AGN -Chapter 151 Thanking the Middleman

Over the course of the afternoon, Qin Huai stir-fried two buckets of green vegetables.

The quantity was enormous—Dong Shi’s face turned green just looking at the two buckets.

Qin Huai felt that he had gained a lot that afternoon.

He mastered many tricks for stir-frying greens.

For example, the optimal duration for high-heat quick stir-frying must be controlled within just a few seconds—maybe even that is too long. The difference between the perfect and near-perfect state of the vegetables exists only in a fleeting moment.

The timing of tossing the wok depends on the actual condition of the food in the pan. Unlike steaming pastries in the white-case kitchen, where timing can be precisely controlled down to the minute, stir-frying in the hot kitchen requires adaptability and the chef’s experience to control the rhythm.

Another example: when tossing the wok, one must not rely purely on brute force but instead use skillful—otherwise, the food may be thrown out of the pan.

And also…

Of course, gaining knowledge doesn’t necessarily mean being able to execute it immediately, but Qin Huai felt the results were still very good.

Huang Shengli had demonstrated an almost perfect stir-fry of greens for him. Qin Huai didn’t need to modify anything—he just had to strive toward matching that dish.

This was his most familiar mode of learning.

“Master Huang, thank you for your hard work,” Qin Huai said sincerely.

Huang Shengli looked calm, maintaining the demeanor of an expert, wearing a gentle smile and nodding slightly. “It’s only right. We’ll continue tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, right, Xiao Qin. I heard you arrived at Huang Ji as early as 8 a.m. this morning. I didn’t fully consider your situation. You’re used to waking up early, so starting work so late must feel uncomfortable. How about this—I’ll have Huang Jia give you a key. If you want to come earlier, just come in directly.”

“Wang Jun was assisting you today, right? Later, tell him what pastries you plan to make tomorrow. I’ll have him prepare whatever ingredients he can in advance tonight.”

“I also need to talk to Huang Jia. He’s already grown up, yet he’s still unreliable. You listed so many pastries, and he didn’t even remind you. You must have been exhausted at noon, right?” Huang Shengli’s concern was practically overflowing.

Qin Huai quickly replied, “No, no, it’s my fault. It was my first day, so I wanted to make more of my specialties. I didn’t expect the customers to be so enthusiastic.”

“As for evening pastries, you don’t need to prepare any. I remember you also made some other items at noon—red date yam cakes and mung bean cakes, right? Just sell a few in the evening. Siyuan still has fresh meat mooncakes and Ding Sheng cakes.”

“I’ll also talk to Siyuan later. From now on, Huang Ji will only sell pastries at noon and not in the evening. You can work at your own pace.”

“You don’t need to worry about the customers. I’ll explain things to them. They still have to give me some face.”

“You’ve been stir-frying greens all afternoon too—you must be exhausted. I’ll cook a couple of dishes for you to eat. Go back and rest early. Recharge for tomorrow, and we’ll continue in the afternoon.”

Qin Huai very much wanted to politely and falsely decline—“No need, no need, how could we trouble you to cook?”—but recalling the welcome banquet he had eaten the previous night, his saliva involuntarily began to secrete, and his body honestly nodded.

He wanted to eat. He loved eating. He really liked eating.

He was extremely fond of the staff meals at Huang Ji Restaurant. He decided he would stay and work at Huang Ji for at least a couple of months!

Huang Shengli happily went to cook.

At that moment, anyone who knew Huang Shengli would notice that while he was cooking, he was actually somewhat distracted.

Although his body stood in front of the stove, his mind had already drifted elsewhere.

All Huang Shengli could think about was how to redesign his teaching plan.

Damn it—his “gold medal instructor” experience wasn’t enough anymore.

He hadn’t said a single line of prepared teaching remarks today!

How did a gold medal instructor end up teaching like Zheng Da after one afternoon?

