AGN -Chapter 199 Truly Impressed by Your Huang Ji’s Customers

One of the benefits of having a new roommate move into the house is that fruit gets eaten much faster.

There was no helping it—Gong Liang had given way too much. The cleaning lady replaced the fruit so frequently that every time Qin Huai returned home and saw the fruit platter, he felt a lot of pressure.

He worried that if he ate any slower, the cleaning lady might end up opening a fruit shop herself.

On the first day Ou Yang moved in, Qin Huai decided to take him to Huang Ji to broaden his horizons—to have a real “private kitchen” meal.

In reality, it was just Huang Ji’s breakfast: Qin Huai’s longevity noodles and Zheng Siyuan’s wontons.

Since Ou Yang wasn’t an employee of Huang Ji, it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to enter the kitchen. Qin Huai told him to stay at home or wander around nearby and see if there was anything he needed to buy. He would message Ou Yang when the longevity noodles were almost ready so he could come over.

They would eat at the kitchen doorway.

This was a hidden way of eating at Huang Ji—the last person to eat at the kitchen door like this was Gong Liang.

Speaking of Gong Liang, Qin Huai had spent some time scrolling through his social media before entering Huang Ji.

Gong Liang was still in Fenyuan, enjoying himself so much he didn’t want to leave.

Every mealtime, he would post photos—likely taken by his daughter. The dishes were photographed beautifully, making Qin Huai so tempted that he even considered spending a fortune to book a reservation at Fenyuan and go to Beijing to taste the craftsmanship of this legendary current number one Chinese chef.

Inside Huang Ji’s kitchen, Zheng Siyuan had already started making wontons.

Every day was the same: Zheng Siyuan arrived early and left early, doing nothing but pastry work. During work hours, he rarely spoke to other kitchen staff; the person he interacted with most was Qin Huai.

Today, Zheng Siyuan unexpectedly spoke first.

“You’re going to become famous,” Zheng Siyuan said.

“Huh?” Qin Huai’s hand paused mid-pour of flour, nearly covering himself in it. “I feel like… I’m not exactly a nobody, am I?”

To be honest, Qin Huai felt that after coming to Gusu, he had gained quite a bit of reputation.

Although he hadn’t attended any industry academic exchange conferences yet, he believed that he was at least somewhat well-known. In Gusu, if you asked around, who didn’t know Master Qin of Huang Ji?

As for academic exchanges… Huang Anyao had advised him not to attend.

They were boring, and apart from those hosted by Zhiyueju, the food at other events wasn’t good either. Huang Shengli never attended; he always sent Huang Anyao in his place, and since he couldn’t understand the talks and couldn’t eat well, it was pure suffering.

According to Huang Anyao, only Zheng Da liked attending such exchanges. That’s because attendees weren’t all chefs—there were also people like him, freeloaders and restaurant owners.

Zheng Da ran a pastry business and usually attended these conferences to promote and distribute his products.

“I’m not talking about that,” Zheng Siyuan said. He stopped wrapping wontons, washed his hands, took out his phone, and opened Xu Cheng’s Weibo for Qin Huai to see.

Qin Huai glanced at it and noticed that Zheng Siyuan had followed Xu Cheng’s account for 611 days.

Coincidentally, Xu Cheng’s Weibo account had also been active for 611 days.

Xu Cheng had posted a long Weibo at 3:21 a.m. the previous night. It was lengthy and full of rambling, roughly saying that he had eaten too many pastries during the day, couldn’t sleep at night because he was too full, and since he still had a food review to write, inspiration struck and he wrote continuously until 3 a.m., feeling very dedicated and confident that he wouldn’t miss deadlines for next year’s opening issue.

In short, it was a self-praising post.

However, what stood out was that Xu Cheng included several photos—images of pastries made by Qin Huai. The plates used were custom-made by Huang Ji, with a large and unmistakable logo printed on them.

It was hard not to suspect that Xu Cheng had deliberately posted this Weibo as promotion for Huang Ji.

The comment section was also lively, filled entirely with Qin Huai’s fans—enthusiastic locals from Gusu who rode bicycles every day at noon to queue for buns and steamed bread, strongly recommending them.

