AGN -Chapter 124 Model Teaching

Qin Huai sat at Luo Jun’s house and finished the fruit platter. After that, Luo Jun began to “escort” him out. Before leaving, Qin Huai carried forward Chen Huihong’s excellent habit—he took a bag of fruit with him.

Qin Huai didn’t go to the cafeteria. Instead, he went straight home, collapsed on the sofa, and watched TV in Luo Jun’s signature posture.

To be honest, that posture was quite comfortable—just a bit hard on the lower back if maintained for too long.

While watching TV, playing music through the speakers, using his phone, and snacking on fruit without stopping, Qin Huai multitasked at high intensity for a while before messaging Zheng Siyuan.

Qin Huai: You there?

Zheng Siyuan: ? What’s up?

Qin Huai: I just got two pastry recipes from Mr. Luo Jun. He said he bought them years ago from a famous chef in Shu. They’re secret recipes. Want to study them together tomorrow?

Zheng Siyuan: Sure.

Zheng Siyuan: How much did the recipes cost? I’ll split half with you.

Qin Huai: No need. Mr. Luo only has one request—once they’re made, let him taste them first.

Zheng Siyuan: Got it. We’ll start studying them tomorrow.

Qin Huai wasn’t lying. He really had obtained two pastry recipes from Luo Jun. After Luo Jun revealed that he had bought recipes from Jiang Weiming 60 years ago, Qin Huai casually asked whether the recipes were still around.

It turned out the purchased recipes had long been lost—but Luo Jun still remembered them.

This guy couldn’t quite remember what his wife looked like clearly, yet he remembered the recipes perfectly. Qin Huai didn’t know what to say about that.

However, the recipes Luo Jun had bought were somewhat unexpected.

From the memories of Jiang Weiming and Liu Tao’s conversations, it was clear that Luo Jun was a pure meat lover. He didn’t like vegetarian food at all—everything had to taste like meat. Even tofu had to be made to taste meaty, and cabbage had to be stewed in chicken broth.

So when Qin Huai heard that Luo Jun had bought two pastry recipes from Jiang Weiming, his first reaction was that they must be meat-filled pastries that Luo Jun would enjoy.

But that wasn’t the case.

The two recipes Luo Jun bought were osmanthus glutinous rice cake and milk pastries—both common, not difficult to make, and widely loved sweets, especially by women.

These two dishes definitely weren’t Luo Jun’s taste—they must have been Liu Tao’s favorites.

Of course, Jiang Weiming also thoughtfully included the recipe for the apple-shaped pastry as a gift, while firmly insisting that it wasn’t a pastry, but a new-style bun.

After watching TV for a while and feeling bored, Qin Huai decided to look at the two recipes instead.

He already knew how to make osmanthus glutinous rice cake. This dessert often appears in palace intrigue dramas, usually as a delicacy that showcases the emperor’s favor toward a concubine.

Qin Huai had learned his version of osmanthus rice cake from a pastry compendium. The result wasn’t as visually appealing as online pictures—it wasn’t as translucent—and it also wasn’t as fragrant, soft, or chewy. Sprinkling dried osmanthus on top only added aroma; it didn’t improve the taste, and sometimes even introduced a slight bitterness.

Qin Luo had tried it once and concluded that the “concubines” in dramas had terrible taste—it wasn’t as good as jujube and yam cake.

The recipe Luo Jun obtained was very detailed. For this osmanthus rice cake, the ingredients were simply pure glutinous rice flour, white sugar, osmanthus honey, and water.

The whole recipe was essentially foolproof—any pastry chef could understand and follow it.

It specified every step with precision: whether to add sugar or osmanthus honey first, what color and boiling state the syrup should reach, when to add the glutinous rice flour into the syrup and how to stir, how long to mix, and when it was ready to be placed into a steamer.

Even heat control, when to add fuel, what color indicated success, and what state indicated failure were all clearly written.

If conditions had allowed, Qin Huai felt that Jiang Weiming would have recorded a full tutorial video and broken everything down step by step.

This was truly someone who knew how to teach.

In fact, Qin Huai felt that Jiang Weiming’s written recipe was easier to learn from than Jiang Chengde’s video tutorials.

Same surname Jiang—why such a huge difference?

