AGN -Chapter 208 A Familiar Formula

Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan had planned things very well.

After finishing the plan, Qin Huai began making longevity noodles.

After staying at Huang Ji for so long, making longevity noodles every morning had almost become Qin Huai’s habit. Even during the days when he was practicing crab roe shumai the most intensely, he still made longevity noodles for breakfast.

Imagine this: on an otherwise unpleasant morning, upon arriving at the company you can have a freshly made bowl of steaming, hand-pulled, springy longevity noodles. The side dishes are simple—light and plain—but the broth is rich, with a strong chicken flavor.

Slurp down a bowl of noodles, then drink up the remaining chicken soup in big gulps. Smack your lips in satisfaction, then decide according to your appetite whether to cook a few wontons, add seaweed, or sprinkle some chopped scallions.

After going through this whole process, even a not-so-pleasant morning becomes enjoyable.

“Burp.” Dong Shi finished the last sip of noodle soup, licked his lips, and sighed softly, “If only Qin Huai could make longevity noodles for lunch too. I could definitely eat two big bowls at noon!”

The people from Zhiwei Ju said nothing, but inwardly they strongly agreed with Dong Shi.

Exactly—that’s right, they could eat two bowls too!

They could eat them right now!

Of course, eating two bowls was impossible. Qin Huai always made longevity noodles strictly according to the number of people. Even if Guo Mingzhu wanted some, Gong Liang would have to tell Qin Huai the day before, and Qin Huai would make an extra bowl for Gong Liang to take home.

After breakfast, everyone at Huang Ji began their busy work—except Zheng Da.

Zheng Da arrived at ten o’clock.

At that time, the queue outside had already stretched over a hundred meters.

Zheng Da strolled casually into the kitchen and, seeing Huang Shengli directing the overall operation, said cheerfully, “The queue outside seems longer than yesterday. If this continues for a couple more days and ‘Zhuwei’ gets published, won’t the line stretch into the neighboring residential area?”

Seeing Zheng Da like this, Huang Shengli couldn’t help but shake his head helplessly.

Every time he felt his junior brother was finally becoming reliable—finally showing signs of a master ready to take on apprentices—Zheng Da would remind him: no, impossible, he would not strive for improvement; he was still the same old slacker.

Huang Shengli glanced at the Zhiwei Ju members, who were working frantically, constantly bringing their prepared ingredients to Qin Huai for approval. Comparing themselves with Qin Huai, they felt Zheng Da’s situation was once again hopeless.

Indeed, nothing highlights differences more than comparison.

The contrast was too obvious.

If there was anything to criticize, the only minor issue with Zhiwei Ju was that they poured tea too frequently—Qin Huai had already gone to the bathroom twice that morning.

“Master Zheng,” Qin Huai said when he saw Zheng Da, putting down his work and walking over, “I have something I’d like to ask you.”

Zheng Da’s eyes lit up. “What do you mean ask? Go ahead, ask anything!”

“Do you know how to make ‘bai guo’ filling? The filling used in Si Xi Tangyuan.”

Zheng Da froze.

Silence fell—a silence so heavy it became awkward.

Zheng Da really wanted to confidently shout: Of course I can! A mere bai guo filling is nothing!

But in reality, he couldn’t.

This question had hit a blind spot in his knowledge.

He gave an embarrassed dry laugh. “Si Xi Tangyuan… I’m not very familiar with that pastry.”

“In the old state-run restaurant, we didn’t sell it.”

Qin Huai wasn’t too disappointed—he had already guessed as much. Just as he was about to say something and leave, Huang Shengli suddenly spoke.

“Is it something Gong Liang wants to eat?”

“Yes,” Qin Huai nodded. “Yesterday I asked Mr. Gong if there was anything he wanted to eat. He said that on his birthday he once had Si Xi Tangyuan made by Master Jing, and it left a deep impression on him. He really wanted to try bai guo-filled Si Xi Tangyuan again.”

“But after asking around yesterday, I found that very few shops still make bai guo filling these days, so I came to ask Master Zheng today.”

Huang Shengli smiled. “I knew it was him. You can take Gong Liang’s words with a grain of salt. He used to live next door to our master and had plenty of good food growing up. Back then, ingredients were scarce, and many dishes were only made during festivals. Anything he had even once or twice, he’ll describe as something he hasn’t had in years—something unforgettable that he must have again.”

