AGN -Chapter 211 Overtime

Qin Huai realized that he might have underestimated Zhi Wei.

Not that he truly looked down on it—he knew Zhi Wei was impressive, and he also knew Xu Cheng was impressive. Like every chef, he deeply recognized the value of the “Famous Chefs List.”

But he hadn’t expected everyone’s reaction to be this exaggerated.

Dong Shi and his brother Dong Li had already grabbed a new copy of the magazine and were trying to use a magnifying glass to examine the three photos in the article, searching for whether even a corner of their clothes had been captured.

According to Dong Shi, when the photographer from Zhi Wei came to take pictures, he deliberately squeezed closer to the camera. There was a good chance that at least the corner of his clothes—or his shoes—might have been captured.

If he appeared in the frame, rounding it off would basically mean he had “appeared in Zhi Wei.”

“Haha, Mom, I’m going to bring honor to the family!”

Qin Huai felt that the two brothers might be a bit insane.

Turning around, he found that Huang Jia wasn’t doing much better. The usually composed and steady senior brother was now smiling kindly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes nearly creasing into view.

Huang Jia had arrived earlier than Qin Huai. When Qin Huai reached the shop, Huang Jia was already on page three of Zhi Wei. Now that Qin Huai had finished reading Xu Cheng’s article, Huang Jia was still on page three.

To someone who didn’t know better, it looked like he was memorizing it.

Then there was Qi Tian, who didn’t have many appearances in the article—he sat in a corner, holding the magazine and grinning foolishly.

Wang Jun was even worse—he actually laughed out loud, emitting the honest, hearty “hahaha” laughter typical of a simple, sincere person.

As for Cao, the shift supervisor who had been repeatedly saying they needed a meeting—this was too important to not have a meeting—she was pacing back and forth, tracking her steps on WeChat.

Qin Huai really wanted to ask: is appearing in Zhi Wei really that worth celebrating? It’s just a magazine—why does everyone look as if they’ve won five million yuan in a lottery?

But he didn’t need to ask. Everyone’s reactions already clearly told him that, to them, being featured in Zhi Wei was even more exciting than earning five million.

They hadn’t even been featured yet and were already this excited—if they actually made it in, wouldn’t they celebrate for three days straight? Maybe they’d buy a thousand copies and stand at the entrance of Huang Ji handing one to every passerby.

Zheng Da’s energetic shout interrupted everyone’s “performance art”:

“Breakfast is ready! Four Happiness Tangyuan are out of the pot!”

Hearing that breakfast was ready, everyone who had been grinning foolishly lined up to receive their bowls.

Happiness could be savored slowly, but if breakfast got cold, it would be hard to stay happy.

The six people from Zhiwei Ju did not participate in the chaos outside. They wanted to, but since it had nothing to do with them, they simply received several copies of Zhi Wei from Zheng Da and placed them in their lockers before continuing their work.

As a result, when it came time to eat the Four Happiness Tangyuan, they were at the front of the line.

When Qin Huai entered the kitchen to get a bowl and queue up, Gu Li was waiting at the warehouse entrance, holding a bowl of steaming hot tangyuan.

All four tangyuan looked identical—simple, round shapes.

“Chef Qin, I’m not sure how much you can eat. When Chef Zheng made the Four Happiness Tangyuan, he didn’t separate them by filling or shape. All flavors look the same. I’ve served you four pieces—if you finish them, just call me and I’ll get you more,” Gu Li said respectfully.

Qin Huai hadn’t expected someone to serve his tangyuan for him. Slightly surprised, he took the bowl: “Thanks. You go get yours…”

Before he could finish, Gu Li had already returned to the end of the line.

Qin Huai thought: Alright, the apprentices at Zhiwei Ju are quite professional.

If he ever took on apprentices in the future, he’d definitely go recruit from Zhiwei Ju.

…Wait, that sounded a bit strange.

Never mind. Not important.

Qin Huai looked at the four tangyuan in his bowl.

