AGN -Chapter 205 Practice

Qin Huai wandered around the kitchen for a while and noticed that the six people at Zhiwei Pavilion all followed a very uniform training method—they repeatedly made the same kind of pastry.

This was a very traditional way of practice. Qin Huai had trained this way before when making crab roe shumai. The difference was that when he practiced, Master Huang Shengli and Master Zheng Da were supervising him. If obvious issues appeared, they would point them out immediately; if the issue wasn’t obvious but might be something Qin Huai could discover himself, Zheng Da and Huang Shengli would wait and see whether he would repeat the same mistake the next time.

However, the six people at Zhiwei Pavilion had no masters guiding them. When problems arose, they had to rely entirely on self-discovery and self-reflection. They might have to wait until they were completely stuck before finding a suitable moment to seek guidance from a senior master.

This kind of practice would make their culinary progress very slow. Problems couldn’t be pointed out in time; instead, they would persist and be triggered repeatedly. By the time the cook became aware of them, bad habits had already formed. Then, correcting those habits would require a tremendous amount of time and effort—far more than one could imagine.

At that moment, Qin Huai finally realized the importance of the role of a master in a chef’s learning process.

No wonder everyone wanted to find a good master.

…Wait, that wasn’t right—he himself hadn’t had a master in his early years either, and hadn’t he still made it this far?

The value of “Pastry Compendium” kept rising.

Holding a teacup, Qin Huai strolled around, occasionally offering casual pointers when he noticed obvious mistakes.

“Your filling ratio is clearly off. Adding so many spices completely overwhelms the original flavor of the ingredients. Whether steamed, fried, pan-fried, or boiled, good pastries shouldn’t use such heavy seasoning—and this is still a pork filling.”

“Kneading isn’t done like that. ‘Knead’ and ‘rub’ are two different actions. At this stage with the dough, what you need to do is repeatedly knead and press to expel the air. Look at Gu Li—that’s the correct way to knead.”

“What are you making now? Four-joy dumplings? You’re using four fillings for four-joy dumplings? What’s the issue… no, I’m just a bit surprised. Once this batch is steamed, let me try some. I’ve never had such authentic four-joy dumplings before.”

“This…”

Qin Huai hadn’t originally intended to go around giving critiques.

He couldn’t resist stepping in to say a few words when he saw Gu Li practicing, because Gu Li’s fundamentals were exceptionally solid—almost textbook-level basics. If he didn’t say anything, it would feel like a waste of the Pastry Compendium.

Qin Huai only meant to comment casually, but unexpectedly, Gu Li not only listened—he immediately made adjustments. Although the results weren’t ideal, his determination was deeply admirable.

Then, when Qin Huai wandered over to another person—someone whose name he couldn’t recall but who had poured him tea that morning—he couldn’t help but offer a few more remarks.

They adjusted quickly.

He looked at another one—this one had also poured him tea.

One comment.

Immediate correction.

Next one—this one served tea.

Another comment.

Not only did they adjust, they even added, “Thank you, Master Qin.”

As expected of someone who served tea.

The next person… this one hadn’t poured or served tea—this was Tan Weian.

Qin Huai hesitated for a moment, but still spoke.

Tan Weian didn’t immediately make changes. Instead, he discussed with Qin Huai, going over the pastry’s methods, techniques, effects, and underlying principles in detail. He even emphasized what his late grandfather, Master Tan, used to make, how it differed from his current work, and asked for Qin Huai’s advice.

Qin Huai’s advice was simple: practice more.

Tan Weian was the most skilled among them, the grandson of a renowned master. His fundamentals were solid, and he had learned many techniques. He didn’t have major issues, though minor ones were inevitable—no chef is without flaws.

Qin Huai believed Tan Weian hadn’t reached his grandfather’s level simply because his skill wasn’t there yet. The solution, like his own approach: practice more.

Such a blunt suggestion, however, was fully accepted by Tan Weian, who immediately began practicing more.

At this point, Qin Huai realized that the people at Zhiwei Pavilion were remarkably receptive to advice.

Especially the regular apprentices—whatever you told them, they would do it. Even pointing out two flaws while passing by felt like a New Year’s celebration to them.

Qin Huai suspected this was due to Zhiwei Pavilion’s highly competitive environment. There were many highly skilled masters, as well as seemingly ordinary ones who actually possessed unique specialties.

These masters typically didn’t take formal apprentices, but they also didn’t hide their knowledge. They taught directly in the kitchen—those in the corners could learn as much as they were capable of.

For masters who did take apprentices, this was a way to evaluate candidates. The apprentices observing from the sidelines were potential disciples. Who learned quickly, who had good character, who worked diligently—everything was visible.

