AGN -Chapter 255 If You’re Bad at It, Practice More

Whether the fresh pork-filled tangyuan had finally improved, no one could say for sure. But one thing was certain—the elderly taste-testers had definitely perked up.

Back when the tasting sessions first started, they were honestly a bit of a hardship.

Qin Huai’s mixed-nut filling tangyuan had been wildly inconsistent. At first, they were simply awful. Later, they became a strange fifty-fifty gamble—half delicious, half terrible. Just when everyone thought Chef Xiao Qin’s mixed-nut tangyuan had finally gotten on track, Qin Huai would promptly prove that they had been far too optimistic.

Still, at that time, the tangyuan were like blind boxes. There was only a certain chance of getting a mixed-nut one, so eating them came with the fun of surprise. That made the experience much more bearable.

Then, just as Qin Huai’s tangyuan-making skills were clearly improving and victory seemed within sight… he stopped making them.

The tasting sessions were suspended. Chef Xiao Qin had gone on strike.

During those days, the elderly folks were utterly lost. They had bought houses here, but the pastries were gone.

Huang Ji’s business remained booming as ever. Anyone wanting pastries had to line up at six in the morning, and dining in was practically a fantasy. With the New Year approaching, their children were also asking when their “vacation” would end and when they planned to return to Shanshi. Those days without pastries made the old folks feel ten years younger—

As in, they felt like they were having a full-blown midlife crisis.

Fortunately, their confusion was only temporary. Soon, the dawn of hope arrived.

Chef Xiao Qin resumed the tasting sessions! Not only were the tangyuan better than before, but they were also unlimited. After finishing one serving, you could even get another. Best of all, there was no need to painstakingly memorize lines every day, because Chef Xiao Qin had switched to questionnaires.

Now all they had to do was answer honestly, and they could eat as many tangyuan as they wanted. What a joy!

Of course, it would have been even better if the questionnaire didn’t keep asking things like:

What kind of meat-filled pastry do you like best?

What qualities should a delicious meat-filled pastry have?

Among the following meat-filled pastries, which is your favorite?

After filling out so many questionnaires, many of the elderly participants began to lose confidence.

Whenever they picked one up and read the questions, the first thought that came to mind was:

Do I really like this pastry?

Chef Xiao Qin gives out almost the same questionnaire every day… Could it be because I filled it out wrong?

Should I actually prefer this kind instead?

The elderly were confused.

And Qin Huai was confused too.

Seven days. A full seven days. Qin Huai had been practicing Four-Joy Tangyuan every single day. Whether his tangyuan had actually improved, he wasn’t entirely sure—but his filling-mixing proficiency had certainly skyrocketed.

Yes, his filling-mixing skill had surged once again.

Qin Huai glanced at his game interface and saw that his filling-mixing proficiency had reached an astonishing:

(65,943 / 100,000)

It was miles ahead of everything else.

Meanwhile, the heat-control skill he had been diligently practicing—at least, it looked like diligent practice—was still struggling at the intermediate level. Ten thousand proficiency points might sound easy to earn, but for heat control, it was like climbing a mountain.

The last time his finger technique leveled up, his heat-control proficiency had been in the six-thousands. Now it had only just reached seven thousand—an increase of less than one thousand.

In contrast, his filling-mixing proficiency had jumped by a full eight thousand.

The disparity was so absurd that Qin Huai almost wanted to sit down and have a serious talk with his filling-mixing skill, asking it to slow down a little and wait for the others. Growing this fast was making heat control look downright awkward.

He wanted to be a well-rounded master, after all.

Being a one-subject genius was far too painful when tackling high-difficulty pastries.

At this rate, he feared that before his heat-control skill even reached advanced level, his filling-mixing skill would hit master level first.

Why did every pastry he practiced end up boosting filling-mixing?

Crab roe shumai was a filling-focused pastry, so rapid growth there made sense. But why was Four-Joy Tangyuan increasing it so quickly too?

Was filling really that important when making tangyuan?

Completely baffled, Chef Xiao Qin continued mixing filling in utter bewilderment.

In the kitchen, Qin Huai was mixing filling while Ou Yang counted the questionnaires. Two of the elderly participants had finally yielded to the calls of their children and grandchildren and bought tickets to leave that morning, so the number of taste-testers had changed. Ou Yang needed to repeatedly check the questionnaire count.

At this point, some might ask: did having a few extra questionnaires really matter?

Not at all.

Ou Yang simply wanted something to do—anything to keep himself from looking idle in the kitchen, like he was nothing more than the number-one VIP mooching off the tangyuan.

He had already counted them six times.

He really didn’t want to count them a seventh.

So Ou Yang decided he needed another task. He looked at Qin Huai, who had already started wrapping tangyuan. He looked at the living room outside, where people were beginning to gather. He glanced at the small stool Chen Huihong had left behind in the kitchen—she had taken Huihui home for a nap.

Then Ou Yang realized exactly what he could do.

He would chat.

“Qin Huai, when are you planning to head back home?” Ou Yang asked.

“The 6th,” Qin Huai replied.

Ou Yang quickly did the math and was shocked.

“Isn’t that already the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month?”

“Yep.” Qin Huai nodded. “I’ll take Luoluo back on the twenty-ninth. On New Year’s Eve, I’ll prepare the pastries for the reunion dinner. Then I’ll stay home making pastries until the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, after which I can return to Yunzhong Cafeteria.”