They were very standard—round, plump, with a beautiful porcelain-white sheen that seemed faintly glossy. They looked so refined and appetizing that even a raw photo would appear high-end without filters.

Making such beautiful Four Happiness Tangyuan required more than just dough skills—it also depended heavily on the cooking.

He glanced at the large pot used to boil them. It was the custom large pot normally used for stock. Zheng Da probably used the biggest pot he could find and cooked them all together.

Cooking everything in one style and one pot—eating tangyuan like opening blind boxes—was exactly the same as what Gong Liang had described.

Could Zheng Da have intentionally recreated that scene on this special day?

Qin Huai picked up his spoon and began opening the “blind boxes.”

One bite.

Black sesame filling.

Hot.

Very hot.

So hot it made Qin Huai want to tap dance.

Qin Huai had a low tolerance for heat. Previously, he always ate the savory fillings first to buffer before moving on to sweet ones. This time, he had bad luck—he opened a sesame filling first, which nearly made him dance.

“Hiss—”

He inhaled sharply several times from the heat.

Hot—but delicious.

With Zheng Da’s skills, making ordinary tangyuan was trivial. He could probably dominate the market in front of any elementary school within three days.

Qin Huai slowly finished the sesame one, then cautiously scooped up the second and took a small bite.

Meat filling.

Relieved, he ate it comfortably—it was also delicious.

Third blind box.

Black sesame again.

Fourth.

Red bean paste.

A complete failure in blind-box luck.

At that moment, Qin Huai understood why Gong Liang and others in the past had eaten until they were full and rolling their eyes.

It was frustrating.

After eating so many large tangyuan and still not getting the flavor you wanted, it was hard not to keep going.

Qin Huai realized he was already somewhat full.

These tangyuan were quite large—bigger than the ones he had made a few days ago.

But he felt he could still manage one more!

Noticing Qin Huai’s intention, a quick-eyed chef from Zhiwei Ju rushed over, respectfully taking his bowl.

“Chef Qin, would you like another serving?”

Qin Huai nodded slightly and raised one finger: “Just one.”

“Right away!”

The chef quickly served him another large tangyuan.

Qin Huai took a careful bite.

Five-fruit filling!

He was nearly moved to tears with joy!

Finally—no need to eat a sixth one!

If he had to eat a sixth, being this full so early in the morning would make it hard to cook afterward.

Qin Huai narrowed his eyes and carefully savored the tangyuan that Zheng Da had spent several days researching on his own.

First impression—this wasn’t bad.

At Zhi Ji Kitchen, that alone was already high praise for five-fruit filling tangyuan.

Secondly—it was sweet.

Qin Huai knew that sounded like a cliché review, but after several days of failure, he deeply realized that being sweet—and not bad—was actually the highest praise for five-fruit tangyuan.

Why were the tangyuan he made earlier so bad? Not only his, but Zheng Siyuan’s were also bad, and Tan Weian’s were downright terrible.

It was because they followed Huang Shengli’s recipe, which resulted in sweetness that was messy and unpleasant.

The sweetness was chaotic.

Different preserved fruits mixed together didn’t create a delicacy—they lacked hierarchy, were disorganized, numbing to the palate, and overwhelmed it with excessive sugar.

Because the sweetness was wrong, the variety of preserved fruits became a flaw rather than an asset.

In contrast, Zheng Da’s version had the “right kind” of sweetness.

It had clear structure. When eating it, one could distinctly identify which preserved fruit flavors were dominant. The nuts could also be perceived as intended. Everything was organized and deliberate.

It was like a regular army.

Qin Huai’s previous attempts were more like a chaotic interstellar battle.

He took another bite.

Hmm… why did this main ingredient feel familiar?

After another careful taste—wait, this five-fruit filling didn’t seem to have that many ingredients.

Wasn’t this the same recipe that Tan Weian had obtained from Chef Zhou at Zhiwei Ju?

The flavor was slightly richer, but not by much. A few additional nuts were used, but only in very small quantities—so little that they hardly affected the overall taste.