No, he needed to go back and carefully study this. Tomorrow, he would show Qin Huai the true style of a gold medal instructor!

Qin Huai didn’t think too much about it. After discussing the next day’s working hours with Zheng Siyuan, he happily finished his employee meal and went back to rest.

From morning until noon he had been working at high intensity. After resting for over an hour, he began training on heat control in the afternoon and stir-fried two large buckets of greens—he was already completely exhausted and had no extra energy or mental capacity to think about anything else.

After returning, he immediately fell asleep—and woke up at 6 a.m. the next morning.

Qin Huai: …

Oh, his cursed biological clock.

He was already this tired—why couldn’t he sleep in until 8?

Since he was awake anyway, Qin Huai gave up and got up.

First, he scrolled through his social media feed and checked the likes on his post from the day he arrived in Suzhou—an endless stream of them.

The comments were also long.

Xu Tuqiang asked with concern whether the food in Suzhou suited him, suggesting he return early if not.

Granny Ding said the scenery in Suzhou was great and that he could stay and enjoy himself for three to five days before returning.

Uncle Qian sent three thumbs-up emojis.

Uncle Wang’s comment was more thoughtful, recommending several Suzhou specialty dishes he remembered and reminiscing a bit about the past.

Qin Huai suddenly remembered that it was Uncle Wang who had connected him to Zheng Da through an old colleague in Suzhou. To express his gratitude, Qin Huai had made Uncle Wang’s favorite crab-shell pastries for several days in a row—but he had never properly thanked the colleague who actually made the connection.

That colleague was also an important figure—without him, Qin Huai would never have met Zheng Da, nor Zheng Siyuan, and would not have had the opportunity to come to Huang Ji Restaurant to exchange and learn.

Now that he was already in Suzhou, he needed to thank this middleman.

Qin Huai began messaging Uncle Wang.

“Uncle Wang, are you there?”

Uncle Wang replied instantly.

“Here!”

Qin Huai directly called him via voice, and Uncle Wang picked up immediately.

After explaining the situation, Uncle Wang readily shared his colleague’s WeChat and introduced the person’s background.

“Old Qian used to be an accountant at our factory. Later, when the factory’s performance declined, he found connections and transferred to a cotton textile factory.”

“He should still be living in the same old place. I heard Huang Ji is nearby. I haven’t seen him in years—only once about seven or eight years ago at his son’s wedding. But I heard he’s a regular at Huang Ji, basically spending most of his pension there every month.”

“If you’re willing to look after Old Qian, that would be good. It also reflects well on me. I’ll greet him first—you can add him later.”

Qin Huai asked, “Uncle Wang, do you know Uncle Qian’s preferences?”

“He likes fancy and expensive things,” Uncle Wang said without hesitation. “He always followed trends when he was young, even saving half a year’s salary to buy leather shoes. If you want to thank him, something flashy will definitely work.”

Hearing this, Qin Huai felt he had a clear idea and said he understood, then headed to Huang Ji.

On the way, he added Uncle Qian on WeChat. The name was simple—his real name: Qian Zhongheng—and even the profile picture was his own photo.

Qin Huai looked at the photo and felt it looked somewhat familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere recently.

When he reached the entrance of Huang Ji, the door wasn’t open—which was normal. It was 7:28 a.m., and even Zheng Siyuan wouldn’t arrive this early, as he lived some distance away.

Qin Huai unlocked the door with his key, closed it behind him, and went into the kitchen to knead dough.

Before leaving yesterday, he had already finalized today’s menu.

Only two items: fermented rice buns and round dream flatbreads—nothing more.

He left early yesterday and didn’t know how the remaining pastries sold in the evening. But yesterday’s explosive sales taught him something: at Huang Ji, a pastry chef whose skill is above average should not make too many varieties in a single day.

Customers here really buy pastries.

They even lose rationality when competing for them.

Buying pastries can feel like a long drought finally meeting rain.

