AGN -Chapter 185 Explosive Orders

The next morning, Qin Huai unsurprisingly got up late again.

He woke up slightly earlier than the day before, but by the time his mind cleared and he could clearly see the time on his phone, it was already 7:45 a.m.

How should one put it—after working as a breakfast shop chef for so many years, and then experiencing over a month of being a pastry chef at Huang Ji, Qin Huai had deeply fallen in love with this profession.

You could wake up late.

Qin Huai had trained Zheng Siyuan to get used to early mornings, yet he himself had grown fond of sleeping in after working at Huang Ji.

Every time he thought about it, Qin Huai sincerely felt guilty toward Zheng Siyuan.

This time, Qin Huai did not publicly announce that he would be operating normally at Yunzong Cafeteria upon his return. The randomly appearing pastries yesterday had already given many regular customers an ominous feeling.

Instead of asking Qin Huai directly, people inquired via WeChat, either openly or indirectly, through Huang Xi and Qin Luo. Qin Huai had the two of them honestly tell everyone that he would only be staying for a few days this time, and while he would be making pastries during this period, it would not be on a stable schedule.

At present, the steady breakfast chefs at Yunzong Cafeteria were Chen An and Qin Congwen, while the pastry chefs were Pei Xing and Li Hua.

With that clarified in advance, Qin Huai had no psychological burden sleeping until 7:45. He got up at his own pace, washed up unhurriedly, took two cheese sticks and two dragon fruits he had “borrowed” from Luo Jun’s place out of the fridge, ate them, and then headed out to the cafeteria.

The morning joggers—the elderly men and women—were still holding their posts.

Grandma Ding had gone on an outing with her friends yesterday and only caught the tail end of the pastries when she returned. Today, she arrived early in the morning—around 6:30—and had been waiting in the cafeteria. When she saw Qin Huai arrive, she hurried over carrying a large bag.

“Little Qin, you’ve been away in Gusu for so long. You finally have time to come back. During your absence, I’ve been keeping an eye out for good locust blossom honey for you. Look, these are all high-quality ones.”

“There are three bottles here. If the honey is fine, I still have 26 bottles at home—I’ll bring them over later!”

Grandma Ding said with a bright smile.

Qin Huai instinctively reached out to take them.

During his time at Huang Ji, he hadn’t made locust blossom steamed buns many times. The regular customers there had nostalgia for fermented rice buns, and when locust blossom buns were sold alongside them, their sales were rather poor.

In addition, high-quality locust blossom honey that met Qin Huai’s standards was hard to find. Huang Anyao’s capacity was limited, and although the honey sourced from suppliers was decent, it still couldn’t match what Grandma Ding managed to procure. Over time, Qin Huai basically stopped making locust blossom buns.

Of course, this wasn’t a problem with the buns themselves—it was entirely due to Qin Huai’s own skill level.

Locust blossom buns were an S-grade recipe, but Qin Huai’s ability could only reach B-grade, and he still couldn’t fully understand the teaching videos.

Every time he thought about it, Qin Huai couldn’t help but facepalm. He couldn’t tell whether the issue lay with himself or with Jiang Chengde. Jiang Weijin also had two S- grade recipes—slightly lower but still within S-tier—and Qin Huai could understand his teaching videos.

While watching them, Qin Huai even felt a sense of familiarity. Jiang Weijin only had two disciples, both of whom had taught Qin Huai before—the teaching style of that lineage was something Qin Huai was very familiar with.

Qin Huai opened the honey jar, sniffed it, and examined its color. He didn’t taste it—he already knew Grandma Ding’s selected locust blossom honey would be top-tier among top-tier.

“I was just worrying that I didn’t have any locust blossom honey to make locust blossom buns. Grandma Ding, I couldn’t find such good honey in Gusu. Thank you for going through the trouble to find it for me,” Qin Huai said with a smile.

Hearing this, Grandma Ding’s smile grew even brighter, as if she could already imagine herself strolling through the Yunzong neighborhood this afternoon carrying two large bags of fermented rice buns. She even straightened her back a little more.

“It’s nothing. Little Qin, just come to me anytime you need it.”

Qin Huai didn’t continue the small talk and went to the changing room to put on his uniform before heading into the kitchen to make pastries.

