AGN -Chapter 236 Little Master Qin Has Me in His Heart!

Whether Dong Shi had managed to get any news about Xiao Xu from Huang Shengli and Zheng Da, Qin Huai didn’t know. In any case, the two-day deadline had passed, and Dong Shi still hadn’t sent any updates.

Qin Huai didn’t ask either—he was happily making Si Xi Tangtuan.

While making them, he suddenly understood why back when Gong Liang celebrated his birthday, Master Jing had simply boiled a pot of unshaped Si Xi Tangtuan.

Because opening mystery boxes was truly fun.

Especially when a group of people gathered to eat tangtuan together—the joy of watching everyone “open their boxes” was doubled.

During the day, Qin Huai went to work. After making enough Guo’er pastries, he started making Si Xi Tangtuan, first letting the people in the Huang Ji kitchen enjoy a round of mystery box fun.

In the afternoon, he trained fire control techniques with Huang Shengli. At night, he continued working, and after getting off work and going home, he would boil another batch of Si Xi Tangtuan for the regular customers of Yunzhong Canteen.

Basically, every night at 8 p.m., Qin Huai’s living room would be packed with uncles and aunties waiting for the tangtuan “blind box experience.” If there wasn’t enough space in his house, they would move next door to Gong Liang’s place—since Gong Liang and his wife were basically always stationed at Qin Huai’s home anyway.

Qin Huai’s already well-equipped kitchen received another upgrade: a newly purchased large pot, specially for boiling tangtuan.

Round little tangyuan rolled and tumbled in the boiling pot while Qin Huai mentally timed everything precisely. After cooking so many batches, he had gained some experience.

Perfect tangtuan in terms of color, translucency, texture, and elasticity was still beyond his current ability—but reaching a decent standard, slightly above average, and far surpassing Qin Yuan’s level by several streets? That was no problem.

The steaming tangtuan was ready.

Ou Yang eagerly handed over bowls, stacking them high. Qin Huai quickly served them—four per bowl, with a ladle of soup and a spoon.

Perfect late-night snack.

The only downside was that glutinous rice food was very filling—eating too much at night could make it hard to sleep.

Of course, none of his diners had that problem.

They were all experienced. They knew moderation, and understood that health came first. If they overate and got sick, and scared off Little Master Qin, there would be no more tangtuan at night.

One full meal versus endless meals—they knew the difference.

After serving everything, Qin Huai didn’t rush out with the bowls. Instead, he casually opened his game panel to check his fire-control experience and other skill progress.

His skill panel now looked like this:

Player Name: Qin Huai

Unlocked Recipes: 7/12

Skills:

Fermentation (Advanced): Your fermentation skill beats 96% of pastry chefs nationwide. (20127/100000)

Filling Preparation (Advanced): Your filling skill beats 97% of pastry chefs nationwide. (57932/100000)

Hand Technique (Beginner): You completely refuse to style pastries. (999/1000)

Frying (Intermediate): Your fried dough sticks are decent. (872/10000)

Knife Work (Beginner): Home-cooking level. (179/1000)

Fire Control (Intermediate): Still needs improvement. (6277/10000)

Food Tasting (Advanced): Well, you’re pretty good at eating. (Cannot level up)

Business (Intermediate): Decent at running things; won’t lose money. (1999/10000)

Lies (Master): “You’re the type who speaks human language to humans and ghost language to ghosts.” (359317/1000000)

Evaluation: A somewhat well-known pastry chef.

Ah—his hand technique was just a little short of leveling up.

Qin Huai felt a bit regretful that he hadn’t made a couple more Guo’er pastries tonight. Now that he saw it, he wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he got that last bit of experience.

Thinking about skill proficiency, he found it quite fascinating.

Some skills grew effortlessly, while others were painfully stagnant.

Fermentation and seasoning were leveling up rapidly just through daily work. Fire control, however, was much harder to improve.

From an outsider’s perspective, Qin Huai looked like a “playboy pastry chef,” constantly shifting interests, learning new things and abandoning old ones.

But he couldn’t entirely be blamed—there were simply too many side tasks.

The Si Xi Tangtuan challenge wasn’t even finished, and a new recipe for double-crab buns had already arrived.