Ou Yang looked troubled.

“If I stayed in Suzhou until the twenty-ninth before going home, my grandfather would break my legs.”

Hearing that, Qin Huai couldn’t help but glance at him.

Interesting family rules you’ve got there. Losing 6.6 million in a failed business venture only nearly got you beaten to death by your father, but returning home on the twenty-ninth would get your legs broken outright.

The Ou Yang family really had some baffling priorities.

“Then just go back earlier,” Qin Huai said.

“Then if I go back early, I’ll miss out on several days of tangyuan,” Ou Yang blurted out.

Qin Huai: …

Do you really love tangyuan that much?

Enough to risk having your legs broken?

Seeing just how devoted Ou Yang was to tangyuan, Qin Huai stopped wrapping them, stared straight at him, and asked, “Ou Yang, what do you think makes Four-Joy Tangyuan better than ordinary tangyuan?”

Ou Yang was stumped. He thought about it for a long while before answering quietly:

“Four-Joy Tangyuan…”

“…has four different flavors?”

Qin Huai: …

I’m done. Let the world burn.

You should just buy your ticket home early and save your legs.

That evening, Qin Huai received another batch of questionnaires, much like the previous ones.

Everyone’s favorite filling was still red bean paste, though the proportions had shifted somewhat. After this period of intensive practice, the percentage of people preferring red bean paste had dropped to 50%. Sesame-sugar filling had risen to 25%, mixed-nut filling to 20%, and meat filling accounted for a mere 5%—practically negligible.

Well, actually, only one person had voted for the meat filling.

That person was Gong Liang.

After several days of questionnaires, Gong Liang had accurately figured out that Qin Huai’s real focus was practicing the meat filling. To make Qin Huai happy, he had been consistently selecting meat filling since the third day.

Qin Huai was genuinely touched by the thought.

He would have been even more touched if, when Gong Liang sat outside the kitchen with Gong Baozhu in the afternoons eating tangyuan, he didn’t exclusively eat the red bean and mixed-nut ones.

Looking at the freshly collected stack of questionnaires, Qin Huai let out a deep sigh.

On one hand, he knew perfectly well that with his current abilities, making an A-grade pastry was simply beyond him. The current state of his Four-Joy Tangyuan was entirely normal.

But on the other hand, he also knew exactly where the problem lay.

It was the plain meat filling.

As long as he could perfect the pure meat filling, Four-Joy Tangyuan would definitely reach A-grade.

And then he, Qin Huai, would finally have his first pastry created entirely through his own skill.

Part of him knew his skill level simply wasn’t there yet.

But another part kept wondering: What if it is? What if I’m just a little bit short? What if all I need is a little more practice?

The Four-Joy Tangyuan was like a carrot dangling in front of him. And Qin Huai, like the donkey turning the millstone, could only keep circling endlessly, chasing that stubborn, elusive bite.

“Brother, I finished my worksheets!”

Just as Qin Huai was staring at the questionnaires and questioning his life choices, Qin Luo returned from next door. She was carrying some snacks Gong Baozhu had given her. Qin Huai glanced over and saw that it was his favorite—honey butter potato chips.

There was still half a bag left. Naturally, Qin Huai swiped it from his sister’s hands and started eating.

“Since you’re done, go play on your phone for a while,” he said.

But Qin Luo didn’t touch her phone. Instead, she sat down across from him and said, “Brother, when I was doing homework next door today, I heard Grandpa Xu and the others discussing whether they should give false answers on the questionnaire.”

“What kind of false answers?” Qin Huai asked, still crunching on the chips.

Qin Luo tried to snatch the chips back, failed, and had to settle for grabbing a large handful for herself. After taking a bite, she explained:

“They were talking about whether they should choose the fresh meat filling for the last question.”

“Everyone can tell you made this questionnaire to practice your fresh meat tangyuan. But honestly, the fresh meat ones are just average—they’re nowhere near as tasty as the red bean ones.”

“Grandpa Xu and the others wanted to choose the meat filling to make you happy, but they were worried that giving false answers would affect your practice. Uncle Gong said that one person—him—was enough to let you know everyone supported you. If too many people picked it, it would look fake.”

Qin Huai froze for a moment.

“Did Grandpa Xu and the others discuss why the fresh meat tangyuan isn’t good?” he asked.

Qin Luo thought for a moment. Qin Huai returned the bag of chips, and her thinking speed improved immediately.

“They mentioned it a few times, but nobody really knew what was wrong. They just felt that the fresh meat tangyuan simply wasn’t as tasty as the others.”

“No one wants to eat the fresh meat one first. They usually save it for third, or even last—after they’ve gotten tired of the sweet fillings, they eat the meat one to balance things out.”

“I don’t think you need to worry too much, Brother. The fresh meat tangyuan not being as good as the others is just a skill issue. It’s the same as your Dream-Fulfillment Shaobing. At least the fresh meat tangyuan tastes better than that.”

Qin Huai: ?

Who taught you how to comfort people? Ou Yang? Chen Huihong?

Silently, Qin Huai took the chips away again.

“That’s enough. Go to bed early.”

“And tomorrow morning, go across the street for tangyuan.”

Qin Luo: ???

Qin Luo: QAQ

Qin Luo: My chips!!!

Brother, give me back my chips! I only ate half the bag!