Qin Huai: …

As expected of Gong Liang.

Hearing this, Zheng Da suddenly remembered.

“Is Gong Liang talking about the birthday the year he got engaged? Master made a huge pot of Si Xi Tangyuan. I wanted meat filling, you and Gong Liang wanted bai guo filling. But since all the tangyuan looked the same, I ended up eating so much I almost burst, and still only had three meat-filled ones.”

“That time when winter melon candy wasn’t enough, and I even went home to ‘borrow’ five jin.”

Huang Shengli nodded.

Zheng Da sighed. “If it was that time, I do remember the bai guo filling. Master brought out his best ingredients—top-quality preserved fruits and dried fruits, all expensive stuff. It made my heart ache. At least half should’ve gone into mooncakes. I actually prefer bai guo mooncakes.”

Qin Huai quickly asked, “Then Master Zheng, do you remember the ingredients used in that bai guo filling?”

Knowing the ingredients would make things much easier. Qin Huai believed different versions might vary, but generally they should be similar. If they knew the ingredients, they wouldn’t have to ask around elsewhere. With Zheng Siyuan, they could try researching it themselves, and if that failed, Zheng Da could help.

Although Zheng Da didn’t know how to make it, he could still study it.

“I don’t know.” Zheng Da shook his head honestly. “That was many years ago. Back then I was just making steamed buns at the state-run restaurant. Such delicate fillings weren’t handled by me.”

Qin Huai felt a bit disappointed.

“I remember.” Huang Shengli smiled. “Even though I don’t know how to make bai guo filling, I still remember the recipe from back then.”

Qin Huai: !

“That year, I helped Master prepare the ingredients for Si Xi Tangyuan, and I assisted in the kitchen during the process. It’s normal that Zheng Da doesn’t remember—I remember very clearly.”

After saying this, Huang Shengli glanced at Zheng Da and smiled faintly, saying nothing more—everything was left unsaid.

Zheng Da: …

For a moment, he wondered if his senior brother’s “aggressiveness” had been increasing lately.

“Since you want to study tangyuan, afternoon heat-control practice will be delayed by an hour and a half. First research the bai guo filling, then come train with me.”

“Thank you, Master Huang.”

“It’s nothing. You’re a pastry chef after all. It’s a good thing you’re willing to explore new items. I haven’t had bai guo Si Xi Tangyuan in many years either. If you and Siyuan can recreate it, I’ll get to enjoy it as well.”

As he spoke, Huang Shengli stared directly at Zheng Da without saying a word.

Zheng Da: ?

Zheng Da: …

Zheng Da: .

Zheng Da: !

Zheng Da understood.

“What do you mean I don’t like researching these things? I love researching new pastries now! Starting this afternoon, I’ll join you all. Siyuan hasn’t even made as many pastries as I have in terms of experience! He never liked bai guo or five-nut mooncakes as a kid—unlike me, I used to love bai guo mooncakes!”

Qin Huai smiled. “Then starting today, thank you for joining us in working overtime this afternoon, Master Zheng.”

Zheng Da beamed. “No trouble at all.”

Qin Huai returned to work. Huang Shengli glanced at Zheng Da, who showed no intention of working, and said quietly, “You should come earlier in the future.”

“You don’t even make it in time for Qin Huai’s breakfast. People who don’t know might think you look down on his cooking.”

Zheng Da: ?

Zheng Da felt it might be time to buy a house in the opposite neighborhood.

He lived too far away—getting up early was really too much.

…

With the help of Zhiwei Ju’s hardworking members, the kitchen’s pastry output continued steadily, delighting the queue of neighbors outside.

Today there were even more varieties than yesterday. Those still hesitating quickly came to buy—maybe they’d get lucky and manage to queue twice!

Although there were many customers lining up at the door of Huang Ji, those willing to wait from early morning until noon—standing in line for four hours just to buy a few extra buns and steamed rolls—were mostly nearby retired neighbors with plenty of free time.

…

“Qin Huai, have you heard? The customers outside got into five arguments today—two more than yesterday. The floor manager Cao has decided to launch an online queuing system, where missed numbers require re-queueing.”