[“As expected of Mr. Xu, such refined taste! Master Qin had only been at Huang Ji for over a month, and you already discovered him!”
— Loyal believer of fermented rice buns]

[“Will it become even harder to buy pastries in the future? Nooo! [crying emojis]”
— The boss who deducts $50 if I’m one minute late]

[“Huang Ji has a new white-dough chef? I thought they didn’t have one before?”
— Who’s best at digging up talent]

Qin Huai even saw a comment from Zheng Siyuan himself:

[“Master Qin’s pastries are very delicious and worth recommending.”
— Zheng (double-flip wok training version)]

Qin Huai wanted to persuade Zheng Siyuan to stop practicing so hard—after all, they were white-dough chefs; there was no need to cling to stir-fry techniques.

But since Zheng Siyuan had publicly praised himself…

Fine, keep practicing, brother. I’ll make you two bowls of longevity noodles today!

Qin Huai handed the phone back to Zheng Siyuan: “I didn’t expect Mr. Xu to post a Weibo specifically for promotion.”

Zheng Siyuan looked deeply at Qin Huai, realizing he still didn’t understand the significance of Xu Cheng’s post.

Qin Huai: ?

“Do you remember what it was like the first couple of days you arrived at Huang Ji?” Zheng Siyuan asked.

Qin Huai remembered clearly. Back then, regular customers thought Zheng Da had been brought in by Huang Shengli to work, and the rush to buy pastries was like a wartime food scramble—people feared there would be none left if they didn’t grab some.

At that time, Qin Huai had just arrived and wasn’t used to such high-intensity work, nor was he as skilled at delegating tasks to helpers as he was now. Making pastries nearly exhausted him to death.

“Back then I lacked experience. Now even if demand increases by 30%, I can keep up,” Qin Huai said confidently.

He was no longer the Qin Huai of before. He had trained at Huang Ji for a month and then returned to Yunzhong Cafeteria for another four days of intensive practice.

Now, even if he went back to his hometown in Quxian for the New Year to make steamed buns, he wouldn’t be intimidated!

“Before Huang Ji was featured in Zhiyue, there were no fixed business hours,” Zheng Siyuan suddenly began telling a story. “Back then, Master Uncle relied on his youth and good health. He felt that since customers traveled far to come, they deserved to be served no matter how late.”

“Then Huang Ji was featured in Zhiyue.”

“Master Uncle held on for a week, but eventually couldn’t keep it up and had to set business hours to avoid overworking himself into the hospital.”

“During that week, customers started lining up at five or six in the morning and continued until two or three at night. Even when the kitchen had run out of dishes and only a couple of bundles of greens remained, customers were still willing to eat just vegetables.”

“That’s Xu Cheng’s influence.”

“In an era when communication wasn’t advanced and print media ruled, Xu Cheng’s influence was beyond your imagination.”

“With just one food review and a few words of praise, his followers would travel from afar—even flying across oceans—just to taste a dish he recommended.”

Qin Huai was somewhat surprised after hearing this.

How should he put it—he knew Xu Cheng was impressive, but he didn’t realize he was that impressive.

Hearing the same words from Huang Anyao, Dong Shi, and Zheng Siyuan carried different weight.

Huang Anyao was fan bias, Dong Shi was a gossip enthusiast, while Zheng Siyuan was credibility itself.

“Then didn’t you miss out by not letting Xu Cheng taste your cooking yesterday?” Qin Huai said.

He felt that Zheng Siyuan’s overall skill was actually above his own.

Zheng Siyuan had formal training, well-rounded, a true “hexagon warrior.”

During this time, Qin Huai had been improving rapidly, and Zheng Siyuan had also progressed. For example, his pleated wontons and bubble wontons had improved significantly.

If Zheng Siyuan could stop obsessing over wok tossing and spend his afternoon practicing pastry instead, his progress might be even greater.

“Xu Cheng already tasted my cooking two years ago,” Zheng Siyuan said.

“You’ve been featured in Zhiyue? Which issue? I need to buy it for my collection!” Qin Huai’s eyes lit up.

Zheng Siyuan shook his head. “No. At that time, I just wanted to sell pastries near my neighborhood. I didn’t want fame or to appear in Zhiyue, so I declined Xu Cheng’s interview.”