Like Zheng Siyuan, making only a few types per day—just two items—is the correct approach.

Qin Huai chose these two items carefully.

First, he had strong confidence in his fermented rice buns and round dream flatbreads. The fermented rice buns are a “buff dish,” though only for the first three steamers. Even without the buff, they are his most skilled pastry—without question.

For Qin Huai, fermented rice buns are the perfect dish to leverage strengths and avoid weaknesses. They require almost no heat control or advanced technique. They are one of the few pastries where Qin Huai excels and can even surpass Zheng Siyuan.

He also suspected that Huang Shengli especially liked this pastry.

Yesterday, when Huang Shengli wasn’t present to try them, Qin Huai had once secretly observed his expression from a distance when he ate them before—it felt like he wasn’t eating a bun, but tasting the past.

Like Luo Jun drinking aged tangerine peel tea.

The customers at Huang Ji were also unusual—they showed far more love for fermented rice buns than for other pastries.

Are they delicious? Of course.

But compared to four-delight dumplings, five-filling buns, round dream flatbreads, crab-shell pastries, or Zheng Siyuan’s fresh meat mooncakes, Qin Huai felt they weren’t necessarily superior.

Especially Zheng Siyuan’s fresh meat mooncakes—that was his signature signature. One mooncake alone could outclass all of Qin Huai’s pastries combined.

Yet yesterday at noon, Zheng Siyuan’s mooncake sales reached only about 70% of Qin Huai’s fermented rice bun sales—and even that was because Qin Huai’s buns sold out early and stopped being available.

If they hadn’t sold out, Qin Huai couldn’t even imagine how many would have been sold.

While kneading dough yesterday, he even wondered whether Suzhou’s southern dietary habits—favoring pastries—meant people were buying them out of novelty.

Otherwise, it was hard to explain how an 18-yuan fermented rice bun could sell with the momentum of a 1.5-yuan traditional bun.

Since the customers at Huang Ji liked them, Qin Huai decided to work harder. He would treat it as gratitude toward Huang Shengli for personally guiding him on heat control despite his bad back. By making more popular items that sell well, he could help increase the restaurant’s customer flow.

The second item, the round dream flatbread, was chosen because its filling includes meat.

Although the current fillings used in Huang Ji’s round dream flatbreads could not be made by Qin Huai himself, he saw them as a benchmark.

If one day he could produce meat fillings of that level—or his own fillings could pair with hollow flatbreads to satisfy customers, without the filling being the weak link—then his heat control skills would be considered complete.

From stir-frying greens yesterday afternoon, Qin Huai realized the importance of a strong reference standard.

Only when the reference is excellent and qualified can a person have a clear goal and direction.

Otherwise, without clarity and purpose, progress becomes aimless and inefficient.

Although Qin Huai had finalized today’s menu, that didn’t mean he would only make these two items.

Coming to Huang Ji so early, he first needed to prepare breakfast.

This time, for employee meals, he wouldn’t make Yunzhong Cafeteria’s regular dishes, but something he hadn’t practiced often yet never forgotten:

Longevity noodles.

Qin Huai kneaded dough seriously.

If examined closely, kneading dough has many intricacies. Different pastries require different doughs. Kneading is like heat control in cooking—on the surface it may look similar, but only the chef truly understands the differences.

Three lights—perfect.

Qin Huai glanced at his phone. Qian Zhongheng had accepted his friend request.

He sent a message.

Hearing that Qin Huai was a new white-case chef at Huang Ji, Qian Zhongheng was very enthusiastic—so enthusiastic that it felt like his words were about to fly out of the phone and kiss Qin Huai’s face.

Qin Huai told him he had prepared a thank-you gift and asked when he would be available to pick it up.

Qian Zhongheng said he was free anytime and also planned to come to Huang Ji for lunch.

Qin Huai thought that was quite a coincidence and arranged a time, planning to steam the pastries precisely when the timing aligned.

Yes—pastries.