At lunch, Dong Shi happily shared the latest gossip while holding his bowl. Seeing that Qin Huai’s lunch was braised eight-treasure duck made personally by Huang Shengli, he sneaked a bite.

Qin Huai wasn’t really listening.

He was studying the recipe Huang Shengli had just given him.

The recipe was handwritten. After so many years, Huang Shengli only remembered the types of ingredients and approximate quantities; the finer details were forgotten.

According to this recipe, the bai guo filling version from Jiang Weijin could be described as luxurious.

Apples, preserved osmanthus, raisins, dried apricots, date paste, longan meat, peach preserves, honeyed olives, plums, honey kumquats, hawthorn…

Walnuts, almonds, peanuts, sunflower seeds, sesame seeds, lotus seeds, hazelnuts, cashews…

The sugar was made by simmering winter melon candy with lard.

The ingredients were extremely rich—almost excessively so.

When Qin Huai saw this recipe, his first thought was: with so many nuts and preserved fruits, could anyone even eat it all? Even if it’s called “bai guo” filling, surely it shouldn’t contain this many ingredients.

And somehow…

He felt these nuts and preserved fruits looked familiar, as if he had seen this combination somewhere before.

He thought carefully.

He didn’t usually eat preserved fruits.

Luoluo didn’t either.

Even during New Year, the Qin family didn’t buy many preserved fruits, and the nuts they bought were simple—mainly peanuts and sunflower seeds.

Who, in his memory, had eaten so many kinds of nuts and preserved fruits?

Wait.

There was someone!

The “Crazy Miss”!

When she was in Beijing, she freeloaded at Taifeng Restaurant, constantly taking snacks with her. Her pockets were always filled with preserved fruits and dried snacks. Taifeng Restaurant, aiming to establish itself, provided high-quality preserved fruits and nuts for customers.

Qin Huai vaguely remembered that for dine-in guests, the luxurious fruit and nut platters were even served over ice and arranged beautifully.

Qin Huai quickly put down his bowl and went to ask Zheng Da: “Master Zheng, did Master Jing often make bai guo-filled pastries before?”

Dong Shi: ?

Was that gossip not interesting enough?

Zheng Da, holding his bowl, nearly spat out his food when asked this question.

“Very rarely,” Huang Shengli replied on his behalf. “In my memory, Master only made bai guo tangyuan two or three times, and mooncakes once. Our state-run restaurant didn’t usually sell this type of pastry.”

Hearing this, Qin Huai suddenly had a bold and somewhat absurd guess.

Perhaps Jiang Weijin wasn’t very skilled at making bai guo filling either.

His recipe was likely modeled after the preserved fruit and nut platters from Taifeng Restaurant back then.

Being the son of Jiang Chengde, he must have worked at Taifeng Restaurant as a chef or assistant. Because he wasn’t very skilled at bai guo filling, he used familiar ingredients to create a filling with very rich components.

And because he wasn’t skilled, he rarely made it.

As for why Huang Shengli and the others found it delicious—simply because Jiang Weijin’s skill level was high. Like Jiang Weiming, even newly created pastries were still delicious.

If Gong Liang wanted bai guo tangyuan made this way, Qin Huai roughly knew how to proceed.

Experiment freely.

This method of developing dishes was something Qin Huai excelled at.

Take Si Xi dumplings as an example—the chefs at Huang Ji had never eaten the “authentic” version? Didn’t they know Qin Huai’s version differed from the traditional one? Yet no one objected.

Because it tasted good, and it still looked like Si Xi dumplings.

In cuisine, taste is king.

The chef at Zhiwei Ju who made the “authentic” Si Xi dumplings yesterday wasn’t as good as Qin Huai’s version.

At Huang Ji, Qin Huai’s Si Xi dumplings were the true standard.

Qin Huai realized this, returned to his meal, and after finishing, excitedly discussed his testing ideas with Zheng Siyuan.

After several question marks, Zheng Siyuan concluded: as long as you’re happy.

If Qin Huai had decided so, he must have his reasons.

Thus, Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan began an intense round of bai guo filling experimentation.

Huang Anyao arranged for suppliers to deliver high-quality preserved fruits and nuts according to their list, providing solid logistical support.

As for methods, Qin Huai found several online.

Some required chopping ingredients, soaking part of them in brandy until softened, then chopping the rest, mixing everything together without cooking until it could be formed into a ball.

