AGN -Chapter 169 Little Master Qin Is Truly Terrifying

In theory, a longevity noodle (chángshòu miàn) of A-grade requires A-grade noodles, paired with A-grade broth and A-grade cooking technique.

Qin Huai had none of these.

But that didn’t matter—no one else had ever eaten anything like that either.

Qin Huai felt that Huang Jia’s broth was already quite close to A-grade. He had never actually made A-grade pastries himself, so he didn’t have a very concrete concept of what A-grade truly meant.

But he had definitely tasted A-grade dishes before.

Huang Shengli’s cooking certainly included A-grade items. Zheng Da’s crab roe siu mai was also very likely A-grade. As for Zheng Siyuan’s fresh meat mooncakes, Qin Huai couldn’t be certain—but even if they weren’t A-grade, they were probably very close.

After all, he didn’t have a standardized grading benchmark.

Qin Huai knew that if he wanted to show off his skills, making fermented rice buns or locust flower buns would be the best choice. Those dishes best showcased fermentation techniques. But right now, he wanted to make longevity noodles instead.

The game system’s definition of fermentation grading was more like an overall evaluation of techniques related to dough—fermentation, kneading, mixing, and so on. Qin Huai felt that the system chose fermentation grading partly because of Dean Qin’s catchphrase.

Although it sounded absurd, Qin Huai had originally been taught noodle-making by Dean Qin.

Even though the dean herself wasn’t very skilled at it.

Because she wasn’t very good at it, she often confused kneading, fermenting, and mixing in her speech. Whenever the welfare home needed to improve meals—steamed buns, mantou, dumplings—she would tell Qin Huai: “If you have time, go ferment the flour in the kitchen.”

As for why she said “ferment the flour,” it was mainly for good luck. The welfare home had limited funding, and Dean Qin’s greatest dream was that one day a wealthy couple would come, adopt a smart and filial child, and years later that child would return to the welfare home, hand her a 5 million yuan check, and say: “Mom Qin, you don’t need to work so hard anymore. If the welfare home needs money in the future, just tell me. Use this 5 million to build things first.”

Later, that dream evolved into the welfare home raising a hardworking child who started from scratch and succeeded in business, and then returned years later to give her 5 million.

Then it became 500,000.

Eventually, it became 50,000.

And finally, 5,000.

After Qin Huai gave Dean Qin’s contact information to Luo Jun, the 5,000 dream should have been fulfilled—and with some luck, even the 50,000 one.

The only question was whether Dean Qin’s dream had now turned into Qin Huai providing her with contact information for 500 kind-hearted donors.

Sorry, that went off topic—back to the main point.

Qin Huai didn’t know whether the longevity noodles he was making today would amaze everyone, but he simply wanted to make them.

Huang Jia’s broth today was truly excellent.

It would be a waste not to use it for longevity noodles.

Just thinking about the small bowl of broth he had tasted earlier made Qin Huai’s mouth water.

Poor Ou Yang—he had been drinking broth for so long and hadn’t had a proper full bowl.

Qin Huai decided that when Ou Yang had time to visit Suzhou, he would secretly arrange it—find a big bowl, serve a full bowl of fresh hot broth from the kitchen, and let Ou Yang drink to his heart’s content.

Driven by his own desire to eat longevity noodles, Qin Huai began kneading dough with great enthusiasm.

After reaching a high level in fermentation skills, kneading became much more natural and effortless.

In a more abstract sense, the communication between the chef and the dough became deeper; they seemed to resonate with each other, understanding one another better, resulting in dough with more “soul.”

In simple terms, his technique improved, and the dough tasted better.

Dough must be kneaded according to the dish being made.

In theory, temperature, humidity, fermentation conditions—even the temperature of the chef’s hands and the bowl—can all affect the final dough. But in practice, it’s impossible to account for all of these factors. Only certain steps, like with fermented rice buns, require strict temperature control.

Most of the time, kneading dough relies on feel.

This “feel” is a real skill—the texture of the dough, whether it’s firm, soft, or airy, can be sensed through the hands. Adjustments must also be made by hand.

