AGN -Chapter 176 Apple Pastry Fruit (A-Rank)

Qin Huai was glazing the pastries.

It had been a long time since he last did this. At Huang Ji, Qin Huai rarely made fruit pastries. When he did, it was usually for proper apple-shaped pastries made for Gong Liang.

Now, suddenly having to glaze so many pastries at once, he felt a bit rusty.

And the result of that rustiness was that the colors he applied were extremely abstract—historically poor in execution, yet paradoxically of a transcendent quality.

So good that—

【Apple Pastry Fruit – A Rank】

Qin Huai stared at the pastries in his hands, completely stunned.

A… A rank?

How did this become A rank?

Was it because Huang Shengli had recovered well over the past month, his waist improved, and his stir-frying technique using the tossing method made the filling better than before?

Or was it because Qin Huai’s dough-making had reached a higher level, giving him better control over the dough, resulting in a more suitable texture for the pastry?

Or perhaps it was because his rusty glazing had produced such ugly colors that, under certain buffs, it triggered an A-rank outcome?

No—that wasn’t it. The glazing only affected the probability of triggering buffs; it didn’t affect the overall grade.

Qin Huai examined the pastry carefully.

Beautiful shape. Ugly color.

It looked like it had just been scooped out of a palette of paints.

But at that moment, this still slightly warm pastry looked incredibly appealing in Qin Huai’s eyes.

Because it was A rank!

Qin Huai had never before made a pastry that the system classified as A rank. Without having achieved it before, there was no real benchmark.

He had previously speculated that with only advanced-level skills, it would be impossible to produce A-rank pastries—even with a burst of performance.

There was a strict barrier between ranks.

In novels, a Golden Core cultivator might defeat a Nascent Soul cultivator by bursting beyond limits, but here, no matter how much an advanced skill “burst,” it couldn’t produce an A-rank pastry.

Yet now he had done it—with the enhancement of Huang Shengli.

This made Qin Huai even more convinced: at least one key skill must be raised to master level to produce A-rank pastries.

The oddly shaped pastry lay obediently in his palm, quite heavy—nearly half a jin—offering generous portions.

Qin Huai knew pastries were best eaten hot.

This dish was essentially a meat-filled pastry wrapped in a dough shell. The outer layer was thick, while the filling was juicy. The dough wrapped around the filling tightly, locking in the juices. When freshly steamed, even if it felt only slightly warm on the surface after a minute or two, a bite would still burn the tongue.

So glazing should be done while hot, and eating immediately after glazing was ideal.

Qin Huai knew it might still be a bit hot to eat now, since this was the first one he had made.

But he couldn’t wait. He wanted to taste his first A-rank pastry right away.

Without hesitation, Qin Huai took a big bite, swallowing both skin and filling in one go.

The savory meat juices mixed with the sweet aroma of carrot paste spread across his mouth, scalding him so much that he kept sucking in breath. He could only alternate between hissing and chewing while carefully savoring and swallowing quickly.

An A-rank pastry was completely different from a B-rank one!

It wasn’t that B-rank pastries were bad—rather, they simply didn’t fully bring out the strengths of this dish.

Anyone who had seen the recipe knew that the filling was essentially the standard bun filling.

But Qin Huai knew more. He knew that this dish was originally created by Jiang Weiming, a red-case chef who wasn’t particularly skilled in pastry-making, essentially applying red-case cooking thinking to create a white-case dish.

In B-rank form, the filling was the highlight—delicious, juicy, combining savory, sweet, and fragrant flavors, making it addictive.

The dough and shape were merely supporting elements.

But A-rank was different. The dough was no longer just a support—it became the perfect partner to the filling. Its texture, elasticity, softness, and firmness—all of it, including how the dough absorbed juices versus parts that didn’t—were perfectly balanced.

The harmony between dough and filling made it a uniquely satisfying, meat-lover-friendly pastry that beautifully incorporated the sweetness of carrot.

At that moment, Qin Huai realized he may have underestimated Jiang Weiming’s culinary skill.

Because he had seen memories, he had assumed the pastry was designed with the filling as overwhelmingly more important than the dough.

And knowing Jiang Weiming was a red-case chef, he had naturally assumed the dish prioritized red-case techniques over white-case craftsmanship.

He had never considered that Jiang Weiming might have designed it as a truly well-balanced pastry, rather than simply forcing bun filling into dough.

In that moment, Qin Huai couldn’t help but feel admiration—Jiang Weiming was truly an incredible chef.

As Qin Huai ate quietly, not far away Qin Luo stared in disbelief.

Qin Luo: ?!

Why did her brother glaze one pastry and then stop, and just start eating it?

Brother, you weren’t like this before!

Before, whenever there was something delicious, you would think of me first. At the very least, we’d each get half, right?

