AGN -Chapter 267 Happy New Year!

After breakfast, Master Qin went into full production mode.

Three-diced buns—done!

Five-diced buns—done!

Regular pork buns—done!

Radish buns—done!

Char Siu buns—done!

Vermicelli buns—done!

Glutinous rice siu mai—done!

…and more.

No one in the kitchen had a moment to spare. Even He Cheng, who had only been tasked with boiling water, ended up coming in to help tend the fires. Third Great-Aunt and Sixth Great-Aunt soon realized that the several wood-fired stoves were more than they could handle on their own, so they urgently recruited a few extra helpers from the village.

Qin Luo and her uncle-in-law, He Hua, chopped so much firewood they practically became laborers. Doing strength training at home during the New Year wasn’t exactly how Qin Luo had imagined spending the holiday. By the end, even she was exhausted, and she ran to beg Grandpa to renovate the kitchen next year and replace the traditional earthen stoves with gas ones.

“We already installed air conditioning in the kitchen,” she argued. “Can’t we embrace modern technology for the other equipment too? The hot dishes for New Year’s Eve dinner are just simple stir-fries anyway. There’s really no need to insist on wood-fired stoves just for steaming pastries.”

Grandpa Qin immediately declared his granddaughter hopelessly confused.

“If we switched to gas stoves, then what would you and your uncle-in-law even be useful for during New Year? How would you earn the right to stand tall while eating all these pastries?”

For the entire afternoon, the kitchen was shrouded in steam.

Batch after batch of dim sum emerged from the steamers. Each variety was only made in two batches, so the actual quantities weren’t enormous.

At first glance, the Qin family didn’t seem particularly large—one table was enough for New Year’s Eve dinner. But in reality, there were many relatives eager for pastries, and plenty more waiting hungrily elsewhere.

Not to mention the relatives right next door.

Qin Tianhe, relying shamelessly on his advanced age, could simply carry something over and invite himself in. The rest of his family, however, were too embarrassed to come over and freeload so openly. This year, Qin Tianhe’s youngest son, Qin Dazhuang, and his family hadn’t managed to get train tickets home for the holiday. But Qin Tianhe had plenty of children—three sons and two daughters in total.

Ever since they had secured the opportunity to tear down the wall between their properties, Qin Tianhe’s children had gathered every New Year with their entire families in tow. Daughters, sons-in-law, grandchildren—everyone came. Some of the daughters even managed to eat two New Year’s Eve dinners in one night: the first round at Qin Tianhe’s house, and the second at their husbands’ family homes.

And if they could slip a couple of buns into their pockets before heading off to the second round, they would undoubtedly be the stars of that dinner table.

While the Qin family kitchen steamed away all afternoon, Qin Tianhe’s younger grandchildren spent the entire time pressed against the window, staring longingly at the house next door.

They couldn’t actually see what was being made inside, but they could smell it.

Such an intoxicating aroma of fresh flour!

One sniff was enough to know it would be fluffy, snowy white, warm and soft to the touch. One bite would bring the incomparable satisfaction that only carbohydrates can provide, and with careful chewing, a subtle sweetness would emerge.

Qin Tianhe’s grandchildren lacked imagination. Their minds could only conjure up plain steamed buns and pork buns. They had no idea that their dear grandfather had already secretly eaten two fermented rice steamed buns next door.

The children were drooling outside.

Third Great-Aunt and Sixth Great-Aunt were drooling inside.

It was simply too extravagant—far too extravagant.

In all their years of tending fires in the Qin family kitchen, they had never seen anything like this.

Meanwhile, Qin Huai was making longevity noodles.

The chicken broth was already prepared. His stock-making technique might not have been perfect, but the ingredients were beyond reproach. The broth, made from the sacrifice of seven old hens, smelled so fragrant that Qin Luo wanted to sneak two whole bowls. Qin Huai was confident that tonight’s longevity noodles would ensure those seven hens had not died in vain.

Not one of them.

To the untrained eyes of Third Great-Aunt and Sixth Great-Aunt, it seemed as though all the buns, steamed buns, and siu mai were already finished. In reality, everything Qin Huai planned to make that day had entered its final stage.