Feel comes from skill.

When your level is high enough, the feeling naturally comes. If your level isn’t there, no amount of meditation or prayer will give it to you.

After his fermentation skill reached a high level, his sense improved even further.

Qin Huai had taken on the responsibility of preparing staff meals at noon, but that didn’t mean he would make all the food alone. Longevity noodles were the staple, and since the number of Huang Ji staff was large, he increased the amount slightly according to headcount, but did not make one and a half or double portions.

Making too much would be exhausting.

To accompany the noodles, Dong Shi also prepared several side dishes—shredded potatoes, stir-fried green peppers with pork, tomato scrambled eggs, and the like.

With side dishes ready, rice was also available if anyone wasn’t full—plenty was provided, well organized.

Huang Ji closed at 1:00 p.m.

Normally, the kitchen would begin lunch service at 1:20 p.m. Service staff would eat slightly later, because closing at 1:00 didn’t mean customers would leave immediately. They usually had to wait until around 1:40 or even 2:00 to eat.

The staff had long been accustomed to this schedule. Although they got off work later than the kitchen staff, they also started later. And while the food at Huang Ji was decent, after eating it for a long time, it became ordinary.

Under normal circumstances, chefs like Huang Jia or Huang Shengli would not be responsible for staff meals. Staff meals were simple, mass-produced dishes focused on speed and convenience. There weren’t many variations, and eating them long-term made them predictable.

However, the pay at Huang Ji was quite good, so employees rarely quit unless there were special circumstances. Some servers had worked there for seven or eight years or even over a decade—longer than some chefs. They could tell which chef made which dish just by taste.

Eating staff meals wasn’t usually something to look forward to.

But today was different.

Today, Little Master Qin himself would be cooking staff meals. The news that he would be making legendary chicken broth noodles—something usually only the kitchen staff got to eat in the morning—had already spread throughout Huang Ji.

Everyone was eagerly anticipating it.

Even the smiles of the service staff were genuinely cheerful.

They smiled so sincerely that even diners joked, asking if something good had happened, why everyone looked so happy.

At 1:10 p.m., Qin Huai began cooking the noodles.

Longevity noodles could be cooked individually or in large batches—it didn’t matter. However, before cooking, Qin Huai hesitated.

He had chosen to make longevity noodles because he wanted to eat them himself.

Since he was the one who wanted to eat them, should he really be the one cooking them personally…?

Qin Huai turned his gaze toward Huang Jia, who was chatting with Dong Shi by the dry goods rack.

Noticing Qin Huai’s look for help, Huang Jia stepped forward on his own.

“Brother Jia, I’ve never cooked large batches of chicken broth noodles before. Could you help me cook them today?” Qin Huai asked somewhat embarrassedly.

He had volunteered to prepare staff meals, but now needed Huang Jia’s help to cook the noodles.

Little did he know that Huang Jia had been waiting for this moment for a long time—and was even getting anxious.

Ever since Qin Huai started preparing the noodles, Huang Jia had been hoping Qin Huai would ask him. He waited until the side dishes were ready and the noodles were about to go into the pot, yet Qin Huai still hadn’t asked. Huang Jia had nearly wanted to bring it up himself.

Why else would he be standing idly by the dry goods rack chatting? It was because that spot was visible and close—so Qin Huai could see him at a glance.

Without hesitation, Huang Jia said, “No problem. Leave it to me.”

With his skill, cooking chicken broth noodles was effortless.

A batch of noodles went into the pot. He stirred with ease, waited a few minutes, stirred again, then waited once more.

A bowl of perfectly fragrant longevity noodles was born.

Huang Jia not only cooked but also served.

As the senior brother, he was highly skilled at portioning dishes. Though today’s noodles didn’t require dividing—each bowl of longevity noodles contained a single long noodle strand. When serving, the entire noodle had to be placed into the bowl intact.

【Longevity Noodles — B+ Grade】

B+ grade longevity noodles!

Although not A-grade, this was already a qualitative breakthrough.

Previously, Qin Huai’s best longevity noodles were B-grade, and unstable at that—mostly B- grade.

