AGN -Chapter 247 A Not-So-Wonderful Vacation

As soon as Qin Luo got home, she switched into full-on eating mode.

Considering that she had already eaten two in-flight meals on the plane—which definitely counted as a proper meal—Qin Huai figured it would be better to let his little sister snack on some treats and pastries rather than make her instant noodles.

As for why there were instant noodles in Qin Huai’s house…

Ou Yang had bought them earlier. Pickled mustard beef, braised beef, tomato and egg, Sichuan pepper beef, tonkotsu ramen, old hen soup, sour beef soup, Shin Ramyun, spicy fire noodles—you name it. The selection was more complete than what many neighborhood convenience stores carried.

Ou Yang loved eating instant noodles while staying up late on his phone.

Meanwhile, Qin Huai went into the kitchen to cook some tangyuan.

The tangyuan had been stuffed into his hands by Zheng Da and Zheng Siyuan—glutinous rice balls filled with mixed nuts, including peanut-and-melon-seed filling and almond-and-walnut filling.

Originally, Zheng Siyuan had packed some for Gong Baozhu and casually added a bag for Qin Huai, telling him to cook them for Qin Luo. When Zheng Da saw this, he decided the peanut-and-melon-seed version couldn’t lose out, so he immediately packed Qin Huai another bag—while conveniently clearing out the fridge at the same time.

Qin Huai had accepted them without thinking. It wasn’t until he was driving home that he realized the father and son had probably done it on purpose—they simply wanted to empty their refrigerator.

After all, Zheng Da didn’t have nearly as many eager taste-testers as Qin Huai did. The tangyuan he and Zheng Siyuan practiced making every day could only be consumed by the family, to the point that Zheng Siqin and Zheng Siyuan’s mother were starting to develop something close to tangyuan PTSD.

Now that someone had willingly volunteered to help finish them off, how could the two of them not seize the opportunity to unload all their stock?

Gong Baozhu, on the other hand, was delighted. She thought Zheng Da and Zheng Siyuan were incredibly kind. She had only mentioned once that she liked tangyuan, and they had packed her two enormous bags.

With the tangyuan boiling in the pot and fresh meat mooncakes reheating in the oven, Qin Huai kept one eye on the stove while leaning out of the kitchen to remind Qin Luo not to go overboard.

Even though Qin Luo had an iron stomach, eating too much of too many different things could still land her with acute gastroenteritis. It had happened before.

Qin Luo was already happily settled on the sofa watching TV.

On the coffee table sat a platter of flaky pastries, a fruit plate, and a tray of spicy snacks. There was an opened bag of cheese sticks, three different flavors of potato chips, a bag of onion rings, rice crackers, buttered popcorn, two chocolate bars, a packet of beef jerky, a packet of pork jerky, and a pile of assorted cookies.

Qin Luo was sampling everything equally—spicy strips in her left hand, a pastry in her right. She had peeled an orange without using a knife, tearing off the skin entirely with her teeth, a feat that spoke volumes about her capabilities.

Half the bag of cheese sticks had already vanished. All the chip and onion ring bags were open. One chocolate bar was untouched, while the other had only half left.

Anyone who didn’t know she had eaten two boxed meals on the plane would have assumed she hadn’t eaten in two days.

Happily, Qin Luo twisted open a bottle of sugar-free cola.

“Don’t eat too many snacks this late,” Qin Huai called out. “And don’t open anything else. Clip up the puffed snacks later. You’ve still got tangyuan and fresh meat mooncakes to eat.”

Qin Luo had no idea what tangyuan was. She jumped off the sofa and trotted to the kitchen doorway.

“Bro, what’s tangyuan? Is it good? Sweet or savory? Does it have meat?”

“It’s the deluxe version of tangyuan,” Qin Huai replied succinctly. “I only cooked two for you. Mixed-nut filling. Sweet.”

“No meat?” Qin Luo looked disappointed.

“I’ll make meat-filled ones for you tomorrow. Go check how much longer the mooncake needs. I only heated one for you.”

Qin Luo happily went to inspect the oven.

Two minutes later, Qin Huai served her the tangyuan while she sat at the dining table taking big bites out of her fresh meat mooncake.

Looking at the tangyuan—which were clearly supersized compared to ordinary glutinous rice balls—Qin Luo was fascinated. She set down her half-eaten mooncake, scooped one up with a spoon, and took a bite.