Today, he planned to make only one type of pastry in the morning—Three-Ding Buns.

Yesterday’s B-grade Three-Ding Buns had given Qin Huai tremendous motivation. Many of his pastries could reach B-grade level, and some, like the earlier Three-Ding Buns, were already close to B-grade in daily performance.

From his own aesthetic judgment, Qin Huai felt that his B-grade fermented rice buns were better than his B-grade locust blossom buns; B-grade fruit pastries and fermented rice buns were about the same; B-grade longevity noodles were better than fruit pastries; and yesterday’s B-grade Three-Ding Buns were even better than the B-grade longevity noodles.

Locust blossom buns were the weakest—not because the recipe was poor, but because Qin Huai had made them too little and hadn’t fully mastered them.

Unable to understand the instructional videos, he subconsciously resisted practicing them. Knowing he couldn’t achieve the desired result, he avoided making them whenever possible.

Moreover, locust blossom buns were the most difficult among all pastries, with a unique fermentation method and no similar reference points. Qin Huai didn’t know how to reasonably downgrade an S-grade recipe, so although it was labeled B-grade, it didn’t feel like a typical B-grade item.

Fermented rice buns, on the other hand, were something Qin Huai did very well. The recipe itself was B-grade, and his execution was fully up to standard, though with limited upper potential.

In this regard, Qin Huai had never seen fermented rice buns above B-grade. Zheng Da’s version was probably slightly better than his, around a 60-40 comparison in Zheng Da’s favor, approaching A-grade but not quite reaching it.

Zheng Da had also told Qin Huai that when he worked at a state-run restaurant, although he made many steamed buns, he actually disliked making these basic pastries. He did them often but wasn’t particularly good at them.

Qin Huai could understand that sentiment. Zheng Da believed his skills were no worse than Huang Shengli’s and might even surpass him in talent, yet because he was a white-case chef—who were not valued as highly as red-case chefs at the time—he never became the head chef of the state-run restaurant.

Zheng Da had his own frustrations. What he liked and excelled at were complex, niche pastries such as crab roe siu mai, crab-flavored pastries, and lotus pastries. He enjoyed making fruit pastries too, but due to their high difficulty and lack of direct inheritance from Jiang Weijin, he couldn’t master them fully.

Basic items like steamed buns were not his preference. Even fermented rice buns, which he made well, were not something he particularly enjoyed.

That said, dislike didn’t mean he wouldn’t make them. According to Zheng Siyuan, Zheng Da made fermented rice buns every New Year without fail, because during Jiang Weijin’s time, they were a must-have dish on New Year’s Eve.

Fermented rice buns were now one of Qin Huai’s signature pastries, and he made them very well. However, he knew he had little room for further improvement in this item.

Because he had never seen anything better.

It sounded somewhat absurd—after all, in theory, a chef’s output should reflect their level directly. An A-grade chef should produce A-grade dishes, and an S-grade chef should produce S-grade dishes. Since Qin Huai was currently only at B-grade level, the highest quality he could produce independently would also be B-grade.

But Qin Huai felt that, for him, the recipe’s level mattered more than his own ability.

He needed excellent references to guide him—something to show him how it should be done and in what direction to improve.

Before obtaining the Three-Ding Bun recipe, Qin Huai had been making them for years. These meat-filled buns were Qin Luo’s favorite.

Even when his breakfast shop didn’t sell them, he would make large batches on weekends, holidays, or New Year’s, especially when Qin Luo did well on exams, storing them in the freezer so she could eat to her heart’s content.

In terms of practice volume, Three-Ding Buns and Four-Filling Dumplings were unmatched in Qin Huai’s repertoire.

However, after acquiring the fermented rice bun recipe, it quickly surpassed them and became his top item.

Now that he had just obtained the Three-Ding Bun recipe and tried it once, it had already overtaken all other pastries.

Qin Huai realized he truly needed high-level recipes in front of him to guide his improvement.

Even he himself found this method of progress somewhat absurd.

But regardless of how absurd it was, Three-Ding Buns were now his true trump card—no buffs, but delicious, and with huge room for growth.

Most importantly, he could understand the teaching videos—and he could practice them every day.

