy lady had given her some culinary awareness.

Chef Jiang looked as though he wanted to dig a hole and bury himself. Qin Huai recognized that expression well—it was the same as Zheng Siyuan’s expression when he had made a decision that betrayed his ancestors.

“This… I… this is the only method I could think of,” Chef Jiang stammered.

“Carrots have a very distinct flavor, especially after steaming. It’s very hard to mask it with other ingredients unless you add a lot of spices.”

“But if you use a large amount of spices in pastries, it becomes counterproductive and even stranger.”

“I’ve cooked for you and Mr. Luo for quite some time, so I understand his tastes to some extent. He doesn’t like vegetables. His favorite non-meat food is tofu, especially when it’s simmered in meat or chicken broth to absorb that meaty flavor.”

“So I mixed minced carrots into a meat filling, added diced bamboo shoots and mushrooms, stir-fried it to render the oil, then simmered it in chicken broth. I know this filling is unusual—it’s actually a variation of a dumpling filling my father taught me.”

“But this is, to my knowledge, the closest filling I can make using carrots that matches Mr. Luo’s taste.”

“I’ll shape the pastries like apples. When you take them back today, please don’t tell Mr. Luo these are pastries—just say they are apple-shaped buns. Tell him to eat them while they’re hot. If they get cold, steam them for three minutes; the taste won’t be too different.”

Chef Jiang began to plead.

Liu Tao: …

“Alright,” Liu Tao nodded. “I’ll tell my husband… that these are apple-shaped buns made by Chef Jiang.”

Chef Jiang began cooking the filling.

Watching from the side, Qin Huai’s eyes gradually lit up.

Although Chef Jiang’s pastry-making skills were average—slightly inferior to Zheng Siyuan—his stir-frying skills were truly excellent.

Qin Huai cooked fillings every morning and knew that stir-frying didn’t require extraordinary technique or fancy skills, but the simpler something was, the more it revealed true ability.

It was like making plain boiled cabbage taste like “boiled cabbage soup”—that required real skill.

After stir-frying, Chef Jiang simmered the filling in chicken broth, a step Qin Huai was also familiar with—but he himself couldn’t achieve Chef Jiang’s level.

The reduction was just right, and the aroma made Qin Huai wish he could taste a bowl immediately.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought.

Dogan, sitting on the ground watching Chef Jiang cook, was already staring at the filling in the pot and calling out clearly, “Meat! Meat!”

“Mm-mingming, meat!”

His accent was indeed northern.

Chef Jiang scooped the filling into a bowl and mixed in a little sesame oil, then patted Dogan’s head. “This is a snack for Mr. Luo and Madam Luo. You won’t have any of it.”

In that era, both meat filling and white flour were extremely precious. Ordinary families would consider themselves fortunate to taste even a little. Chef Jiang knew well that while a cook could eat leftovers and scraps, he must never touch the customers’ main dishes.

“Chef Jiang, make a couple of smaller ones later—one for you and one for Dogan. My husband and I won’t be able to finish all of these,” Liu Tao said with a smile, looking down at Dogan. “Dogan is lucky today.”

“Peach… peach,” Dogan called out to Liu Tao again.

“He’s really picked up a northern accent from you, Chef Jiang,” Liu Tao laughed.

Chef Jiang smiled and began shaping the pastries.

Compared to his ease while stir-frying, he was a bit clumsy when shaping the pastries, though still competent. It was clear he had trained before but had grown rusty.

Watching from the side, Qin Huai felt that his technique resembled what Zheng Siyuan had taught him.

As expected, such high-level pastry techniques shared a common lineage—the methods were quite similar.

Soon, apple-shaped pastries of similar size were completed.

Chef Jiang began coloring them.

“Madam Luo, would you like to try?” Chef Jiang asked. “Applying color is quite fun. When my second brother was learning pastries, everyone in the family would fight to do this step.”

“My eldest brother also wanted to do it, but he always let the younger ones go first. I had thicker skin—I insisted on painting at least one before giving it up.”

“Can I?” Liu Tao asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Of course, but you’ll need to remove your rings first.”

Liu Tao quickly removed her rings, picked up a pastry, and carefully applied color, imitating Chef Jiang.

The result was not very good.

She moved very gently, likely worried the brush might damage the pastry, so the color turned out uneven—patchy reds, light reds, and uncolored spots. In short, not very attractive.

She worked slowly and seriously.

Just as Qin Huai was enjoying the scene, an invisible barrier suddenly appeared.

He nearly stumbled backward.

When he looked again, Luo Jun had already finished reading and was walking home. On the way, he encountered a street vendor selling malt candy and bought a large bag.

Though they couldn’t understand each other’s language, money bridged the gap. After Luo Jun paid with a silver dollar, the vendor eagerly tried to give him more, but Luo Jun only took one bag. The vendor thanked him with local auspicious phrases as Luo Jun walked away.

Back home, Luo Jun dusted himself off, placed the malt candy on the table, and sat comfortably on the sofa to continue reading the newspaper.

About ten minutes later, Liu Tao returned with the food box, slightly out of breath, with fine beads of sweat on her forehead—clearly she had hurried back.

“Today Chef Jiang made a new pastry—apple-shaped buns! They’re especially delicious. He said they should be eaten hot, so I ran all the way back to avoid them getting cold,” Liu Tao said, catching her breath as she opened the box and arranged the pastries.

“If you want some in the afternoon, just call me at the door. They don’t taste good when cold—they need to be steamed for three minutes.”

Liu Tao noticed the malt candy on the table.

“The candy seller came by today?” she asked in surprise.

“He did,” Luo Jun replied, putting down the newspaper. “Didn’t you say you hadn’t run into him before? He knocked today, so I bought a bag. He spoke in a dialect—I couldn’t understand a word.”

“His accent is quite strong,” Liu Tao smiled, placing the plate in front of Luo Jun while she opened the paper wrapper and took a piece of candy herself.

From the neatly arranged apple-shaped pastries, Luo Jun accurately picked out the only one that looked poorly made—the one Liu Tao had painted. Without hesitation, he took a bite.

“That one is…” Liu Tao tried to stop him, but it was too late.

“What is it?” Luo Jun asked knowingly. “An ugly apple?”

Embarrassed, Liu Tao could only say, “That’s one Chef Jiang didn’t finish properly—a mistake. But flour and meat are both precious, so I thought it was fine, just a bit ugly. I originally planned to bring it back for myself.”

“So he made a mistake with pastries. Looks like we should pay him less next time.”

“No, it’s not… it’s… an accident. Maybe I distracted him, which caused the mistake,” Liu Tao quickly defended, worried she might shift blame onto Chef Jiang and cost him money.

“But I think this one looks pretty good,” Luo Jun said, taking another bite. “The taste is nice. Those identical apples are boring—this one has much more character.”

Liu Tao’s eyes lit up instantly.

“Boyan, you think this apple looks good?” she asked, lowering her head slightly, a bit shy. “This one was actually… painted by me. I was too embarrassed to tell you because it looked so bad.”

Luo Jun smiled. “I’m not stupid. Of course I could tell.”

“Next time you make this filling, you don’t need to shape it—just make buns directly. Carrot paste, meat filling, diced mushrooms and bamboo shoots—that’s basically bun filling.”

Luo Jun finished the last bite. “I really like this filling.”

Burp.

Qin Huai let out a quiet burp in his mind.

This “dog food” was quite to his liking as well.

Qin Huai exited the memory.