AGN -Chapter 135 The Big Wok Toss

Chen Huihong was undoubtedly a woman of action. After leaving Luo Jun’s place, she immediately hired cleaners to tidy up several vacant apartments in the complex, preparing for Qu Jing to move in the next day.

Qin Huai didn’t know how she and Luo Jun managed it, but the very next day, Qu Jing really moved in with just her luggage.

By the time Qu Jing, Luo Jun, and Chen Huihong arrived at the cafeteria, Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan were steaming the last batch of guo’er.

After their trip to the welfare home the previous day, Zheng Siyuan felt he had gained some new insights into stir-frying and simmering fillings. So today, all the fillings were made by him—and the results were wildly inconsistent.

It was obvious he was experimenting with different methods. The entire afternoon had been one long string of failures—failing while stir-frying, failing while simmering, sometimes even both at once.

Fortunately, after skipping work yesterday, the regular customers were unusually tolerant today. While they weren’t as enthusiastic as the welfare home staff, no one questioned anything—most comments were still praise.

Even passersby had nothing but compliments.

Because today’s failed products were only sold for 5 yuan each.

A fist-sized, meat-filled guo’er for 5 yuan—no one could really complain about that price, portion, or filling. Unless you skipped work to buy it and got your wages docked, there was little to criticize.

Because Zheng Siyuan’s “failures” today were so varied and spectacular, Qin Huai’s mind was filled with eighteen different ways to mess things up. So when the three of them walked into the cafeteria, his first reaction wasn’t that Qu Jing had moved in—but that they had come at a very bad time.

There was really nothing good today.

Want a D-grade guo’er?

We’ve got D-, D, and D+ to choose from.

“The simmering time and heat really need to follow the recipe,” Zheng Siyuan said, analyzing his failures. “You can adjust the stir-frying stage, but the simmering can’t be changed. Even a small adjustment ruins the final reduction—the meat can’t retain its juices, and it leaks during steaming.”

“But I don’t think changing the stir-frying helped either,” Qin Huai said. He might not be great in practice, but his theoretical knowledge was solid—he watched tutorial videos every day.

This Teacher Jiang taught much better than the other Teacher Jiang.

“If you follow the recipe for heat and timing, and the fat-to-lean ratio is right, the rendered oil should be perfect,” Qin Huai continued. “I think we failed because we didn’t do the wok toss properly. I’ve been watching videos—some chefs just lift the wok and whoosh, and the food flips perfectly, like it understands commands.”

To make his point, Qin Huai imitated Jiang Weiming’s tossing motion—though it looked more like a hand dance from afar.

Zheng Siyuan stared at him, stunned, and after a few seconds asked slowly, “The technique you saw… was it the big wok toss?”

“No idea. You get what I mean.”

“Does stir-frying filling… even require a big wok toss?” Zheng Siyuan looked confused.

Now Qin Huai was confused too. “Doesn’t it? It looks useful. After the toss, the filling seems to tighten up—like it goes from loose to… you know?”

Zheng Siyuan sighed and explained, “The big wok toss is a very advanced technique. Normally, pastry chefs wouldn’t use it at all.”

“It’s usually used for braised or sauced dishes—to help ingredients blend, absorb flavor, enhance aroma and color, and keep everything intact after tossing.”

“As far as I know, it’s used at the thickening stage—after adding starch slurry and oil along the wok edge, then performing the toss.”

“I’m not saying it’s impossible—but we’re making filling. For buns. This is pastry filling!”

By the end, even Zheng Siyuan couldn’t finish his argument.

Because the more he thought about it… the more it seemed possible.

The conditions were… somewhat there.

And if done well, it might actually improve the filling significantly.

Looking at Qin Huai—whose face clearly said why not try it?—Zheng Siyuan once again felt that unconventional methods had their charm.

So this was what it was like—being a pastry chef unbound by rigid rules, free to experiment.

“Can you do it?” Qin Huai asked.

Zheng Siyuan shook his head. “This technique is too advanced for pastry chefs. I’ve only learned basic tossing methods.”

“It requires strength, precision, and strong fundamentals. Chefs who master it usually train from childhood—starting with sand, then cabbage, then real ingredients. It takes years of practice.”

“My dad can’t do it either,” he added. “My senior uncle can, but his back isn’t good now. I wouldn’t dare ask him to try.”

This once again proved just how skilled Jiang Weiming was.

Qin Huai didn’t fully understand, but he had seen Jiang Weiming perform the big wok toss in videos. He had thought it was just for show—but if it could actually improve the filling…

He looked at Zheng Siyuan with shining eyes.

Zheng Siyuan suddenly felt a familiar sense of impending doom.

“Let’s try it!” Qin Huai said.

“…I can’t do it,” Zheng Siyuan replied.

“Neither can I,” Qin Huai said cheerfully. “That’s exactly why we should try. There’s still a small bowl of filling in the fridge—we can use that.”

“Just a small test.”

“It’s dangerous,” Zheng Siyuan warned. “Even flipping sand is hard without experience—let alone hot oil and meat. If it splashes—”

“I’ll be careful,” Qin Huai said firmly.

Failure didn’t scare him. Ever since he started practicing heat control, failure had been a daily occurrence. He had even made duck soup in a duck pen—and fed it to Ou Yang, who actually drank it.

At this point, what was he afraid of?

Thinking of that, Qin Huai felt he and Ou Yang shared a life-and-death bond. He had neglected him these past few days—no soup, no favorite snacks.

Tomorrow, he’d make it up to him.

A beautiful, meat-filled apple-shaped guo’er!

Qin Huai rushed off to get ingredients.

Meanwhile, Qu Jing and the others—who had only come to say hello and maybe get some pastries—stood there speechless.

Qu Jing held a guo’er in both hands, nibbling slowly. It was clear she didn’t enjoy it much, but she ate it anyway to avoid wasting food. Curious, she craned her neck to see what Qin Huai was taking out of the freezer.

“Didn’t Uncle Wang say that was the last batch? What’s Qin Huai making now?”

Chen Huihong was also chewing on a guo’er, not particularly impressed. She preferred the C-grade ones from the day before.

“Probably learned something new. Good thing we waited.”

Luo Jun couldn’t help but sneer at that, looking very much like a villain.

He hadn’t bought any guo’er at all—he was eating his own snack: cloud cake that Zhang Shumei had bought that morning.

“What good could a newly learned dish be?” Luo Jun said. “Better stay far away—don’t get turned into taste-test guinea pigs.”

Just as he finished speaking, Ou Yang walked in.

“Sister Hong! Doctor Qu! Mr. Luo…” He hadn’t expected to run into such a lineup. “You’re all here!”

“Ou Yang, perfect timing—Xiao Qin seems to be making something new,” Chen Huihong pointed toward the kitchen.

Ou Yang’s eyes lit up. “Finally! I’ve caught it this time. Lately Qin Huai hasn’t even been making soup, even though he promised I could come every afternoon. At least before, there were different kinds of guo’er—you never knew what you’d get.”

“But these past two days it’s all this same one. It tastes good, but it’s too big. Two and I’m full—no room for anything else. If only they were smaller.”

He smacked his lips. “I’ve been craving soup.”

Luo Jun: …