The milk pastry recipe was even clearer. If osmanthus rice cake required at least some culinary skill, milk pastry was something anyone could make with their hands.

Simply put, milk pastry involves pouring milk into a pot, boiling it over high heat, then simmering it on low heat until a thick milk skin forms. The milk is filtered out, and the milk skin is pressed and mixed with sugar to create a rich, sweet, milky snack.

As long as the ingredients are of good quality and the milk isn’t burned, there won’t be any problems.

The recipe was also written in a “foolproof tutorial” style, clearly describing when to cool and rest the mixture, how much to press it, and how to form small balls. The instructions on how much sugar to add and how to add it reflected the author’s thoughtful effort.

It was clear the writer was determined to make sure no one failed to learn from the recipe.

While eating a pear, Qin Huai finished reading the two text-based recipes and felt he should strike while the iron was hot and watch the video tutorial as well.

He opened the game panel, double-clicked 【Apple-Shaped Pastry — B Rank】, pulled up the video tutorial, and began watching.

The video tutorial started from kneading the dough.

The setting was very familiar—the small kitchen from the memories. Only Jiang Weiming’s hands appeared in the video, but from the voice, it was clear that Liu Tao was nearby.

“Kneading requires finesse. You should use the base of your palm for force. Relying solely on the wrist can easily injure it.”

“The dough for pastries needs to be firm, so don’t use too much force when kneading. Knead less and shape more. If the dough is too soft, it won’t hold its shape well.”

Jiang Weiming explained step by step, moving as he spoke, which made Qin Huai marvel at how perfect the teaching video was.

Other Jiang, take notes—this is what a real teaching video looks like!

Liu Tao’s voice came through: “Chef Jiang, are you teaching me how to knead dough? I’m not very good at this—I only know how to make soups.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Luo, it’s just a habit.”

“Did you take apprentices when you were in the north?”

“No, but I have four younger brothers below me. I’m used to teaching them. As long as someone is nearby, I tend to teach while cooking without realizing it.”

“In that case, you’ll definitely be a great teacher in the future, capable of nurturing apprentices no worse than yourself.” Liu Tao’s voice was full of laughter. “When you’re old, with apprentices and children supporting you, you’ll be able to enjoy your later years peacefully.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Luo.”

……

Qin Huai carefully finished watching the entire tutorial video.

It was an exceptionally excellent teaching video.

As Jiang Weiming had said, he was used to teaching his younger brothers while cooking, so whenever someone was nearby, he would instinctively slow down and explain as he worked. This was reflected not only in kneading dough, but also vividly in stir-frying the filling.

When Qin Huai first watched the stir-frying in his memory, he only felt that the technique was quite good. But now, watching again with a learning mindset, he realized just how impressive it was.

It truly deserved to be a game-system-certified master chef from Shu—his control over heat was astonishing.

During stir-frying, the oil was controlled just right. Since this was for a pastry, the filling couldn’t be too oily, or the oil would seep out and ruin the overall shape. But it also couldn’t be too dry, as dry fillings would taste bad.

After stir-frying, the filling reached a perfect moist-but-not-greasy state that even made Qin Huai admire it as a work of art. It made him wonder if the hand holding the spatula and the hand kneading dough were even the same hand.

Was there some kind of buff applied when holding a spatula?

The subsequent simmering of the filling in chicken broth needed no further mention. Qin Huai did this every day, preparing fillings for buns like Five-Ingredient Buns and Three-Ingredient Buns every morning.

When simmering, chefs usually appear relaxed—but Qin Huai’s was truly casual, whereas Jiang Weiming’s was controlled casual.

Jiang Weiming had already mastered heat control to a high level, allowing him to chat while cooking the filling. Qin Huai, on the other hand, chatted while cooking simply because he didn’t understand that heat control required skill.

After watching the video, Qin Huai deeply realized that Luo Jun’s criticism of his “Dream Bun” filling was justified.

Back in the day, he had eaten too well.

After watching it once, Qin Huai still wanted more—so he watched it again.

And again.

And again!

One more time!

And again!

On this perfect day of slacking off, Qin Huai remembered nothing about the TV drama he watched. His mind was filled entirely with the beautiful states of simmering and boiling fillings in the pot.

Ah… truly perfect.

That night, Qin Huai dreamed of perfectly golden, glowing fillings.