He couldn’t keep up at all.

Fire control was especially hard to train. Knife work was even worse—but ironically, he didn’t urgently need either right now.

For pastry chefs, fire control wasn’t always critical. As long as the fundamentals were strong, other people could help cover weaknesses.

If fire control was lacking, hire someone who’s good at it.

If hand technique was lacking, assign someone skilled to shaping.

Knife work? Not important at all.

Huang Shengli actually admired Qin Huai for this—despite already reaching master-level status in the kitchen, he still trained like an apprentice, humbly practicing every day.

If Qin Huai knew what he was thinking, he would probably say: “Master Huang, stop admiring me—help me figure out how to grind fire control experience.”

Grinding fire control was too hard.

Hand technique, ironically, was the slowest-growing skill right now. It should have leveled up quickly from making Guo’er pastries, but reality didn’t match expectations.

Its mechanics were as confusing as a mysterious side quest—completely unintelligible.

Still, Qin Huai didn’t overthink it. If it didn’t grow, so be it.

Anyway, he didn’t urgently need it.

But he really did need fire control.

Many dishes were just waiting for it.

Long-life noodles, Guo’er pastries, and even San Ding buns (half a dish). High-level recipes demanded all-around mastery.

You could have weaknesses—but only if other strengths compensated.

For A-grade Guo’er pastries, he could rely on collaboration with Huang Shengli. But for S-grade dishes?

That was another story.

For now, he was already relying on luck and synergy to push A+ results. But not every dish could be handled that way.

Strength had to be real.

As his thoughts drifted, Qin Huai’s gaze became increasingly blank.

He was practically “zoning out” in full display.

Ou Yang was also absent-minded, staring at his phone clock.

After so many nights of eating tangtuan, he had figured out the perfect timing.

3 minutes and 50 seconds after boiling!

If you blow on it, you could shorten it slightly depending on lung capacity.

3:48…

3:49…

3:50!

Time’s up!

Action!

Ou Yang moved like lightning, grabbing a bowl in an instant. He scooped up a plump tangtuan and shoved it into his mouth.

One bite.

Too hot to handle.

Half-bite instead.

Congratulations—he hit the jackpot: mixed fillings!

Ou Yang’s “pain mask” activated.

He silently screamed inside, drank a couple sips of tasteless soup, then swallowed with resignation.

Second bite.

Another jackpot.

Still mixed filling!

Ou Yang almost cried.

“Qin Huai, how many mixed-filling ones did you even make today?! I didn’t see many in the kitchen!” he asked in despair.

“Not many—only eight,” Qin Huai replied casually. “You getting one out of 21 bowls? You should buy a lottery ticket.”

Ou Yang: “……”

I’m done. Just destroy me.

Qin Huai opened the kitchen door and announced to the waiting crowd: “The tangtuan are ready. You can eat now.”

The uncles and aunties rushed in happily.

Seeing Ou Yang’s half-eaten mixed-filling tangtuan, they all laughed and teased him warmly.

Everyone treated it as normal.

Even though the “Little Master Qin filter” existed, it didn’t make terrible fillings taste good.

For Yunzhong Canteen regulars, this was familiar.

Bad ones were free. Good ones cost a little—or sometimes not at all.

Tonight, it was a blind box: three flavors were good, one was “special.”

The crowd laughed and chatted as they ate, filling the room with warmth.

Meanwhile, Gong Liang felt complicated.

At first, he thought he was special.

He thought he alone got “special treatment” from Little Master Qin.

But now…

Looking at the crowded room…

This was just his hobby.

He just liked cooking for everyone.

And then—his phone rang.

A WeChat message:

Qin Huai (Birthday 6.1): “Mr. Gong, are you free later? I want to make you a couple of qianhua palace lantern buns. If you’re not sleeping too early, I’ll call you over to try them.”

Qin Huai (Birthday 6.1): “It’s my first time making them. If they’re not good, please don’t mind.”

Gong Liang instantly felt warmth in his heart.

His back straightened.

Little Master Qin has me in his heart!

Even if he likes doing small private meals, I’m still in his heart!

I, Gong Liang, must be in the first tier!