The pork buns, radish buns, siu mai, and fermented rice steamed buns had all been fully steamed, but that was only because they weren’t the stars of tonight’s feast. The Qin family had limited time, many tasks, and only so much room in their stomachs. These everyday pastries could be enjoyed gradually from the first to the fifteenth day of the New Year. Making them in advance simply freed up time for the more important dishes.

These were all destined for the mystery gift packs—meant to be admired, not immediately eaten.

The real highlights had yet to take shape.

The gastrodia stewed pigeons were simmering in the pot. Qin Huai had only prepared two pigeons—just enough for everyone in the family to have a little soup. Besides, his stewing skills weren’t exactly outstanding, and the pigeon meat could always be eaten on the first day of the New Year.

The Guo’er pastries had been prepared as frozen raw dough; once thawed, they would go straight into the steamer.

All four fillings for the Four-Joy Tangyuan were ready. All that remained was to wrap them.

The tangerine peel sweet soup had already been cooked and served. Although Third Great-Aunt, Sixth Great-Aunt, and the others didn’t quite understand why a sweet soup made with tangerine peel, white fungus, and lotus seeds was called “tangerine peel tea,” none of them asked.

After all, they had already secretly tasted it.

And it was delicious.

With something this good, who cared what it was called?

It had tangerine peel in it, didn’t it?

As for the three-diced and five-diced buns, Qin Huai had made two batches of each, but only steamed one batch so far. Those steamed buns were meant to be distributed around the village—two buns per household. How each family chose to divide them was their own business. Little Chef Qin’s goodwill was what mattered.

He did this every year. In previous years, he had given out regular pork buns. This year, the gifts were upgraded—premium pork buns.

The second, unsteamed batch would be cooked closer to dinnertime—just enough for the family to eat. Whatever remained would be sent along with Qin Xiuli for the second round of New Year’s Eve dinner at her in-laws’.

By the end of the night, Qin Xiuli’s family of three would each be carrying at least two large bags stuffed with buns and steamed bread. Honestly, if Qin Xiuli didn’t take a lap or two around the village that evening, it would be doing a disservice to the three-diced buns, five-diced buns, and fermented rice steamed buns in those bags.

As for the Dream-Realizing Shaobing, there was no question—it had to be made fresh. The meat filling needed to be stir-fried on the spot, and the flatbread had to be eaten piping hot straight from the griddle.

The only item that truly required a significant amount of time was the proper version of the Apple-Faced Guo’er.

That was a genuine work of art—a true showpiece pastry.

Qin Huai might not be able to make the intricate Pinched-Flower Lantern Buns, but Apple-Faced Guo’er was well within his abilities. Previously, whenever he made them, he only handled the shaping and left the filling to others.

But before the New Year, so that his younger sister could proudly parade the pastries around the village, Qin Huai had deliberately taken some time—amid all his Four-Joy Tangyuan practice—to receive an intensive crash course from Zheng Siyuan on preparing the filling for Apple-Faced Guo’er.

The results were average, but good enough.

Qin Huai had great confidence in the villagers of Qin Family Village. He was willing to bet that not only had they never eaten Apple-Faced Guo’er, they had never even seen or heard of it.

When the time came, the Apple-Faced Guo’er would be the first thing brought to the table. Everyone would take pictures and post them on social media. Then there’d be no rush to eat them—they could be saved for the next day, when Qin Luo and He Cheng could take them around and show them off.

It didn’t matter if they were cold; they’d still be edible.

It didn’t matter if they didn’t taste quite as good as regular Guo’er, either. What mattered was the atmosphere. This was about appreciating art—about savoring refinement itself.

Later, Qin Luo and He Cheng could share them with their friends. Once the friends took a bite and exclaimed, “Wow, this actually tastes like apple!” then the Apple-Faced Guo’er would have fulfilled its New Year mission.

Qin Huai had planned this year’s pastries down to the smallest detail. Every item had its own role.

And now he was carrying out that plan methodically.

First, he rolled out the noodles. Once they were ready, he set them aside rather than cooking them immediately. Then he began wrapping the tangyuan.