While Qin Huai kneaded dough, Li Hua and a highly skilled knife-hand helper diced ingredients, while An Youyou and another helper wrapped buns.

As for Pei Xing, he was both making pastries and trying to persuade Li Hua to switch roles with him—he would handle dicing while Li Hua returned to pastry work.

Anyone who has worked in a kitchen or trained professionally knows that to learn real skills from a master chef, the first step is to diligently assist them.

Pei Xing and Li Hua had originally thought they would be relaxing when they returned home, but now they realized they actually loved learning.

The two pastry chefs were competing to become helpers, while the only named helper, An Youyou, was considering whether she should pause practicing dough kneading and filling and instead learn knife skills first.

She didn’t understand why Pei Xing and Li Hua were competing to dice ingredients—but she did understand that they earned higher salaries.

Pastry chefs earned more than twice as much as breakfast chefs.

In places Qin Huai wasn’t aware of, the pastry chefs and helpers in the cafeteria were starting to hustle intensely.

Qin Huai didn’t think that far ahead. He simply felt that a community cafeteria was indeed different from a large restaurant.

Pei Xing and Li Hua, introduced by Zheng Da, were highly skilled—no doubt about that.

But the other helpers hired by the cafeteria were much less capable, nowhere near the level of Huang Ji’s staff.

At Huang Ji, every helper could be considered a future chef.

Especially those assisting Qin Huai—they were elite among elites. When Qin Huai worked at Huang Ji, Huang Jia had assigned Wang Jun specifically to assist him.

Wang Jun wasn’t particularly outstanding among chefs at Huang Ji and hadn’t even reached stove-head chef status; when Qin Huai was absent, he could only handle basic prep. But even so, Wang Jun was a direct disciple of Huang Shengli. His limitations at Huang Ji were due to the high standards there—placed in an ordinary restaurant, he would easily qualify as a master chef under a famous mentor.

The helpers at Yunzong Cafeteria, however, were just helpers.

Otherwise, Qin Huai wouldn’t have needed Li Hua to help dice ingredients.

Having high-paid pastry chefs doing helper work made Qin Huai feel a bit embarrassed when he said it—but thankfully Li Hua was good-tempered and enthusiastic, and agreed readily.

Qin Huai kneaded dough with a sense of melancholy.

So this is what it feels like to work in a big company?

He had only been back at Yunzong Cafeteria for two days, and he already found himself missing Huang Ji.

The customers waiting in the dining hall, of course, had no idea that their “Little Qin chef” had already returned to Yunzong Cafeteria—but was mentally still thinking about another restaurant.

They simply waited eagerly for the buns.

Some waited in the dining hall, others waited at their workplaces.

Since Qin Huai only arrived at Yunzong Cafeteria at 8 a.m., office workers couldn’t manage to get hot Three-Ding Buns before work. However, today Qin Huai was determined to train hard and produce buns at scale, operating with the same intensity as at Huang Ji, filling the kitchen with steam like a celestial mist—so there was no need to worry about missing out.

With Qin Huai’s assurance that the buns would be available until the end of lunchtime, many office workers felt reassured and happily bought buns made by Qin Congwen and Chen An before heading to work.

Those who really wanted to eat but didn’t want to waste stomach space bought a cup of soy milk to tide them over, then waited for the buns to come out to join group orders.

Today’s group-buying chat was bound to be lively.

At 9:19 a.m., the first batch of buns came out of the steamer.

Non-working neighbors queued up immediately to buy, even trying to negotiate prices while in line.

“Xiao Chu, we’ve known each other for months. Your grandpa comes here every morning to buy buns—we’re all family. The limit of 5 buns really isn’t enough. There’s more than one mouth at home! How about 15? Fifteen!”

“Grandpa Zhang, this first batch is limited. Please take 5 first. If it’s not enough, wait for the next batch—there are more steaming in the kitchen. Your five Three-Ding Buns, next.”

Grandpa Zhang retreated in defeat.

Grandpa Li squeezed up to the window.

“Xiao Chu, you know my situation. My grandson skipped breakfast today and is counting on me to bring him buns. A teenager has a big appetite—five buns aren’t enough!”

“Grandpa Li, you used that excuse yesterday—and yesterday was Sunday. You forgot your own lie. Your buns, next.”