Qin Huai felt puzzled. He looked up, trying to find Zheng Da, and spotted him near a sack of flour in the corner, so he walked over.

Zheng Siyuan arrived even faster.

“Dad, is today’s five-fruit filling made using the recipe from your senior brother?” Zheng Siyuan asked directly, asking the question Qin Huai had been about to ask.

Zheng Da, still squatting and examining the flour, replied without looking up, “Of course not. Your senior brother’s recipe—can that even be made by humans? Let alone five-fruit filling, I wouldn’t even use it to cook porridge—it’s too mixed.”

“This was slightly modified after your father consulted and discussed with a very reliable senior chef in the industry over several days of study. It uses ten ingredients!”

“Look, today’s version uses ten ingredients. Tomorrow it’ll be twelve, the day after fourteen. Given time, your senior brother’s messy recipe will definitely be figured out.”

“I even doubt whether his recipe is real. I vaguely remember that back when Master made five-fruit tangyuan, he used many kinds of nuts and preserved fruits. Nuts might have been cheaper then, but high-quality preserved fruits were rare—it took a long time just to gather enough ingredients.”

“But did he really use that many? Could that recipe have been made up?”

“Dad, stop changing the subject. Just tell me—did you get the recipe from Chef Zhou at Zhiwei Ju?” Zheng Siyuan pressed.

Zheng Da:?!

He looked up in shock—silence said it all.

The father and son stared at each other for over ten seconds before Zheng Da finally spoke slowly: “How did you know? Did you secretly go buy pastries at Zhiwei Ju?”

Zheng Siyuan: “…Tan Weian knows this recipe too. We tried it yesterday with Qin Huai—it’s fine.”

Zheng Da: …

He had miscalculated—he had forgotten that Zhi Ji Kitchen now had Tan Weian, a direct disciple of Zhiwei Ju.

“This recipe being fine only proves your senior brother’s recipe is problematic! How can such a recipe even exist? How could a single tongue possibly distinguish so many fillings in one bite? If everyone could taste that many ingredients, wouldn’t everyone be a food critic?” Zheng Da muttered.

Just then, Huang Shengli walked in briskly with a radiant face, giving Qin Huai an approving glance before striding over to Zheng Da.

“I heard you badmouthing me just now. Zheng Da, you’ve been missing for a few days—why are you speaking so quietly now?” Huang Shengli said.

“Why are you looking for me?” Zheng Da asked, puzzled.

“It’s written in the article—you’re the ‘trainer of the steed.’ Now that the steed has become famous, chefs from Southeast Asia to the Atlantic Ocean are coming just to see it. Shouldn’t the trainer also step up and contribute?” Huang Shengli said.

Zheng Da: ?

“Get to work,” Huang Shengli said simply.

Zheng Da: “…What work?”

Zheng Da knew this wasn’t the time to slack off.

Failing to figure out the five-fruit filling and being exposed by his own son was already embarrassing enough. If he didn’t step up now, it would be hard to advance from “trainer” to “master.”

He was willing to pass the title of “trainer” to Huang Shengli—he’d prefer to be a master instead.

“Specific tasks will be discussed after I hold a meeting with Xiao Qin and Xiao Cao. For now… don’t idle. Knead some dough.”

Zheng Da: ?

So he had become a helper?

“Your fermented rice buns aren’t bad either. Help Xiao Qin make some for now. We’ll have a meeting to decide the new menu.”

“Let’s go, Xiao Qin—we’re heading upstairs for a meeting.”

Qin Huai nodded and followed Huang Shengli upstairs into private room 111.

Inside the room, Cao had already prepared for the meeting, with pen and paper ready to take notes. Beside them was an unfinished bowl of Four Happiness Tangyuan.

It was clear Cao wanted to eat breakfast, but due to excitement, had no appetite.

“Xiao Cao, you go first,” Huang Shengli said after sitting down with Qin Huai.

“Alright!” Cao stood up excitedly, full of energy as if rejuvenated by ten years.

“I’ll first talk about the most pressing issue facing Huang Ji right now.”

“Queues!”