Shouldn’t you glaze two—one for you, one for me—so we can eat together first?

It’s not that she was greedy… it’s just…

That pastry looked so delicious.

He was eating it so seriously.

It looked way better than anything he had made before.

Qin Luo: I want to eat too QAQ

Unfortunately, Qin Huai didn’t hear her inner cries. He was too focused eating, so much so that he began recalling a high school memory.

There was a girl he had secretly liked back then. She sat in front of him, was the math class representative, and collected homework every morning.

She wore a loose school uniform, tied her hair in a ponytail, and loved eating his family’s buns. She often gave him money and asked him to bring buns for her in the morning.

Soon, more and more classmates asked him to help buy buns—even students from other classes. Eventually, his backpack couldn’t fit all the buns anymore. His father, Qin Wenwen, would drive him to school in a small van every morning, carrying bags of buns along with his schoolbag.

Almost the entire school knew him—some even thought he was a food delivery guy.

Later, even the vice principal approached his father, asking whether they would consider supplying breakfast buns for the school cafeteria. But Qin Wenwen declined, not wanting Qin Huai to be seen selling food at school.

At that time, it might have resembled the typical drama where a poor heroine is mocked for selling snacks at school gates.

During winter, Qin Wenwen would prepare large foam boxes to keep food warm. Qin Huai would carry one into school while his father waited outside with another—many parents had also placed orders.

By the time Qin Huai snapped back to reality, the pastry was already gone.

He then realized something—he had triggered a “buff” from the pastry.

Tasting the flavor of love.

But what did that have to do with love? The memory he just recalled had little to do with romance.

Could it be… that what he truly loved was the days of delivering breakfast to classmates?

Back then, the family breakfast shop made good money, but it was also exhausting. Most of the buns he brought to school were made by him early in the morning.

A truly heartwarming era of shared buns and friendship.

When Qin Huai finally cleared these random thoughts from his mind and reached for the next pastry, he looked up—and saw Qin Luo’s resentful gaze.

Qin Huai: …

He had been so absorbed in the A-rank pastry that he forgot about her.

“Hurry up, Luo Luo, you must be hungry. Come have one.”

Qin Luo immediately dropped her crispy snacks, ran over, and took a bite.

“Mm!!!”

She was too overwhelmed by the taste to speak.

Qin Huai quickly finished glazing the rest of the pastries.

Soon, two oddly shaped but undeniably A-rank apple pastries were completed.

He handed one each to Pei Xing and Li Hua.

The two had been working efficiently—one rolling dough, the other wrapping fillings—and soon the prepared filling was nearly gone.

They paused and began eating the pastries.

Neither of them spoke.

When people eat truly delicious pastries, they rarely make noise—only occasional soft exclamations.

In the quiet kitchen, pastries kept emerging from Qin Huai’s hands.

Outside, the elderly patrons had already started lining up.

Inside, Qin Huai glazed one, handed one out, and silently enjoyed each bite.

Some even had tears in their eyes, though no one knew exactly what flavors they were tasting.

When Ou Yang walked in excitedly, the scene almost made him think he had entered the wrong place.

He nearly took out his phone to call the police.

But he quickly realized what everyone was eating.

Pastries!

Without knowing what had happened, he decided to try one first.

After one bite—

He also fell silent.

His eyes reddened.

He felt like grabbing Qin Huai and shaking him dramatically, asking:

Why?

Why had Qin Huai been gone from Yunzhong Cafeteria for over a month?!

Did he know how he had been living these past weeks?

No extra money for snacks, limited funds, no good food to enjoy.

Why make him accustomed to daily pastries, only to suddenly take them away—and then return with something this good?

Qin Huai… my good brother… don’t leave again…

I miss you.

Truly miss you so much that tears almost flow from the corners of my mouth.

After silently finishing the pastry, Ou Yang discovered there was another one—and nearly cried with joy. He even changed clothes and went into the kitchen to sit and eat more.

Soon, the crab roe siu mai came out of the steamer.

Qin Luo tried to grab one immediately, but Qin Huai stopped her—freshly steamed siu mai were extremely hot.

After cooling slightly, Qin Luo took a bite.

“So good! Brother, this siu mai is delicious—I like crab roe again!”

Qin Huai noticed something: unlike the pastry, siu mai allowed people to speak while eating.

Ou Yang was also eating, silently, eyes slightly red.

Qin Huai glanced at him.

“Steam got to you? I told you not to stand so close.”

Ou Yang sniffled and stepped back, his eyes still misty.

Ou Yang had decided.

Even if he had once lost 6.6 million in a failed venture and his parents hadn’t beaten him, this time—even if they would—he was going to follow Qin Huai to Suzhou.

He was set on it.