This time, Qin Huai hadn’t followed the usual “three-minutes-fifty-seconds cooling rule.” He had only let them sit for a little over a minute. Clearly, the rule didn’t apply to Qin Luo. Instead of hopping around from the heat, she simply chewed away happily.

Qin Luo actually loved glutinous rice foods. She was the one who claimed glutinous rice had a unique, delicate fragrance.

Although Qin Huai had said the tangyuan were mixed-nut filled, Qin Luo was certain that since he’d cooked two for her, they had to be different flavors.

The first one she bit into was peanut-and-melon-seed filling. After one bite, she dropped it back into the bowl, letting the filling ooze out into the soup, transforming it into a nutty sweet broth. Then she scooped up the second one and took a bite.

Chew, chew, chew.

“Bro, this one’s delicious!” Qin Luo exclaimed in delight. “Really delicious! It’s almond!”

“Can I have this for breakfast tomorrow morning? I want six—no, eight of them!”

For a moment, Qin Huai was grateful that Qin Luo wasn’t saying this outside Huang Ji’s kitchen.

If Zheng Siyuan had heard her, he would probably have declared her the person who best understood mixed-nut filling in the entire world and supplied her with unlimited pastries and fresh meat mooncakes.

Qin Huai watched until Qin Luo finished her tangyuan and pastries, then made sure she packed away all the snacks. He reminded her to go to bed early and warned her not to mess with the smart home devices—especially not to keep turning the lights on and off.

Otherwise, he might just lock her in the room for the night.

As Qin Huai headed to his room, Qin Luo’s inner self cheered:

Great! Mom and Dad aren’t home, and my brother goes to bed early. No one’s going to monitor how late I stay up playing on my phone!

Then she took her unfinished cola into her room and started browsing on her phone.

At 1:30 a.m., Ou Yang sent her a message.

Ou Yang: Luo Luo, I’m busy. Help me out with a raffle—just need another participant.

Luo Luo: Brother Ou Yang, where’s the link?

Ou Yang: Knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Your brother asked me to check whether you were staying up late playing on your phone. If I catch you once, you lose one meat dish at lunch tomorrow.

Qin Luo: (=°Д°=)

Terrified, Qin Luo immediately put down her phone and went straight to sleep.

Because he had taken a nap during the day, Qin Huai still woke up at his usual time the next morning despite going to bed late.

When he got up, Qin Luo was still asleep. After seeing the screenshot Ou Yang had sent him the night before, Qin Huai knew his sister had once again gotten a firsthand lesson in the dangers of human nature. Quite satisfied, he sent Ou Yang a “well done” sticker.

After a quick wash, Qin Huai headed straight to Huang Ji. On the way, he messaged Chen Huihong, reminding her not to forget to bring Huihui to Huang Ji for breakfast at nine.

He specifically emphasized that she only needed to stop by his house to check. If Qin Luo was still asleep, there was no need to wake her; they could let her sleep and call her after breakfast.

Based on Qin Huai’s understanding of his sister, as long as she knew that sleeping past nine meant missing breakfast, she’d make it to Huang Ji before nine even if knives were raining from the sky.

The old method of repeatedly knocking on a child’s door and urging them to get up was outdated. Teaching them to value breakfast was far more effective.

Back when the Qin family still ran a breakfast shop, Qin Luo’s wake-up time depended entirely on what Qin Huai was making the next day. If it was ordinary buns, she’d get up around seven. But if he was making Four Happiness Dumplings, she’d wake up even earlier than Qin Huai, appearing at the shop at five sharp to help her parents.

That morning, Huang Ji’s breakfast lineup was the usual one: Zheng Siyuan’s gauze wontons and bubble wontons, Qin Huai’s longevity noodles, and pastries prepared by the six chefs from Zhiweiju.

Everyone at Huang Ji had long since grown accustomed to this breakfast arrangement. Each morning, walking into the kitchen and smelling the familiar aromas was enough to know that a wonderful day had begun.

Especially after having had the entire previous day off, everyone was refreshed and full of energy, making the wonderful day feel even more wonderful.

At 9:10, Chen Huihong arrived at Huang Ji with Huihui.

When Qin Huai saw that Qin Luo still hadn’t woken up, he immediately snapped a photo of the breakfast spread and sent it to her.

It was Chen Huihong’s first time squatting outside Huang Ji’s kitchen for breakfast, and she was utterly stunned by how lavish the staff meal was.