He had been making longevity noodles regularly for breakfast, using standard chicken broth prepared in the kitchen. That broth was usually made by his second apprentice Bao Xiong or third apprentice Qi Tian. This was the first time he used broth personally prepared by Huang Jia.

It was hard to say who contributed the most to today’s B+ grade noodles. Qin Huai felt it was a combination of his noodles, Huang Jia’s broth, and Huang Jia’s cooking.

But since the system gave a rating, it meant Qin Huai’s contribution accounted for more than 50% or was the main factor.

Advanced fermentation clearly played a major role.

Huang Jia handed the first bowl to Qin Huai.

Chefs eat first.

Qin Huai didn’t hesitate and drank the broth first.

Delicious!

The broth made by Huang Jia was truly excellent.

Then he picked up his chopsticks, lifted the noodles, and slurped them into his mouth.

Mmm~

For many people, the primary requirement for noodles is chewiness.

If noodles aren’t chewy—soft, limp, or easily broken—many hand-pulled noodle lovers would feel they lack texture and soul.

By that standard, today’s longevity noodles had plenty of soul.

Hand-kneaded noodles are naturally chewy.

Repeated kneading and stretching result in noodles with strong texture—different from the elastic chewiness of steamed buns. The chewiness of noodles is more about the sensation during chewing.

The collision between teeth and noodles, the smooth slurping without sticking, the flavor coated with broth. Chicken broth is the perfect seasoning—its richness and aroma complement the subtle wheat flavor of the noodles.

“Slurp, slurp.”

Qin Huai couldn’t stop eating.

Even though he made the noodles himself, he had never tasted noodles this delicious before.

Turning something ordinary into something extraordinary is far more difficult than making something already elaborate stand out.

Qin Huai hadn’t made many noodles before, and he hadn’t expected such a significant success.

Although Huang Jia’s support played a major role.

But advanced fermentation was equally important.

Qin Huai finished the bowl.

He ate everything—noodles and broth—without pause. Aside from slurping sounds, he said nothing and focused entirely on eating.

He wanted another bowl.

But he was worried there wouldn’t be enough.

He had only made a few extra bowls, reserved for Huang Anyao, Huang Shengli, Zheng Da, and Gong Liang, who was still eating upstairs.

Since the noodles were already made, even if those four couldn’t finish lunch, they could eat them later in the afternoon after a few hours of rest.

Qin Huai was very good at preparing special portions for friends.

The core idea of “special treatment” was to always save a portion for friends when making something delicious—whether or not they were hungry.

Whether they ate it or not was their business; but if they didn’t, someone else surely would.

Qin Huai put down his bowl and looked around, noticing everyone was silently eating.

No one spoke. Even Dong Shi was fully focused on eating.

Indeed, when faced with a longevity noodle made from a single strand, no one could stop eating. Everyone instinctively slurped from beginning to end, and even if they bit it off, they did so inside their mouths—never letting it break outside.

Each person had only one thought:

“Damn… Qin Huai has been practicing crab roe siu mai recently, hasn’t he?”

“Hasn’t he been fighting crabs and shrimp every afternoon?”

“Didn’t he just eat chicken broth noodles this morning?”

“Why is this bowl at noon even better?”

“Is it because of Huang Jia’s broth?”

“But why are the noodles themselves also better? Better than this morning’s?”

“Wasn’t Qin Huai just casually making pastries all morning in front of everyone? Do genius white-bun chefs improve this fast just by practicing?”

“No gradual progress?”

“Just a sudden leap?”

“In cultivation novels, people break through suddenly… does that happen in cooking too?”

“Why are all our thoughts questions?”

The kitchen was filled with question marks.

Everyone didn’t understand—but kept eating.

While slurping aloud, their minds were full of silent exclamations.

Little Master Qin… truly terrifying.

Soon, word spread to the front of house that today’s chicken broth noodles were exceptionally delicious and that Little Master Qin’s skills had improved again. Rumor had it he was a “feeling-type chef,” and whenever inspiration struck, his dishes became especially good.

