AGN -Chapter 220 Don’t Say You Learned This From Me When You Go Out

Ou Yang stood at the kitchen entrance and finished a slightly cooled guo’er in big bites. He smacked his lips, clearly tempted to grab a second one—but restrained himself.

A slightly cooled guo’er just wasn’t good enough. It tasted best after being reheated in a steamer for a few minutes.

“By the way, has that Mr. Xu who wrote Zhiwei left yet?” Ou Yang asked curiously.

Normally, Ou Yang and Qin Huai would gossip every morning and evening at home. But yesterday had been… eventful.

In the morning, Qin Huai woke up late and made four-flavor tangyuan, so their conversation was about work, not gossip. At night, Ou Yang nearly earned himself a “stay behind bars” experience and only got released at 1 a.m.—no chance to chat.

And this morning? Ou Yang didn’t even wake up. He missed the tangyuan Qin Huai made—his portion had already been given to the neighbor.

Just thinking about everything that happened since yesterday made Ou Yang want to shed a couple of bitter tears.

“He’s gone,” Qin Huai said. “Left the night before Zhiwei was published. Said he had business in Hong Kong and rushed off overnight.”

Of course, for a wealthy tycoon like Xu Cheng, suddenly needing to handle business in Hong Kong made perfect sense.

But—

Qin Huai couldn’t shake the feeling that Xu Cheng just didn’t want to keep eating pastries and used it as an excuse to slip away.

Though Qin Huai hadn’t interacted with Xu Cheng much, he’d heard plenty from Huang Anyao—Xu Cheng’s devoted fan—who could recite every dish from every chef at Xu Cheng’s favorite restaurants.

From all that, Qin Huai had a clear understanding of Xu Cheng’s taste:

He only eats the best.

Using the game system’s rating:

B-grade: casually edible

A-grade: worth enjoying

S-grade: devour eagerly

Below B: basically tasteless

Qin Huai knew many pastries, but not all could consistently reach B-grade.

At first, Xu Cheng ate enthusiastically. But later on, Qin Huai could clearly tell—Xu Cheng didn’t want to eat anymore. He stopped showing up and sent assistants instead.

Still, he seemed determined to test how many kinds of pastries Qin Huai could make.

So he endured.

From Xu Cheng’s perspective, ignoring an A+ guo’er to eat mediocre pastries below B-grade was pure suffering.

So before Zhiwei was released, he fled.

If he didn’t, once readers flocked in and discovered he was in Suzhou but not eating guo’er—only random pastries—how would he explain that?

“Why’d you suddenly ask?” Qin Huai asked.

“This morning I ran into Mr. Gong,” Ou Yang said. “He was on the phone saying there were no private rooms left—next week’s bookings were all taken by Xu Cheng. I thought he hadn’t left yet.”

“Oh right, Sister Hong and Huihui are coming soon. I was thinking of borrowing a private room to treat them.”

“Forget the private room,” Qin Huai said bluntly. “I’ll ask Manager Cao to reserve you a small table in the main hall.”

“Private rooms are fully booked. VIP customers can book a week in advance, and everything’s gone.”

He added, “I heard even private rooms are being shared now. Some people are reselling seats—500 to 1000 per spot. There are even scalpers trying to profit.”

Ou Yang was stunned. He subconsciously grabbed another guo’er from the box—then realized what he was doing and quietly put it back.

Seeing his restless look, Qin Huai knew—if Ou Yang didn’t eat something, he wouldn’t be able to focus.

So he turned and went into the kitchen.

“Any pastries left?” he asked a chef.

Three minutes later, Ou Yang was happily eating a liu sha bao (custard bun).

They moved from the kitchen entrance to a small table in the corner. Yu Yang even brought them a pot of fresh tea and reported that the rice cake mixing had progressed to the steaming stage.

Qin Huai: ?

Why was Gu Li mixing the rice cake? Wasn’t that Tan Weian’s job?

Meanwhile, Ou Yang took a bite of the bun and froze in amazement.

“My god, this bun!”

Qin Huai: ?

“The texture is incredible!” Ou Yang said seriously. “I’ve never had such chewy dough before!”

To prove his point, he took another big bite. “Really! This texture—it’s amazing!”

Qin Huai grew curious. Yu Yang’s buns were pretty average—nothing special. And the dough should be soft, not chewy.

He picked one up, looked closely… then looked at Ou Yang’s half-eaten bun.

“…You didn’t remove the paper,” Qin Huai said flatly.

“There’s parchment stuck to the bottom. It’s been sitting for a while, so it adhered to the dough. The ‘chewy texture’ you’re praising… is paper.”

Ou Yang: ?

He looked closely. Enlightenment dawned.

“So THAT’S why convenience store buns have paper underneath!”

Qin Huai: …

No. That’s NOT the point.

He stared at Ou Yang.

“…Now I understand how you managed to lose 6.6 million running a fish hotpot restaurant.”

“Listen—when you open your lemon tea shop, don’t tweak the recipe. Just use the one from the cafeteria.”

“How did you know I’ve been experimenting with new recipes?” Ou Yang said, shocked. “I think lemon tea alone is too plain. I’ve been trying things—cheese foam, sour plum, coconut milk, cola, Sprite, AD calcium milk…”

Qin Huai: …

He looked at Ou Yang with deep sincerity.

“When your shop opens… don’t tell anyone you learned from me.”

“Say you studied under someone else.”

Please.

Ou Yang nodded confidently. “I get it. If I say you taught me, people will think I’m riding your coattails.”

“Entrepreneurship should rely on oneself!”

Qin Huai felt relieved—and decided to give him two extra guo’er tomorrow.

…

After chatting for another 20 minutes (during which Ou Yang devoured multiple rounds of pastries), Qin Huai returned to the kitchen to check on the rice cakes.

Gu Li was still mixing.

Making rice cakes by hand required repeated steaming and mixing—simple in theory, exhausting in practice.

Looking at the result, Qin Huai sighed slightly.

Gu Li was… peculiar.

His fundamentals weren’t bad, but everything he did was just a little off—as if lacking that final bit of intuition.

No wonder he was known as a “mediocre talent” in the chef world.

“Chef Qin… did I mess something up?” Gu Li asked nervously.

“The heat was too high while steaming,” Qin Huai said. “You followed the timing, but not the heat control.”

“That’s why the dough feels too firm and not sticky enough.”

Gu Li nodded.

“Yeah… it failed,” Qin Huai concluded. “You don’t have much experience with rice cakes, do you?”

Gu Li shook his head.

“Where’s Tan Weian?”

“He went to the storage room for glutinous rice… and tore his pants. Went to change.”

Qin Huai: …

“…Alright.”

“There’s still time. I’ll make another batch and show you.”

“Watch carefully—you’ll understand better with a comparison.”

He glanced at the workload and even briefly considered calling Ou Yang back.

After all, for tasks like pounding rice cakes or making hand-beaten lemon tea—

Ou Yang was surprisingly gifted.

Everyone who tried it agreed.