Since Uncle Wang said Qian Zhongheng liked flashy things, Qin Huai’s first thought was decorative pastries.

Proper decorative pastries—not the meat-filled kind.

Making traditional decorative pastries was indeed time-consuming and labor-intensive, but as long as the quantity was small, it could be treated as a leisure activity.

Qin Huai was confident in both the appearance and outer skin of his apple decorative pastries. The only thing lacking was filling preparation, since he hadn’t really worked on standard fillings before.

But that wasn’t a big issue—he could ask Zheng Siyuan to help prepare some.

After finishing his messages, Qin Huai resumed kneading dough.

Longevity noodles require one bowl per person—one single strand of noodle per bowl. The noodles should not be too thin; thicker noodles are more chewy. Technically, it may be less refined than hand-pulled noodles, but it still has its own difficulty.

Qin Huai estimated the number of employees at Huang Ji and planned accordingly, making extra bowls just in case—someone would definitely eat them.

When Zheng Siyuan arrived, Qin Huai was carefully rolling out noodles.

“Why did you decide to make noodles this morning?” Zheng Siyuan asked, somewhat surprised.

He had always assumed Qin Huai, as a breakfast shop chef, specialized in buns, steamed buns, and dumplings—he didn’t expect him to also have noodle skills.

Truly an all-around breakfast chef.

“The old gentleman Luo who gave me the pastry recipes also gave me a chicken egg noodle recipe,” Qin Huai explained. “I never had time to practice it before. At Yunzhong Cafeteria, mornings were too busy, and afternoons were spent practicing other things, as you know.”

“Now that I’ve changed environments, I thought I’d try practicing this new recipe.”

Qin Huai felt that Luo Jun was truly useful—any recipe that couldn’t be explained by his pastry system could be attributed to Luo Jun.

A truly versatile figure.

At that moment, Luo Jun, who had gotten used to waking up early and was currently watching TV in dissatisfaction without his tangerine peel tea, sneezed.

Luo Jun: Who’s dissing me?

Back in the Huang Ji kitchen, Zheng Siyuan, unaware that the omnipotent Old Luo in Yunzhong Community had just rubbed his nose, didn’t think much and said, “I see. You can also use employee meals to practice new dishes. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“What are you making this morning?” Qin Huai asked.

“Bubble wontons and thin-skinned wontons,” Zheng Siyuan replied while washing his hands and getting to work. “It’s a habit. If I don’t make some wontons early in the morning, I don’t feel right.”

The one who started it all, Qin Huai, continued kneading dough.

“Oh right,” Qin Huai said, placing the noodles into a bowl. “Around 10:30, could you help me prepare some filling for apple decorative pastries?”

“Apple decorative pastries?” Zheng Siyuan looked at Qin Huai in disbelief, as if saying, “You haven’t learned your lesson yesterday and you’re already trying to mess around again?”

“My father wouldn’t even dare to sell apple decorative pastries at Huang Ji.”

“Master uncle’s rule is that once a dish is on the menu, there’s no purchase limit—only sold out, no limits.”

“Master uncle believes that customers come to eat as a sign of respect to Huang Ji. Ordering as much as they like is their right and freedom, and as long as they eat it, it’s not considered waste. After all, with Huang Ji’s pricing, few people would order excessive amounts just to take away and not eat.”

“It’s not for the menu,” Qin Huai explained. “A friend of mine is coming today. I owe him a favor and want to make apple decorative pastries as a thank-you.”

Zheng Siyuan understood—this was a private arrangement.

Something Qin Huai used to do all the time at Yunzhong Cafeteria.

“How many decorative pastries?”

“Six.”

Uncle Wang had told Qin Huai that Qian Zhongheng had a family of five. Qin Huai felt five was not a good number, so six sounded better—and as the introducer, it wouldn’t be excessive for him to have two.

“Alright,” Zheng Siyuan agreed immediately. “Easy.”