AGN -Chapter 123 Apple-Shaped Pastry (B Rank)

After leaving the memory, the first thing Qin Huai saw was Luo Jun sitting on the sofa watching TV.

Ah, that familiar posture.

Luo Jun glanced at Qin Huai. “Finished watching? What dish was it?”

Qin Huai opened the game panel and checked the catalog.

Name: Luo Jun
Species: Bifang
Status: About to lose memories
Memories: 2/3
Recipes: Dried Citrus Peel Tea, Apple-Shaped Pastry (click to view details)
Gifts: None

He clicked on the apple-shaped pastry.

【Apple-Shaped Pastry — B Rank】

Creator: Jiang Weiming

Dish Details: A creative work from Jiang Weiming, a retired master chef from Shu who was active in his youth. In order to satisfy the picky tastes of his patron who supported him, Jiang Weiming made a rather unconventional decision—mixing bun filling into pastry dough to create a “looks like one thing but is actually another” type of dish. Surprisingly, the taste turned out quite good. After consuming this dish, there is a certain probability of experiencing the “taste of love.” (The worse the coloring technique and the more uneven the coloring, the higher the probability.)

Daily Production Limit: (0/520)

Qin Huai: …

He was truly speechless at Luo Jun’s “dog food” dishes.

That production number—1314 for one thing, 520 for another—what is this, confessing in his game system?

Can someone with a wife just behave so recklessly?

Who doesn’t have a wife in the future?!

With a blank expression, Qin Huai read the dish details aloud to Luo Jun. After listening calmly, Luo Jun took out his phone and transferred 100,000 yuan to Qin Huai.

“Last time’s. Draw ten more,” Luo Jun said. After a brief hesitation, he transferred another 50,000.

“Fifteen drawings. I’m sure you peeked inside while I was outside reading the newspaper.” It was clear Luo Jun understood exactly what kind of “plot” would trigger the apple-shaped pastry.

Qin Huai was genuinely impressed.

For most people, witnessing something like that firsthand would be socially devastating—something so embarrassing you’d want to dig a hole, bury yourself, and build a house over it. Yet Luo Jun calmly extracted key information and placed an order for illustrations. Truly worthy of being a Bifang who had lived among humans for 92 years.

Qin Huai went to place an order with Bing Bingzi, first paying an 8,000 yuan deposit, then sending a voice description of the scenes while also going to the kitchen to help himself to some fruit, cutting himself a fruit platter.

And to be honest, the fruits Zhang Shumei bought were quite good—very sweet. No wonder Chen Huihong liked coming over to Luo Jun’s place to eat.

After receiving payment, Bing Bingzi didn’t reply for quite a while. By the time Qin Huai had eaten half his fruit platter, she finally responded.

Bing Bingzi: Boss, I’ve received all your requirements. Since the character’s status has been modified, I’ll likely only be able to send you a draft tomorrow morning.

Bing Bingzi: By the way, which author wrote this novel? Is it commissioned content? The plot is quite interesting—is it a sweet story?

Qin Huai: Don’t worry about that. Just draw.

Bing Bingzi: Understood, boss. Received, boss. Got it, boss. I’ll deliver the draft tomorrow, boss.

Luo Jun gave Qin Huai a look. “Done negotiating?”

“Done. Draft will be ready tomorrow,” Qin Huai said with a smile, continuing to eat his fruit.

“Can you actually make apple-shaped pastries?” Luo Jun asked again.

This question stumped Qin Huai a bit.

He had actually seen most of the process in the memory. The only part he hadn’t seen—kneading the dough—could still be inferred from the dough’s condition.

He hadn’t expected the pastry to be ranked B.

It wasn’t that he doubted Jiang Weiming’s skill. The dish description clearly stated that Jiang Weiming was a retired master chef from Shu. Being called a “master chef” meant his culinary ability was unquestionably solid. It was just that he likely wasn’t particularly specialized in white-case (pastry) work.

No need to compare further—Zheng Siyuan’s pastry skills were definitely better than Jiang Weiming’s.

Based on Qin Huai’s understanding, Zheng Siyuan’s pastry skills should fall between B and A rank. For highly specialized items like flaky pastries or fresh meat mooncakes, he might reach A rank. For ordinary pastries, it would likely be B rank, and lower-quality ones C rank.

Zheng Siyuan’s pastries would probably also be B rank.

Yet this recipe’s pastry was also B rank.

This meant Jiang Weiming compensated for his weaker pastry skills with something else, forcibly elevating the overall rating.

If we think in terms of grades: scoring 150 in math and 30 in English averages out to 90—passing.

And what did Jiang Weiming use to raise the rating of this apple-shaped pastry?

Very clearly—the filling.

More precisely: the stir-fried filling.

Qin Huai could tell Jiang Weiming’s stir-frying skills were excellent, but he hadn’t realized they were this good.

As for Qin Huai’s own stir-frying skills…

He could do it, but not much more than that. Although he had recently been training hard on broth-making and had reached an intermediate level in heat control, he still couldn’t make “round dream buns,” because the filling he produced was still disliked by Luo Jun.

For a pastry of this difficulty, trying to compensate for weak filling with better pastry work wasn’t very realistic.

The difficulty level was fixed. Improving quickly wasn’t likely—practicing stir-frying was more practical.

In the end, the issue still came down to heat control.

Ah, that cursed heat control.

Seeing Qin Huai remain silent, Luo Jun paused the TV he was watching, turned around, and asked, “What, you can’t even make buns?”

“Is that an ordinary bun?” Qin Huai replied. “That’s a B-rank bun shaped like a pastry.”

The disdain in Luo Jun’s eyes was almost overflowing. “Why are you so bad? You can’t even compare to Little Jiang. Back then, he was just running a small private kitchen at a street corner. And yet you’ve opened such a big cafeteria.”

Qin Huai: …The “Little Jiang” you’re talking about is now a retired master chef.

“Did you keep in touch with Chef Jiang Weiming afterward?” Qin Huai asked.

He felt that since he had already asked Zheng Siyuan to teach him knife skills, it would be a bit much to ask him for heat control as well—especially since he already had Huang Shengli as a kind of “online course” teacher for heat control.

If needed, he could use Luo Jun’s connection to contact Chef Jiang Weiming. After all, he was the creator of the dish—he might have some tips for stir-frying fillings.

“I haven’t been in contact with him for over 60 years,” Luo Jun said. “Not even sure if he’s still alive.”

“Huh?” Qin Huai was stunned.

“When Liu Tao and I stayed in Shu, it was only for a little over two years. Later, she heard that her parents might be in Shanshi, so we went there. After that, I never left.”

“When we left Shu, I gave Little Jiang a sum of money and bought his pastry recipes. He seemed to have opened a small restaurant there, and later he even sent a letter through someone when he got married. I didn’t go. Counting it now…”

“If he’s still alive, he’d be around 90.”

Qin Huai decided he’d better just stick to watching tutorial videos.

He still had one last question.

“That carrot-filled bun—uh, I mean apple-shaped pastry—can you really not taste the carrot flavor?”

Luo Jun looked at Qin Huai as if he were an idiot. “Carrots taste that bad—how could you not taste them?”

“However—” Luo Jun pressed the remote and continued watching TV, speaking casually, “that bun was pretty good.”

“Little Jiang’s skills are still decent.”

Qin Huai: Tsk tsk tsk.