Others involved first making syrup by simmering winter melon candy, sugar, lard, and maltose, then mixing in chopped ingredients.

Another simple and rough method involved mixing flour, sugar, oil, and chopped preserved fruits and nuts together.

Considering Huang Shengli’s memory included a syrup-making step, Qin Huai leaned toward the second method—but for safety, they tried all three.

As expected, they failed all three times.

With such rich ingredients, overly sweet preserved fruits, large amounts of winter melon candy, and lard simmered together…

And most importantly, the filling was wrapped into tangyuan and boiled.

The result was predictable.

Overly sweet and greasy—far beyond balance.

After tasting his own tangyuan, Zheng Siyuan’s face turned green.

Perhaps since he stopped training under his father and Huang Shengli, he had never experienced such a major failure.

Qin Huai had successfully fixed a long-standing “no catastrophic failure” bug in Zheng Siyuan.

“Are you sure this method can actually lead to results?” Zheng Siyuan began to question life.

“Of course.” Qin Huai replied confidently, taking notes on his phone.

“This is just our first attempt. It’s normal. From today’s failures, we’ve already learned that we used too much winter melon candy, and the apricot flavor isn’t prominent—it’s being overshadowed.”

“The olives supplied by Huang Anyao’s vendor aren’t good enough. We should have him replace them.”

“When making syrup, we can be bolder with the lard—we were too conservative this time.”

“The sesame amount is too low. Even though the tangyuan is boiled, the sesame still retains a roasted aroma.”

“There are too many sunflower seeds. In the third batch, all I could taste was sunflower seeds.”

Zheng Siyuan: …

“You could still taste sunflower seeds? I wanted to spit out the third batch immediately after one bite.”

Zheng Siyuan realized he was far behind Qin Huai in dealing with failed experiments.

“What do you think?” Qin Huai asked.

Zheng Siyuan thought for a moment, then resignedly picked up his bowl and took a bite.

“I think… we should ask Tan Weian first,” he said, pointing toward Tan Weian, who had been occasionally watching them from the cooking station.

“When we were making the bai guo filling just now, he kept watching us. From his expression, I think he probably knows how to make it.”

Qin Huai: !

He immediately looked at Tan Weian—and just as he was about to invite him to join their testing team, he suddenly realized something.

They seemed to be missing a key member.

Where was Zheng Da?

He was the backbone of the team—the most skilled cook!

Although not very articulate, his culinary skills were beyond doubt.

“Where’s your dad?” Qin Huai asked.

“Oh, him,” Zheng Siyuan said numbly. “He ran away after tasting the first tangyuan.”

“I guess he felt our method wouldn’t lead anywhere, or he didn’t want to spend a month testing like this—eating such awful tangyuan every day.”

“If nothing unexpected happens, he’s probably gone home to research how to make bai guo filling.”

Qin Huai: …

Was it really that bad?

He took a bite.

It was indeed quite bad.

But that’s what testing dishes is like—first create extreme, even absurd combinations, then refine them gradually.

If you start with conservative methods, you won’t identify the core issues.

He took another bite.

Still couldn’t taste hazelnuts. With such expensive ingredients, the flavors shouldn’t be lost—something must be wrong with the combination.

He took another bite.

…Sorry, it was too bad. He didn’t feel like eating anymore.

At that moment, he suddenly missed Qin Luo.

If Luo Luo were here, that would be great.

Although her taste sensitivity wasn’t as refined as his, she could eat—and was willing to endure tasting.

Whenever Qin Huai tested dishes before, the initial failed versions were always eaten by Qin Luo.

If she could clearly detect something wrong, that meant the recipe needed adjustment.

Qin Huai calculated the days.

Qin Luo still had 20 days before her vacation.

Private schools really had late holidays.

He sighed deeply.

“What’s wrong?” Zheng Siyuan asked, thinking Qin Huai was discouraged by the food.

“Nothing,” Qin Huai replied. “Just missing Luo Luo.”

“During past tastings, these kinds of bad dishes were always eaten by her.”

Zheng Siyuan: …

For some reason, he suddenly felt Qin Luo had it quite tough too.

Looking at the tangyuan in his bowl, he silently thought: she really had suffered all these years.

When Qin Luo comes back for winter break, he must make her the best fresh meat mooncakes.