Two kinds of wontons, delicious hand-pulled noodles, Ruyi rolls, soup-filled xiaolongbao, Four Happiness tangyuan, fresh meat siu mai, char siu buns, white sugar sponge cake, and plum blossom sponge cake.

Although quite a few of these pastries were really just there to pad out the spread—and aside from Tan Wei’an’s Four Happiness tangyuan, most were fairly ordinary breakfast fare—the sheer variety was dazzling enough to impress anyone.

After seeing this magnificent array of dim sum, Chen Huihong finally understood why Gong Liang loved bragging about being able to squat outside Huang Ji’s kitchen for breakfast.

It really was something worth bragging about.

The prestige of eating breakfast outside Huang Ji’s kitchen was genuinely enormous.

Chen Huihong and Chen Huihui were dazzled by the lavish breakfast spread. Without a moment’s hesitation, Chen Huihong immediately put on her earbuds and started a group video call in the family chat, “A Loving Family.”

Only Luo Jun answered.

Luo Jun had been keeping a very regular schedule lately. Even if there wasn’t anything at Yunzhong Cafeteria that he particularly wanted for breakfast, he still made sure to eat around nine every morning.

He had assumed Chen Huihong was calling so early because something important had happened. But the moment the video connected, what filled his screen was an array of breakfast dishes. Among them were several items that looked painfully familiar—Qin Huai’s longevity noodles and Zheng Siyuan’s wontons, the very dishes he had been craving but couldn’t get.

Before Chen Huihong could even say a word, Luo Jun fired off immediately.

“Chen Huihong, are you sick in the head?”

Usually she showed off lunch, dinner, or late-night snacks. Now she was flaunting breakfast too. Was she trying to drive people to despair?

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Zheng Siyuan had finished cleaning his workstation and had moved on to his usual tasks while chatting with Qin Huai.

“Did Luo Luo like the tangyuan?” Zheng Siyuan asked.

“She did. She really loved them—especially the almond-filled ones,” Qin Huai replied honestly. “But knowing Luo Luo, she’d probably like the meat-filled ones even more.”

Zheng Siyuan nodded in understanding. That was Qin Luo for you—savory, meat-filled pastries would always be her first choice.

“Is she coming over for dinner tonight? If she is, I’ll make some meat-filled tangyuan for her this afternoon.”

“Probably,” Qin Huai said. “Starting today, I’m not just going to make the mixed-nut filling. I’ll practice the other fillings too. If I only work on one kind, I’m worried I’ll get rusty with the others.”

Gong Liang’s task had already been completed, but Qin Huai had no intention of doing what he had done before—finishing one task pastry and then immediately moving on to the next.

Ordinarily, he would have started practicing Double Crab Buns right away. After all, Old Master Wang had already gotten him the recipe; not using it would almost feel like wasting his effort.

But Qin Huai chose not to.

Because just from reading the recipe, he could tell that Double Crab Buns were exceptionally difficult.

Making them during crab season, when fresh crab roe was abundant and at its best, might lower the difficulty somewhat. But making them with preserved crab roe paste while still trying to achieve a flavor no less impressive than fresh crab roe? That would be incredibly challenging.

Double Crab Buns used crab roe and sea cucumber as the filling. In overall concept, they were somewhat similar to crab roe siu mai: both aimed to preserve the ingredients’ natural flavors while minimizing additional seasonings, all while removing any fishiness and enhancing freshness.

In other words, they were both pastries with maximum filling-seasoning difficulty.

Just looking at the ingredients—combining crab roe and sea cucumber while eliminating fishiness and boosting flavor—made it obvious how technically demanding the dish was.

After all, even Zheng Siyuan described sea cucumber as “a tasteless ingredient, sandy and fishy.”

Qin Huai was self-aware. Before mastering crab roe siu mai, he had known very little about crabs and had spent a great deal of time simply becoming familiar with the ingredient.

The same was true for sea cucumber. He hadn’t worked with it much before. The only pastry where he had used it with any frequency was Five-Diced Buns, and even there, sea cucumber had only played a supporting role, mainly for its nourishing qualities.

With limited familiarity with the ingredients and such a high level of seasoning difficulty, Qin Huai felt that, at his current skill level, even intense practice might not be enough for him to successfully make Double Crab Buns.