“And now?”

“Still the same. My master uncle’s health has improved, and he’ll probably be back at work in half a month. Huang Ji can’t be without a pastry chef during the New Year. I plan to help until after the Lantern Festival, then return to my pastry shop.”

“I still think my skills aren’t good enough,” Zheng Siyuan said. “Maybe one day, when I feel they are sufficient, and a decent restaurant offers me a position as head chef, I’ll leave the pastry shop and work elsewhere.”

Qin Huai chuckled while kneading dough: “That might be difficult. I heard from Huang Anyao that currently the only well-known restaurant specializing in white dough is Zhiyueju. I checked the rankings in the Famous Chef List yesterday—the head chef of Zhiyueju ranks 41st, the lowest is 97th. If you want to be a head chef there, you’d need to rank within the top 40.”

It was well known that Zheng Da had once ranked 53rd on the Famous Chef List, and due to dissatisfaction with the ranking, he refused it outright.

And Zheng Da’s skills were definitely above both Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan.

Even Zheng Da could only reach 53rd. For Zheng Siyuan to aim for 40th…

Unless he had a system cheat, it would be extremely difficult.

“Those are just future plans,” Zheng Siyuan said, continuing to wrap wontons.

After a while, he suddenly realized something—they weren’t originally talking about Qin Huai?

How did the conversation shift to himself?

“My dad saw Xu Cheng’s Weibo this morning and contacted several chefs from Zhiyueju, arranging to borrow a few assistants for you,” Zheng Siyuan said, bringing the topic back.

“Assistants?” Qin Huai was shocked. “Zhiyueju can lend assistants?”

Is their business that comprehensive?

What kind of training ground for white-dough chefs is this?

“Special times call for special measures,” Zheng Siyuan said calmly. “My dad is worried you might get overworked these few days.”

“And it’s not exactly borrowing assistants—it’s more like study exchange.”

These few days are minor. The real workload will come once Zhiyue is released.

With unlimited pastry orders at Huang Ji, Zheng Da worried his future prized disciple might be exhausted.

Qin Huai continued kneading dough, amazed by everything he was experiencing.

At 8:40 a.m., everyone at Huang Ji, along with Ou Yang sitting at the kitchen doorway, began eating longevity noodles.

Ou Yang, who had never eaten longevity noodles made with such high-quality broth, almost licked his bowl clean. After gulping down a large bowl of noodle soup, he shamelessly asked for another half bowl before heading out to explore the area.

After breakfast, Qin Huai began his official work.

Today’s menu included premium three-delicacy buns, fermented rice buns, and mung bean cakes.

Yesterday while making mung bean cakes, Qin Huai felt a bit rusty, as he hadn’t made them in a while, so he added them to the menu to practice.

He didn’t need to make too many. Most customers came to Huang Ji for fermented rice buns. After the success of the three-delicacy buns yesterday, those would likely sell well too.

Mung bean cakes would just be an extra item.

Huang Ji’s mung bean cakes were expensive. Although Qin Huai’s tasted better than those outside, in terms of value for money, ordinary pastry shops were still more economical.

Master Qin, working as usual, had no idea what was about to happen.

At 10 a.m., the service staff had not fully arrived yet. They usually clocked in at 10:40, though some came earlier.

Today, the floor manager arrived late—at 10 a.m.

The reason was somewhat embarrassing: she was too excited and couldn’t sleep the night before.

She had worked at Huang Ji since its opening and was deeply attached to it. In recent years, as business declined, she had been anxious but helpless.

Now, things were different—a real turning point had arrived!

Xu Cheng had come!

If Huang Ji could appear in Zhiyue again, it would unquestionably become Gusu’s number one. With Huang Anyao’s management and Huang Shengli’s leadership, Huang Ji would surely rise again.

The manager even pedaled her bicycle with extra energy that day.

Then she was stunned upon arriving at the entrance of Huang Ji.

At 10 a.m., before business hours had even started, a long queue had already formed outside.

A very long queue.

At least forty to fifty people.

The manager nearly gasped.

It had been many years since she last saw this scene.

The last time she saw it, Huang Shengli’s back hadn’t yet had issues.