Grandpa Li was defeated step by step.

Grandma Ding smiled brightly.

“Xiao Chu—”

“Grandma Ding, Chef Qin asked me to tell you he’ll be making Three-Ding Buns all morning today and won’t have time to make fermented rice buns. Your buns may be ready around 4–5 p.m. He knows your family has many grandchildren and that one basket may not be enough—would one steamer be sufficient?”

Grandma Ding immediately forgot whatever excuse she had just prepared and nodded repeatedly.

“Enough, enough. Little Qin is too considerate.”

At that moment, only one thought remained in her mind:

She was definitely going to take a stroll this afternoon.

Inside the cafeteria, the situation was intense; in the group chat, it was no less chaotic.

After more than a month of silence, the group chat became active again, with messages refreshing so fast that a certain unnamed server’s old phone nearly crashed.

Huang Xi had to manage orders in the chat, repeatedly confirming entries, assigning delivery personnel, coordinating with the kitchen on quantities of Three-Ding Buns, verifying payments, and checking accounts—so busy she could barely keep up. Eventually, she stood directly at the entrance of the kitchen to coordinate operations.

Qin Huai felt a strong sense of déjà vu.

Back when fermented rice buns first became popular at Huang Ji and regular customers rushed to buy them, the front desk manager stood in the same position at the kitchen entrance.

Qin Huai: …

He suddenly had a vague, ominous feeling.

Surely not—it shouldn’t turn into an explosive surge like Huang Ji here. This was his home turf; he knew the customers well. It shouldn’t get that crazy.

More importantly, today he wasn’t alone—he had a full team of six helpers.

Yes, after the first batch came out, he had added another helper.

Because the inexperienced helpers were too slow at wrapping buns, Zhao Rong also joined in. Chen An was downgraded from breakfast chef to helper supervisor, handling both steaming and wrapping.

Batch after batch of buns came out—and sold out immediately.

All of them were delivery orders.

Delivery staff were carrying foam boxes and rushing out nonstop.

By 11 a.m., Qin Huai saw a familiar delivery rider.

What was familiar wasn’t the job—it was the person.

If Qin Huai remembered correctly, this rider used to run the dedicated route between Yunzong Cafeteria and the hospital where Qu Jing worked.

An ominous feeling rose in Qin Huai’s heart.

He asked Pei Xing to keep an eye on the fillings simmering in the pots and walked to the counter.

“Hospital?”

“Yes! Little Qin chef, I was just wondering why suddenly so many orders came to Yunzong Cafeteria for Three-Ding Buns—so it turns out you’re back!” the rider said cheerfully.

“How many is ‘so many’?”

“About the same as back when the Chenpi tea exploded in popularity—orders are flooding in. Many of my colleagues are already heading this way. I happened to be nearby.”

“When will the next batch of buns be ready? Look at my orders—orthopedics, neurology, neurosurgery, obstetrics, cardiology, emergency… plus the inpatient ward, security guards, cafeteria staff…”

“Even the hospital cafeteria people are buying buns outside?”

Qin Huai also wanted to ask—why were hospital staff from all these departments buying buns outside?

Orthopedics, neurology, neurosurgery, obstetrics, cardiology, emergency, inpatient wards, security—had they all tried Three-Ding Buns before?

Didn’t they used to drink Chenpi tea?

Who leaked the news?

It’s 11 a.m.—why are you all eating buns at this time?

He had planned to get off work at 1 p.m. sharp!

Qin Huai silently walked back and looked at Pei Xing, who was still making pastries.

“Uh… Pei Xing, I have a small request.”

“Go ahead, Chef Qin!”

“Today the Three-Ding Buns might explode in orders. We may not be able to handle it. Could you also help with dicing—”

Before Qin Huai could finish, Pei Xing had already flashed to the prep station and picked up a knife.

Qin Huai: …

Do you like dicing that much?

He hadn’t even finished kneading the dough.

Qin Huai glanced at the dough on the board, took over, and continued kneading.

Li Hua was already helping monitor the heat on the simmering fillings.

Qin Huai trusted Li Hua’s skills—his control over heat was certainly better than his.

He had confidence in professionally trained chefs.