He suspected he would need to raise his seasoning skill to master level before he could seriously begin learning them.

Wang Gensheng was doing well, so that side quest wasn’t urgent. But another side quest was quickly becoming pressing:

Chen Gong’s side quest.

Its objective was to help Han Guishan shine at his son Han Youxin’s birthday banquet.

To put it simply, Qin Huai needed to put on an impressive culinary performance at the party—creating pastries so stunning that they would leave the guests thoroughly amazed and allow Han Guishan to bask in the glory.

Han Guishan was an ideal client.

He offered a generous budget, paid promptly, and never micromanaged.

Originally, Han Guishan had planned to come to Suzhou personally to sample Qin Huai’s cooking before finalizing the birthday banquet menu. But with the Lunar New Year approaching, work had become overwhelming. As a self-made CEO, Han Guishan couldn’t afford to behave like the fictional billionaire CEOs who spent all day romancing and ignored business entirely. He simply couldn’t find the time to travel.

Qin Huai, meanwhile, didn’t have time to visit Han Guishan’s city either.

The matter had initially stalled—until Xu Cheng stepped in.

Since Xu Cheng was Han Guishan’s friend, and Han Guishan couldn’t make the trip, Xu Cheng had essentially done the tasting on his behalf.

Xu Cheng had originally intended to simply gauge Qin Huai’s abilities. Instead, he had nearly gotten himself stranded in Suzhou. With Xu Cheng’s enthusiastic endorsement, along with the publicity boost from Zhiwei magazine’s New Year issue, Han Guishan directly paid Qin Huai 60% upfront without even sampling the pastries.

His instructions were simple: make whatever you do best.

It was fine if Qin Huai couldn’t make Guo’er. Han Guishan understood why, and he also knew there was little chance Qin Huai could persuade Huang Shengli to come.

Faced with such a generous, understanding client, Qin Huai was deeply moved.

He decided to give it twice his full effort.

Ordinarily, he would already have been giving it his all to complete the side quest. But now, for the sake of such an excellent client, he intended to give it his all all over again—hence, double effort.

Since it was a birthday banquet, the pastries needed to carry auspicious symbolism.

Four Happiness Tangyuan would be perfect. The name was wonderful, the symbolism auspicious, and once the meaning behind the mixed-nut filling was explained, the dish’s lucky connotations would be off the charts.

He could practically guarantee that among all the dishes on the banquet table, none would rival Four Happiness Tangyuan in symbolic significance.

And once Qin Huai reviewed Gong Liang’s memories, studied the recipe thoroughly, and added a few buffs…

He could hardly imagine just how spectacular this pastry would be at the birthday banquet.

It would absolutely make Han Guishan the center of attention.

As Qin Huai kneaded dough, he mentally planned out his practice schedule for Four Happiness Tangyuan—how often to make them each day and how much time to devote. Glancing up at the wall clock, he realized it was already ten o’clock.

Thinking about how he and Qin Luo were both hard at work at the same time—he at his job, and she at her studies—filled him with warmth and gave him even more energy.

Qin Huai felt warm inside.

Qin Luo, on the other hand, felt her heart turn cold.

Originally, eating the tangyuan she had cooked herself that morning had been perfectly fine. She could eat as many as she wanted, and they were delicious too.

They would have tasted even better if Qin Huai hadn’t sent her that photo.

She hadn’t even finished regretting staying up late on her phone and consequently missing the lavish breakfast when her first tutor arrived.

Neat chin-length short hair. Sharp silver metal-framed glasses. A slightly thin, angular face. Fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Thin lips that seemed perpetually pressed together. And, most intimidating of all, the piercing gaze characteristic of a school dean.

The moment Qin Luo saw her, she sat up perfectly straight, scarcely daring to breathe.

“You’re Qin Luo, correct? My surname is Chen. You may call me Teacher Chen. Starting today, I will tutor you in mathematics every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday from 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.”

“I’ve already reviewed your school’s textbooks, as well as your monthly and midterm exam papers from this semester. Your results haven’t been ideal, but don’t be discouraged. I’m confident that with hard work and guidance during this winter break, your math will improve significantly.”

“This is a test paper I prepared especially for you. Today, we’ll begin by completing it.”

“It’s now 10:02. You have one hour. Begin.”

Inside Qin Luo’s mind, a tiny version of herself was crying hysterically.

This vacation…was not wonderful at all.

Waaaaah.