“I’ve read the Zhi Wei article 18 times this morning. More than half of the food descriptions recommend fruit pastries. This is an entirely new and unfamiliar dessert for most diners. Chef Huang, do you remember when Huang Ji first took over the state-run restaurant and you introduced the Three Delicacies Banquet?”

“I do,” Huang Shengli replied.

“Although Huang Ji’s best period was when it last appeared in Zhi Wei, I believe the era of the Three Delicacies Banquet was the restaurant’s most glorious time.”

“At that time, the state-run restaurant had closed. The most famous places in Suzhou were newly opened restaurants. When you took over, no one had high expectations—after all, you had been the head chef of the state-run restaurant, but that place had already failed.”

“Everyone knew the closure had nothing to do with your skills—it was purely management issues. The previous manager was absurd, refusing to put your signature dishes on the menu, claiming they were only for entertaining officials. But by then, who would even come?”

“To many people, a closed old establishment is inferior to a rising new one.”

“When Huang Ji first opened, business wasn’t great. Even after updating the menu, many old customers still saw it as the old state-run restaurant with a new name—lacking prestige compared to newer, more luxurious places.”

“So you introduced the Three Delicacies Banquet.”

“That became the foundation of Huang Ji.”

Huang Shengli nodded slightly. “Indeed. The renovation funds for Huang Ji mostly came from Gong Liang. At the time, he said it was an investment to comfort me, but in my heart, it was a debt. That pressure made me work day and night on the Three Delicacies Banquet to repay him.”

“To this day, Gong Liang still jokes that I forgot my roots after making money—back when Huang Ji opened, the Three Delicacies Banquet was always available, but now you need a special occasion like a wedding or divorce to eat it.”

Cao brought the discussion back:

“Now, fruit pastries are Huang Ji’s new Three Delicacies Banquet.”

“Back then, Huang Ji overturned its reputation and attracted countless out-of-town customers, even businesspeople who specifically came to Suzhou just to eat the Three Delicacies Banquet. It became the signature dish—unique, unmatched in Suzhou and nearby cities.”

“Fruit pastries are the same.”

“The Zhi Wei article has given them massive exposure. They’re even more novel and mysterious than the Three Delicacies Banquet. Previously, customers lining up came because of Xu Cheng’s posts—they didn’t have a specific dish in mind. Starting today, customers are coming specifically for fruit pastries.”

“From today on, all callers will want only this one item.”

“Chef Huang, this dish must be limited,” Cao said firmly. “It can’t be sold like fermented rice buns or pork buns with separate queues. If it is, Huang Ji might have people lining up 24/7 from today onward.”

Huang Shengli knew she wasn’t exaggerating. He had witnessed firsthand how eager customers could be after reading Zhi Wei.

After thinking for a moment, he said:

“Let’s make fruit pastries dine-in only.”

“Limit one per person. Each one is quite large—over half a jin—enough for one person.”

“What about pricing?” Cao asked.

“Don’t set it too high—keep it under triple digits. You decide what feels appropriate.”

“No membership cards, no bundling, no reservations. Huang Ji has never done those things except for dishes like braised whole pig head that require advance booking.”

“Membership remains the old system—automatic upgrade after cumulative spending of 80,000. No stored-value gimmicks.”

Cao nodded.

Qin Huai listened quietly from the side.

He couldn’t really join the discussion—he wasn’t a shareholder, just a collaborator.

“Xiao Qin, you’ll need to work harder during this period,” Huang Shengli said. “Temporarily put aside fire control practice and five-fruit filling. Adjust your schedule—no need to come so early in the morning; arrive around 9:30.”

“In exchange, evenings will be more demanding. If fruit pastries are dine-in only, they must be sold throughout the day—not just at noon.”

Qin Huai understood. His working hours would be adjusted to match everyone else’s.

“Is that okay?” Huang Shengli asked.

“Of course,” Qin Huai replied readily. “Special times call for special measures. Making fruit pastries is also practice. Since customers have come all this way, I can’t let them leave disappointed without tasting anything.”