She quickly rushed inside, changed clothes, and went into the kitchen, where she found Huang Shengli, Huang Anyao, and Zheng Da all present.

Huang Shengli had changed into work clothes but wasn’t sitting idle; instead, he was directing everyone.

“Alright, Xiao Jiu, stop cutting vegetables. You and Qin Huai have good coordination—go take over Old Liu’s station and watch the filling in the pot.”

“Old Liu, manage the others.”

“Siyuan, keep an eye on your dad so he doesn’t slack off. Why are you looking at me? I’m talking about you!”

“You weren’t forced to come help—it was you who called me early this morning, saying there would be a lot of customers today and not to let Xiao Qin get too tired. I know you well—you have no issues with your back, so what’s wrong with working a bit more? My back isn’t fully recovered yet. If it were, I’d be helping Xiao Qin knead dough right now.”

“And Anyao, your fundamentals from when you were young are practically gone. Forget it—you’re not useful here, go wash vegetables over there.”

Huang Anyao: QAQ

Huang Shengli turned around and saw the manager.

“Xiao Cao, you’re here,” he said with a smile. “Did you see the queue outside?”

The manager nodded vigorously.

“With Xu Cheng’s Weibo post, business will surge again. These days, you’ll need to work harder and manage both the dining hall and the queue. Since there are so many people lining up, we’ll start selling pastries earlier today—11 a.m. Any issues?”

“No problem!” the manager said firmly. “Rest assured, Huang Master, our service team will not hold the restaurant back!”

At noon, Xu Cheng—who had learned from yesterday’s experience—didn’t arrive by bicycle this time. Instead, he and his assistant arrived nearby and slowly walked toward Huang Ji.

Originally, he hadn’t planned to eat at Huang Ji today.

But his draft from the previous night had been too good, too smooth—it left him hungry in the middle of the night.

He was craving pastries.

To avoid overeating like yesterday, he planned carefully: for lunch, just one three-delicacy bun, one fermented rice bun, and a bowl of Chenpi tea—nothing more.

He didn’t notify anyone in advance.

If he came without notice, he wouldn’t get a private arrangement.

And he wouldn’t overeat.

Xu Cheng felt his plan was perfect.

Until he reached a street corner 200 meters from Huang Ji.

What did he see?

A queue stretching as far as the eye could see.

Xu Cheng was stunned.

He even saw people at the end of the line eating while queueing—the very fermented rice buns and three-delicacy buns he had come for.

As his assistant was about to ask what was going on, Xu Cheng stopped him and approached personally.

“Hello, is this the line for—”

“Yes, yes! This is the queue for Huang Ji pastries!” an elderly man at the end said enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, young man—it looks long, but it moves fast. At most forty… maybe an hour, and you’ll get in. When you do, buy more—but not too much, or people might get upset.”

Xu Cheng: ?

“Sir, haven’t you already bought some?” the assistant asked.

“Oh, don’t mention it. The first time I queued, I didn’t know better and bought too little. Right after, I heard someone say that a food critic named Xu posted on Weibo recommending Huang Ji. They said there would be a huge rush these days, and today, with fewer out-of-towners, it would be the least crowded.”

“I got scared and rejoined the line to stock up at home. Let me remind you—these fermented rice buns are best bought in quantities of at least ten, otherwise it’s not enough!”

Xu Cheng: ……

Are Huang Ji’s customers always this crazy when buying things?

He had heard that Huang Ji never imposed limits on dishes—only banquet dishes were restricted. Everything else on the menu could be ordered freely, with no hidden or VIP menus.

But…

This was a bit too exaggerated, wasn’t it?

Five minutes later, Xu Cheng, after making a phone call, managed to get his three-delicacy bun, fermented rice bun, and Chenpi tea through a private arrangement. He walked around outside eating buns with his assistant.

He never expected that one day he would have to call in favors just to get buns and steamed bread.

As for why he wasn’t eating inside…

Because he hadn’t reserved a private room today, assuming he would just take the food to go—and there were no seats available inside anyway.

As for why he was still lingering near Huang Ji instead of leaving…

Because the next batch of mung bean cakes wasn’t ready yet.

Xu Cheng thought: Since I’m already here, I might as well have some mung bean cakes before leaving.