AGN -Chapter 229 Thank You

Qin Huai sometimes felt that Zheng Siyuan had a rather… unique way of showing filial piety.

How should he put it—no one was letting Zheng Da off easy.

“That won’t be necessary,” Qin Huai decided to spare Zheng Da. “I’m just a bit bored, not tired.”

“When the rice cakes are ready tomorrow, I’m planning to make soup with them. Want to try some?” Qin Huai invited proactively.

Wrong glutinous rice + wrong technique + wrong heat = wrong rice cakes turned into rice cake soup.

They say two negatives make a positive. Qin Huai was very curious what four negatives would result in.

The rice cake on the cutting board was like a collection of mistakes—every possible flaw gathered in one place.

Zheng Siyuan refused on the spot. “No thanks, I don’t like rice cakes.”

But curiosity got the better of him. “Who are you making this rice cake soup for?”

“Qu Jing,” Qin Huai answered honestly.

He planned to call her later and ask her to take the afternoon off to come eat it.

If the hint was correct, she should awaken after drinking the soup. And once she woke up, she would probably share more of her story, and he could explain the “tea gathering” setup.

With Chen Huihong bringing Huihui to Suzhou soon, two awakened spirits could gather together—and even video call Luo Jun. A remote tea party. Perfect.

Qin Huai’s honesty shocked Zheng Siyuan.

He looked him up and down, unable to understand how Doctor Qu had offended Qin Huai without even visiting Huang Ji, to deserve such treatment. He wanted to say something, but ultimately stayed silent.

Zheng Siyuan concluded: Qin Huai was under too much stress.

He’d gone a bit… unhinged.

Since Qin Huai had plans with Qu Jing the next afternoon, he wouldn’t have time to practice heat control. When Huang Shengli returned from physical therapy, Qin Huai briefly explained and got approval for leave.

Huang Shengli even praised Qu Jing: “Doctor Qu is really kind. When we went to the hospital today, she waited at the entrance and personally guided us to the rehab department.”

“Yeah,” Huang Anyao added, “she hadn’t even eaten yet—she packed food from the cafeteria. Good thing she didn’t eat, or she wouldn’t have room for rice cake soup tomorrow!”

“Qin Huai, isn’t it troublesome to make her come all the way here? I could deliver it instead.”

“We actually have something to discuss tomorrow,” Qin Huai said vaguely.

“Oh.” Huang Anyao nodded and didn’t press further.

The next morning, Qin Huai arrived early to uncover the rice cakes.

As expected—they were terrible.

Even Huang Anyao could tell.

Qin Huai had only made a small batch. Rice cake soup expands in volume, and since it tasted bad, making her eat too much would be cruel.

He cut off a piece and made a small portion to taste first.

Qu Shan’s method was simple: slice the rice cake, add egg for egg drop, and throw in whatever vegetables were available.

Radish, cabbage, wild greens—whatever was on hand.

Qin Huai added everything: radish, cabbage, and even spinach in place of wild greens. Then he boiled it recklessly without adjusting heat, stirring constantly.

Soon, a pot of disastrously bad rice cake soup was done.

Even the chefs at Zhiwei Residence thought Qin Huai had lost his mind.

Zheng Siyuan quietly moved two steps away, afraid Qin Huai would offer him a bowl.

The soup was thick and sticky—exactly as Qin Huai intended.

[Rice Cake Soup – E+ Rank]

Sigh… some steps were accidentally done right.

At least it didn’t reach D rank.

Qin Huai picked up a spoon and took a big bite.

…

Well.

There goes his whole day.

The texture was awful. The taste wasn’t exactly bad—rice cakes themselves are bland, and radish and cabbage are normal soup ingredients—but the mushy, sticky texture made it feel like eating paste.

Like survival food.

Qin Huai grimaced.

Zheng Siyuan handed him a bowl of wontons. “Eat something decent.”

He’d seen people go crazy making pastries before—but this was something else.

Qin Huai thought: this afternoon would truly test his friendship with Qu Jing.

If your friend suddenly served you a bowl like this and said “just eat it, don’t ask why,” you’d need serious goodwill to take a bite.

After lunch service, Qin Huai waited for Qu Jing’s message.

She didn’t understand why he suddenly asked her to take time off to eat pastries—but she respected it and came anyway.

When she texted that she’d gotten off the subway, Qin Huai immediately started cooking. By the time she arrived, it wasn’t done yet, so a waiter led her to private room 555.

Qu Jing sat there, confused, and messaged Huang Anyao asking if Qin Huai was okay.

Huang Anyao, squatting in the kitchen and watching Qin Huai stir the bubbling pot like a witch brewing something, replied: “Seems like something’s off.”

Now Qu Jing was even more nervous.

Comforting upset friends wasn’t exactly her strength.

Ten minutes later, Qin Huai entered with a large bowl of rice cake soup and placed it in front of her.

“I know this seems weird, and it doesn’t look good—but just drink it. You’ll understand.”

Qu Jing nodded seriously. “Okay.”

She started eating.

The soup was hot. She blew on each spoonful before tasting.

Qin Huai watched eagerly.

She ate slowly—whether because it was hot or bad, he couldn’t tell.

Second spoon.

Her expression began to change.

Third spoon.

Fourth spoon.

She stopped.

Not frozen like Chen Huihong had been—but lost in thought.

Tears slowly gathered in her eyes, trembling but not falling.

After dozens of seconds, she moved again.

She looked at Qin Huai.

Her tears fell into the soup.

Her expression was complicated—shock, emotion, but mostly gratitude.

Her lips trembled.

“Thank you.”

“I almost… completely forgot my grandfather.”

Tears fell again.

Qin Huai tried to lighten the mood. “Good thing the door’s closed. Otherwise people would think my cooking made you cry.”

Qu Jing laughed softly and wiped her tears.

“I’m not the first to awaken, am I? You seem very experienced.”

Qin Huai nodded. “Chen Huihong was first. Luo Jun… is special. He hasn’t forgotten, but he doesn’t want to wake up—he’s just waiting to die. I’ll explain later.”

He briefly explained the system and how completing tasks allowed him to see spirits’ memories.

Qu Jing was stunned.

Even for spirits, a “system” was beyond comprehension.

“Can you tell me what happened after your first life?” Qin Huai asked.

“There’s not much,” she said calmly.

“I organized the food and money at home and threw them into the village chief’s yard overnight.”

“Then I went into the mountains, found the bear’s den… and pieces of my grandfather’s bloodstained clothing.”

“Then I killed myself.”

Seeing Qin Huai’s shocked expression, she smiled faintly.

“Spirits like Mr. Luo, who keep living after failing a tribulation, are rare.”

“Most are like me. Once we know we can’t let go… we end it and start a second life.”

“Because in the second life, at least we can forget some things.”

“Otherwise…”

“Living is too painful.”