AGN -Chapter 217 Wang Gensheng’s Desire

Huang Shengli led Qin Huai into the storage room. Passing through rows of shelves, they arrived at a corner.

There was a small window there.

The view was excellent—through it, they could see most of the dining hall of Huang Ji. The window was open for ventilation, and Qin Huai could clearly see that almost every table in the hall was already full.

Even the large round tables were packed, with extra chairs squeezed in wherever possible.

Most of the waitstaff had gathered around those big tables, each holding several menus. Ordering had reverted to the most primitive method—manual note-taking, writing down dishes one by one as customers called them out.

Coincidentally, the round table closest to the window was occupied by people Qin Huai recognized—the college students with suitcases who had been first in line.

Huang Ji didn’t have small round tables—only 4-person, 6-person, and standard 12-person large round tables. The students had been seated together with another group of four tourists. One side was lively and chatty, the other quiet and reserved—a clear contrast between students and travelers.

“Bingbing, you’re so smart! Ordering the Guo’er first—we’ll definitely be the first to get served. First in line, first dish, eating at the top-ranked restaurant… my post later is going to explode with likes! Totally worth taking a hard-seat train from Beijing and lining up at 4 a.m.!”

The girl called Bingbing grinned. “I saw this place online before—it’s really popular. They say the San Ding buns and fermented rice buns are amazing. Good thing we came early!”

“But is this Guo’er really as tasty as the magazine says?” she added, holding up Zhiwei. “It looks… kind of ugly. If I turned in something like this for my art assignment, my teacher would destroy me.”

“It’s definitely good,” a boy next to her said. “Look at the menu—Guo’er is 98 each, fermented rice buns are 18, San Ding buns are 35. The most expensive one is limited and dine-in only—it has to be worth it!”

“But online it says San Ding buns are 56. Why are they cheaper today? Did we come to the wrong place?” a short-haired girl asked nervously.

“The 56 one is the premium version,” Bingbing explained. “Today they’re selling the regular version—less expensive ingredients, easier to make. They’re too busy to do the premium ones.”

The short-haired girl looked disappointed. “Ah… I wanted the premium ones. We came all the way from Beijing just for that.”

“It’s fine,” another girl comforted her. “Just say you ate the premium ones when you post online.”

From the window, Qin Huai and Huang Shengli could hear everything clearly. Huang Shengli chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got loyal fans already—someone traveled all the way for your San Ding buns.”

But Qin Huai wasn’t focused on that.

He noticed that not just the students—almost every table had copies of Zhiwei.

He knew the magazine was influential, and many customers had come because of it—but bringing the magazine along to eat?

Did it somehow make the food taste better?

Or did readers use it to compare dishes—ready to smack chefs with it if the food didn’t match the description?

“Is the nearby newsstand promoting Zhiwei?” Qin Huai asked.

Huang Shengli paused, then smiled meaningfully. “Well… your Master Zheng bought 300 extra copies last night.”

Qin Huai: ?

“He set up a magazine rack at the front entrance this morning. Customers can grab a copy while waiting.”

Qin Huai: …

He truly couldn’t understand how rich people thought.

Just then, the dishes began arriving.

The first batch of Guo’er had already been prepared.

Because of how the pastry worked, it didn’t need to be freshly steamed at the last moment. It was already cooked before coloring, and once colored, it could stay warm in a holding box for up to two hours without much change in taste.

So as soon as orders were placed, plating and serving could begin immediately.

Some tables hadn’t even finished ordering when the first batch of Guo’er was brought out.

As the star dish of the day, the moment the waiters carried it out, every eye in the dining hall turned toward it.

Ugly. Extremely ugly. Just like the magazine described.

That was everyone’s first impression.

Normally, people value appearance in food—color, aroma, and taste.

Clearly, Guo’er was not normal.

But strangely, when customers saw it, their first reaction was relief.

Perfect—just like the magazine said!
Authentic!
Ugly in a unique, soulful way!

The first batch had been mostly colored by Qin Huai himself, making them the purest form of “ugly Guo’er.”

Eight pieces were served to the students’ table.

Everyone was stunned.

Especially the art students.

One boy even closed his eyes in pain, afraid the color scheme would haunt him and ruin his finals.

Finally, Bingbing took the lead. She grabbed one with both hands, closed her eyes, and took a huge bite.

Too big a bite.

That was Qin Huai’s immediate judgment.

Guo’er had thin skin but was packed with juicy filling. With proper cooking, the meat juices burst in the mouth—not explosively like in exaggerated ads, but enough to create a delightful sensation.

But only if you didn’t take too big a bite.

Sure enough—

The next second, Bingbing froze, her expression changing. She tried to cover her mouth but instinctively shoved the rest of the pastry in to contain the juices. After struggling for a full minute, she finally swallowed.

“Damn,” she gasped, immediately going for another bite.

The others instantly understood—this ugly pastry was no joke.

They all started eating.

At the shared table, the four tourists who hadn’t received their dishes yet could only watch, sniffing the aroma, craning their necks toward the kitchen window, practically drooling with envy.

Nearby, at another table, Qian Zhongheng’s son couldn’t help but swallow audibly.

He had eaten apple-shaped pastries before.

At the time, he thought they were interesting—but not necessarily the best. For him, the ultimate dish had always been the premium San Ding bun.

He loved meat.

But today…

The aroma of Guo’er from the next table was irresistible.

“Can you have some dignity?” Qian Zhongheng snapped.

“Pour tea for your Uncle Wang.”

His son obediently did so.

Old Master Wang smiled, though he also struggled not to look at the neighboring table.

Strange… he had eaten Qin Huai’s pastries before, but they had never smelled this good.

Was it because he missed them?

Or because being in Huang Ji added a “buff”?

He sighed, about to reminisce about the past—

But Qian Zhongheng beat him to it.

They began recalling old days at the state-run restaurant, talking about dishes like fried fish, stir-fried shredded vegetables, and braised pork with quail eggs.

Then came memories of a master chef who once gave him crab-shell pastries…

Regret surfaced.

If only he had stayed longer back then—he might have tasted the legendary double-crab buns.

Just then, their Guo’er arrived.

Seven people, even the granddaughter sitting on her father’s lap, each got one.

Old Master Wang took a bite—

Tears nearly fell.

He missed the days when Qin Huai cooked at Yunzhong Cafeteria. Back then, competition wasn’t so fierce.

Another bite—

He regretted not holding out longer in the past.

Then suddenly—

“Ding. Congratulations, you have unlocked a new side quest: [Wang Gensheng’s Desire]. Please check the task panel.”

Qin Huai, who had been watching from the window and enjoying the satisfied expressions of countless diners, froze.

A new quest?

Wang Gensheng’s Desire???

Isn’t Wang Gensheng… Old Master Wang?

Wait—what?

Don’t tell me…

Old Master Wang isn’t human either?!

Does Yunzhong Community even have normal people left?!

What do you mean he doesn’t even live there—he’s from another community?

Doesn’t matter.

He’s in the group chat.