Even though the service staff hadn’t finished work yet and had never tried his noodles before, their smiles were already stretching wide.

They couldn’t help it.

Just thinking about what staff meal would be like made all negative feelings disappear.

So happy.

Being able to suppress laughter was already the best professional discipline they had.

Oh, they really loved coming to work.

If they could occasionally eat staff meals personally prepared by Little Master Qin, they could happily work for another ten years!

In private room 888, Gong Liang noticed the unusually cheerful mood of the service staff.

Gong Liang had always treated Huang Ji like his personal canteen.

At least that was the case when Huang Shengli was in good health. Recently, since Huang Shengli’s back wasn’t well and he cooked less often, Gong Liang had come less frequently.

As someone financially free, he had many dining options.

Unless Huang Jia brought out his full strength and prepared specialty dishes, it was hard to attract Gong Liang. After all, Cantonese and Jiangsu-Huaiyang cuisine were highly competitive.

Huang Shengli might call himself the top Huaiyang and Su cuisine chef in Suzhou, but Huang Jia wouldn’t even dare claim second place. There were still several excellent restaurants in the area.

Of course, Huang Shengli himself wouldn’t dare claim he was number one in Huaiyang cuisine either. There was a more renowned active master chef—Pei Shenghua—whose cooking Gong Liang also greatly enjoyed, especially at Cheng Fang Ju in Guangling.

“Xiao Ma, what’s the occasion? You’re all smiling so happily—did Huang Anyao raise your salaries?” Gong Liang joked, having already finished his meal.

The server Xiao Ma had worked at Huang Ji for nine years and was familiar with Gong Liang.

“Good news,” she smiled. “Today’s staff meal is prepared by Little Master Qin. I heard the chicken broth noodles are incredibly delicious—everyone’s waiting to eat!”

What?!

Gong Liang instantly lost interest in joking.

He suddenly regretted having eaten too much at lunch.

But it was fine—he could still manage a bowl. Luckily, he had only eaten about 80% full.

“One bowl will bring me to about 120% fullness—no problem.”

“I remember your restaurant allows manual ordering, right?”

Xiao Ma said, “Mr. Gong, after 1:00 p.m. the kitchen—”

Gong Liang waved his hand. “I know. My relationship with Little Master Qin—he must have saved a portion for me. Just ask.”

Xiao Ma went to inquire.

Eight minutes later, Gong Liang’s bowl of chicken broth noodles was brought into the private room.

Seeing how quickly it arrived, Gong Liang immediately understood.

Qin Huai always prepared food according to headcount. The fact that a bowl arrived so quickly meant he had already included Gong Liang’s portion.

Little Master Qin had him in mind.

It was mutual.

Gong Liang’s eyes grew moist.

But even faster than his eyes, his mouth watered.

“Slurp.”

One bite later, his eyes truly became moist.

So delicious!

Even though he had eaten it in the morning, the noon version was even better!

This bowl gave Gong Liang hope.

Little Master Qin made chicken broth noodles every morning, and already after such a short time, they were improving day by day.

Crab roe siu mai—he could definitely master it!

Eating one every day for a month was within reach!

Since Qin Huai even prepared a portion for him during staff meals, what was a month of crab roe siu mai?

After finishing the bowl, Gong Liang decided to double the red envelope he planned to give Qin Huai this year.

The previous amount was too small.

88,888 didn’t match Little Master Qin’s skill and thoughtfulness.

188,888 would be more appropriate!

Gong Liang absentmindedly licked his chopsticks.

He began considering buying the apartment next to Qin Huai’s.

Chefs at Huang Ji get four days off per month. If he bought the neighboring apartment, he could go there on those days and eat at Qin Huai’s place.

He should also buy Qin Huai a massage chair.

In case Qin Huai didn’t feel like going out to a clinic or didn’t want to trouble a therapist to come over, having one at home would be convenient.

The dining table should also be replaced with a larger one. The current one was too small for hosting guests.

Zheng Da really didn’t know how to rent properly—choosing such a small place made it hard to furnish.

Gong Liang, burping slightly, began planning a full renovation of Qin Huai’s living space.