The apprenticeship period was essentially a probation period. It could last one or two years, or even three to five. Very few could persist for more than five years, since apprentices earned extremely low wages—barely enough to live on. It was a hard job with little pay and heavy workload.

For ordinary apprentices without connections, winning a master’s favor was their gateway to advancement. Humility and eagerness to learn were essential traits.

This model was very traditional, reminiscent of apprenticeship systems from the last century or even earlier. Apprentices trained under this system tended to become highly capable successors.

After realizing that everyone here was well-suited to being apprentices, Qin Huai decided to use them as practice.

He also remembered that before coming to Huang Ji, he had promised Chen An and An Youyou that he would guide and teach them.

As for Pei Xing and Li Hua, the recruitment notice had already stated that they could learn skills.

Qin Huai had never taught others before. The only time he had ever tutored someone was helping Qin Luo with schoolwork—and nearly being driven mad by him—so he felt it was better to leave such tasks to professional tutors.

Since arriving at Huang Ji, Qin Huai had always been the student, taught by two masters with very different styles.

Now that a group of students so well-suited to being taught had appeared, Qin Huai felt it was time to practice his teaching skills.

Zhiwei Pavilion’s hard-working crew—please excuse him.

“You’re making plum blossom sponge cake, right? The red bean paste you used is from the freezer? Frozen red bean paste isn’t suitable for plum blossom sponge cake. That batch was made four days ago for triangular sugar buns, with double the sugar content.”

“If you’re going to practice plum blossom sponge cake this month, I suggest you take some time today to make a fresh batch of red bean paste. Different pastries require different fillings—even if it’s the same red bean paste, you can’t use it universally.”

Qin Huai took another sip of tea and realized the cup was empty.

“Master Qin, I’ll go refill your tea.” One of the helpers reacted instantly.

Qin Huai waved his hand. “No need, I’ll… oh, Master Huang is here.”

He set down his teacup and walked toward Huang Shengli, who was standing by the warehouse door, holding his phone and seemingly recording something.

Huang Shengli paused the recording and sent the video to Zheng Da without saying a word.

“Xiao Qin, you’re starting to show the bearing of a true master,” Huang Shengli said with a smile.

“Not really. I’m just observing everyone while I have time and saying a few things casually to practice my speech. When Master Zheng was recruiting for the canteen, he promised to teach skills in the job posting—I need to practice first, or I won’t be able to say anything when the time comes,” Qin Huai replied.

“Zheng Da is really reckless. Who includes that in a recruitment notice?” Huang Shengli shook his head.

“Master Huang, how do Huang Ji’s recruitment notices usually look?” Qin Huai asked curiously.

“Just list the position and number of hires, salary negotiable,” Huang Shengli said. “Usually we don’t even post notices—apprentices come seeking us out on their own. I don’t usually handle such matters; Anyao and Huang Jia take care of it.”

Qin Huai: “…Sorry to have disturbed you.”

Large restaurants really could operate however they pleased.

“Today we continue practicing heat control. Your stir-fried pork from yesterday improved—keep going today. Fry a few dishes for me to see.”

“Got it!”

Qin Huai instantly turned back into apprentice Xiao Qin.

For most of the afternoon, Qin Huai stood at the stove, wielding his spatula with full effort while Huang Shengli observed and occasionally offered guidance—an instructive and harmonious master-apprentice scene.

The scene was so harmonious that it left the five people at Zhiwei Pavilion stunned.

Why five? Because Gu Li didn’t pay attention—he remained focused at his workstation, absorbed in making pastries.

Tan Weian hadn’t expected that Qin Huai was learning from Huang Shengli rather than Zheng Da. When Dong Shi came in to taste the dishes, Tan Weian pulled him aside and asked: “Who exactly is Master Qin’s teacher?”

“Qin Huai doesn’t have a master,” Dong Shi replied. “He’s just here to learn and exchange.”

Tan Weian: ?

He looked at the friendly Huang Shengli, then at the studious Qin Huai, and at the textbook-like master-apprentice scene before him, and couldn’t help but raise his voice: “Which restaurant teaches like this?”

“My master and senior uncle teach exactly like this,” Dong Shi said matter-of-factly. “When Qin Huai was learning crab roe shumai before, my master and senior uncle were both watching. Qin Huai would make one batch, and Master Zheng would make one too—sometimes Qin Huai made one batch and Master Zheng made two. In a day, Master Zheng ended up making more shumai than Qin Huai.”

Tan Weian drew in a sharp breath, his eyes filling with a newfound sense of hope.

At Zhiwei Pavilion, this learning exchange was essentially interpreted as being short-staffed and brought in to do manual work.

Most apprentices didn’t like coming here. Staying in Zhiwei Pavilion might at least give them a chance to catch a master’s attention—maybe not as a formal disciple, but even a few pointers would be valuable.