There was no need to wrap all of them at once—just enough for tonight’s dinner and for guests to take home. The rest could be finished after the New Year’s Eve meal. After all, the Qin family’s New Year’s Eve traditions were fairly simple: watch television, set off fireworks, and play mahjong.

Qin Huai’s mahjong skills were mediocre, so he usually just watched TV. This year, though, he could watch television while wrapping Four-Joy Tangyuan.

Surely that level of dedication would move the god of Four-Joy Tangyuan and bless him with an A-grade batch this New Year!

After wrapping the tangyuan, Qin Huai started cooking the noodles.

At the same time, he handed out mystery pastry gift bags to all the helpers who had completed their work.

Buns and steamed bread—unlimited supply!

Everyone who received one of the surprise pastry bundles beamed with delight.

“Huaihuai, Happy New Year!”

For Aunt Wang’s New Year gift bag, Qin Huai quietly slipped in two raw Guo’er pastries as a special bonus. He even leaned over and whispered that they were something special and that she should save them for herself.

Aunt Wang instantly understood. She promptly pulled a small plastic bag out of her pocket and carefully placed the raw pastries inside separately.

Qin Huai was speechless.

Who would have thought that Aunt Wang would come to help not only carrying her own cleaver, but also bringing her own little plastic bags?

After the pastries were distributed, the kitchen became much quieter.

Qin Luo—whose tendency to sneak bites had become a serious concern—was promptly banished and sent to the smaller kitchen to help Grandma Qin.

Grandma Qin was over there preparing the New Year’s Eve dinner.

Qin Huai now entered the final stage of preparations.

Dream-Fulfillment Shaobing—done!

Longevity noodles—done!

Three-diced buns, five-diced buns, and Guo’er—done!

Apple-Faced Guo’er—complete!

Four-Joy Tangyuan—done!

Stir-fried cabbage with pork—done!

Every single pastry and dish was ready.

At exactly six o’clock, the Qin family began their New Year’s Eve dinner on schedule.

The whole family gathered around the round dining table. At its center sat an extravagant display of beautifully arranged pastries in every shape and form. Around the outer edge was a ring of lavish seafood dishes—ornate, impressive, and, in all likelihood, almost entirely ignored.

In front of each person were two bowls: one filled with longevity noodles, the other with Four-Joy Tangyuan.

The longevity noodles carried a rich chicken flavor. The broth was somewhat oily, but that was hardly a problem. Grandma Qin wasn’t particularly skilled at clarifying broth with chicken stock, so the soup retained the classic golden-yellow hue of a hearty chicken broth.

But that was no problem at all.

After all, broth lovingly simmered from seven old hens was bound to be delicious.

He Cheng was already completely entranced.

He could tell from Qin Luo’s social media posts that his cousin had been eating well over the past six months, but he had never imagined she had been eating this well.

Qin Xiuli was equally captivated. In fact, she was beginning to feel reluctant about attending the second round of New Year’s Eve dinner at her in-laws’.

Although Qin Huai was the head chef, the official start of the meal still depended on the family elder, Grandpa Qin.

Grandpa Qin had never been one for long speeches. Picking up his chopsticks, he gave the order:

“Huaihuai worked hard again this year. Happy New Year, everyone! Noodles should be eaten while they’re hot—Huaihuai said we eat the noodles first!”

Slurp.

That was Grandpa Qin eating his noodles.

SLURP!

That was everyone else following suit.

Slurp, slurp, slurp.

For a while, the only sound at the table was the continuous slurping of noodles.

At a moment like this, no one could spare the breath to say things like, “Happy New Year,” or “Brother, you’re amazing,” or “Brother, your noodles are unbelievably delicious,” or even, “Brother, next year I’d be more than willing to come to Shanshi for extra tutoring.”

With mouths full of noodles, no one could manage more than a muffled sound.

Then came:

Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.

Qin Luo had already moved on to drinking the soup.

One smooth motion.

“Brother!” Qin Luo shouted at the top of her lungs. “Your chicken noodle soup is absolutely amazing!”

“Happy New Year!”