Coming to Huang Ji, on the other hand, was truly just manual labor. Aside from slightly higher pay and travel allowances, there was nothing else.

Tan Weian had volunteered to come with his junior brother because he knew life had been difficult for him at Zhiwei Pavilion since his grandfather passed away. The junior brother was also a workaholic who wished he could work 24 hours a day, so this trip was meant to help him relax.

He also hoped Zheng Da would, out of past acquaintance, offer some guidance. Unfortunately, Tan Weian himself wasn’t very skilled at teaching.

And his junior brother was stubborn—ordinary masters couldn’t teach him; only guidance from a true expert might work.

But now…

“You Huang Ji people really mean it when you say ‘learning and exchange’?”

“When will Master Zheng…” Tan Weian asked.

“My senior uncle won’t be at Huang Ji this afternoon,” Dong Shi replied. “He’s not needed for Qin Huai’s heat training. He definitely won’t appear in the kitchen at all today.”

“If you have questions, just ask Qin Huai directly. He prefers straightforward communication.”

“Oh right—did Master Zheng mention work hours? It’s best if you come around 8:30 in the morning.”

“I know. White-case work requires early preparation like kneading and proofing. We’ll arrive before 7:30.”

“That’s not what I meant. Around 8:30 is when the chicken noodle soup is ready—it’s perfect for breakfast at that time.”

“Let me tell you, Qin Huai’s chicken noodles are incredibly delicious! You’ll know after you try them. That’s definitely his second—no, third best dish!”

Tan Weian: ?

That afternoon, Qin Huai finished his satisfying heat-control practice and left work under Dong Shi’s despairing gaze, which seemed to say, “Oh my god, we’re eating braised vegetables again tonight.”

On the way to the bone-setting clinic, Qin Huai checked his heat-control proficiency:

(4721/10000)

Some progress—but not much.

Previously, his heat control improved steadily without deliberate practice, but even after focused training, the growth rate hadn’t changed significantly. It was nowhere near the 30,000 proficiency points he gained in a month from seasoning skills.

Still, that was normal. Crab roe shumai was currently the most suitable pastry for leveling seasoning proficiency, but he hadn’t encountered a dish equally suited for heat control.

There simply wasn’t one that matched his current level.

As a white-case chef using red-case methods to train proficiency, Qin Huai inevitably felt some mismatch.

In the evening, Qin Huai brought takeout dinner and met Ou Yang at the clinic. Whether or not they actually needed treatment was secondary—they mainly liked eating there.

The environment was good, there was heating, and there was even a delicious fruit platter.

For some reason, the clinic had even installed a dining table in the private room. It hadn’t been there the first time Qin Huai came; it appeared the second time.

Ou Yang had brought mala tang with him. Eating a 32-yuan mala tang alongside Huang Shengli’s personally prepared dishes, Qin Huai felt he should apologize to Huang Shengli when he bit into a fish roe dumpling.

“I heard Xu Cheng went to Shanghai today and booked pastries for tomorrow night. He made a round trip just to eat your six items—does he really plan to try everything you can make?” Ou Yang said while devouring sweet-and-sour pork.

“Who did you hear that from?” Qin Huai asked.

“Brother Huang Anyao told me during lunch. Isn’t he the young master of Huang Ji?”

“You had lunch with Huang Anyao?” Qin Huai was shocked.

“Yes. He said his discount is higher than yours—60% off—so I used his discount,” Ou Yang nodded.

Qin Huai almost cried. As the young master of Huang Ji, Huang Anyao only got a 60% discount.

“Xu Cheng went to Shanghai today. The editorial department of Zhiwei is there. It’s almost January, and I heard they want to release the issue before January 3rd. He probably went to handle matters related to the magazine,” Qin Huai said while eating an orange. “Have you found a place to stay?”

“I’ve found one—right above your place. I’ve signed a one-month short-term lease. I’ll move in when Luoluo arrives,” Ou Yang said confidently.

“By the way, I have something else.”

“Sister Hong called me at noon and asked me to help find a short-term rental in Gusu. Huihui will be on holiday on January 4th, and she plans to bring her here for a month.”

“She said the delivered dried tangerine peel tea still isn’t as good as freshly bought ones. Are there any other good dried tangerine peel teas in the city?”

Qin Huai almost wanted to say that poverty limited her imagination—but then remembered Ou Yang was a rich second-generation heir and concluded that he simply lacked imagination.

“You just help Sister Hong find a place. And eat less mala tang.”

“Huh?” Ou Yang instinctively took another big bite.

“Tonight I’m making a new pastry—four-joy tangyuan, large rice dumplings. Save some room.”

Ou Yang felt this was underestimating him. Who did Qin Huai think he was—did he really need to save room for a few dumplings?

“Don’t worry, I can handle it!”

“Bring it on. Professional taste tester—reliable.”