AGN -Chapter 273 Cao Guixiang

Seeing Qin Huai arrive, Qin Luo felt like she had found a savior—and also like she had found proof. She lifted her head proudly, straightened her back, and ran over with a large porcelain bowl in her hands. She grabbed Qin Huai’s arm and said loudly with great pride: “Look, my brother is here! My brother is definitely the best! Brother, tell them I’m right!”

Qin Huai: ?

At this age, does he still have to go through the “my brother can do anything” phase?

He had originally planned to say the child had eaten enough tangyuan for two days already, but now it looked like she’d need to eat two more days’ worth.

“Luo Luo, have you finished the math homework your teacher left you?” Qin Huai asked.

Qin Luo immediately straightened… and then slumped again.

Zhang Zhiyun held his large bowl and sized Qin Huai up. He snorted in dissatisfaction, but politely said: “Although the big tangyuan your brother makes is really delicious—definitely the best I’ve ever eaten—it still can’t compare to what my grandma makes.”

“My grandma just hasn’t made big tangyuan before. If she did, it would definitely taste better than your brother’s!”

Just then, a warm voice came from behind him.

“Yun Yun, what are you talking about?”

Everyone turned toward the voice.

An elderly woman walked over. She wore a red floral padded jacket, was not very tall, slightly plump, with ordinary features—but her eyes were warm and kind, giving off a very gentle impression.

Cao Guixiang.

“Grandma!” Zhang Zhiyun immediately felt backed up as soon as he saw her. He rushed over with his bowl and pointed at Qin Luo indignantly.

“She said her brother’s big tangyuan is better than yours!”

Cao Guixiang: “……”

She said nothing at first. Instead, she looked down at the bowl in her grandson’s hands and was slightly surprised.

“Four-joy tangyuan.”

Then she followed his finger and looked toward Qin Huai and Qin Luo. After studying Qin Huai for a moment, she naturally took the bowl, picked up a spoon, and scooped one out.

She tasted it lightly.

Her expression gradually turned to surprise. As she ate, she kept observing Qin Huai, as if he were something rare. She slowly finished an entire tangyuan.

It was sesame filling.

“In terms of four-joy tangyuan… I really am not as good as this young man,” Cao Guixiang said with a smile, returning the bowl to her grandson.

Zhang Zhiyun felt like the sky had collapsed.

His expression read: I was ready to fight to the death—Grandma, why did you surrender first?

Grandma, how could you give up so quickly? I just started fighting!

Cao Guixiang patiently explained: “Four-joy tangyuan is a specialty from Changzhou, from the Jiangnan region. I don’t actually make many Jiangnan-style pastries. I’m a bit better at noodles. I can also make some traditional northern pastries like steamed buns, mung bean cake, fried dough twists… but Jiangnan desserts? I’ve never really made them.”

“If it’s just about pretty shapes, I can manage. But for something that focuses on flavor combinations like this, I can’t compare.”

“The tangyuan we usually eat during Lantern Festival is actually bought from the supermarket.”

Zhang Zhiyun immediately perked up again.

“So what? My grandma just doesn’t make this kind of big tangyuan! But if it’s noodles, my grandma’s are definitely better than your brother’s!”

Qin Luo immediately forgot about her math worksheet, let go of Qin Huai’s arm, and rushed forward:

“No way! My brother’s chicken soup noodles are super delicious!”

“My grandma’s are better!”

“My brother’s are better!”

“My grandma’s are better!”

“My brother’s are better!”

Everyone: “……”

The Zhang family silently looked away, pretending they didn’t know this embarrassing child.

Qin Huai also looked up at the sky, pretending he didn’t have this embarrassing little sister.

Zhang Chu quickly stepped forward and quietly explained to his wife what had just happened, as well as Qin Huai’s identity. He tried to persuade her not to let Qin Huai get overly fixated on molds like his father did.

People should know when to let go. You have to be realistic.

After hearing everything, Cao Guixiang said: “If that’s the case, then just make a few sets of molds for him according to what he likes. With his skill level, as long as he knows the steps, it won’t be a problem.”

Zhang Chu: ?!

At that moment, Qin Huai brought over two bowls of four-joy tangyuan—one for Cao Guixiang, one for Zhang Chu.

“Grandpa Zhang, Grandma Cao, please try some tangyuan.”

Zhang Chu took the bowl and instinctively ate a bite. The moment he swallowed, he was shocked. He blurted out: “Are you the grandson of Qin Guisheng?!”

Qin Huai: ?

Qin Guisheng? Who is that? We’re already 980,000 words in—how is there still someone he doesn’t know?

Cao Guixiang lightly elbowed Zhang Chu and rolled her eyes with restraint: “This is Qinjiacun. Isn’t it normal for a young chef surnamed Qin to be here? My junior brother has been abroad for decades—how could his grandson be here?”

“If we had met his grandson, would we still not have been able to contact my junior or senior brother all these years?”

Zhang Chu quickly apologized: “Sorry, sorry, I spoke too fast. I was mistaken. Don’t take it to heart, young chef Qin.”

Then he turned to his wife again: “I really lost my mind today. When he mentioned molds earlier, I thought his father was someone who got tricked twenty years ago and came to settle scores. My head’s still spinning.”

Cao Guixiang sighed helplessly: “You came to someone else’s house to eat tangyuan without even understanding the situation. I still don’t even know why we came.”

Zhang Chu defended himself: “I didn’t know! Village secretary Qin called us over. I thought the village was holding an event, like a festival where anyone passing by could get a bowl of tangyuan for good luck.”

He pointed around: “Look around, doesn’t it look like that?”

Cao Guixiang: “……”

It actually did.

When she came, she also thought the village was holding an event and even had her phone ready to take pictures of dragon dances.

Standing nearby, Qin Huai: “……”

Could you two at least lower your voices a bit when talking about me?

Then Zhang Chu turned directly to Qin Huai and asked: “Guixiang, are you sure this young chef can use the molds I make? Didn’t you say only professional white-starch pastry chefs could use them?”

“He can,” Cao Guixiang said firmly. “After one bowl of tangyuan, you already started calling him ‘young chef.’ What do you think?”

At this point, Qin Huai felt it was time to show a little… subtle flex.

He cleared his throat to get their attention, then introduced himself sincerely: “Grandpa Zhang, I’m a professional white-starch pastry chef. I’ve been featured in Zhiwei. The cover pastry of this year’s opening issue of Zhiwei was mine.”

After saying this, Qin Huai felt refreshed.

Ever since he learned how prestigious Zhiwei was, he hadn’t had a proper chance to casually show off like this.

Then he saw Zhang Chu looking at him blankly. After a moment, he turned to Cao Guixiang and asked: “Guixiang, what’s Zhiwei?”

Cao Guixiang also looked a little confused: “Sounds like a magazine. I’ve been retired for so many years… it might be a pretty famous one, I guess.”

Zhang Chu suddenly understood: “So that’s how it is. Master Qin really has a worthy successor! Little Qin chef is truly better than the blue after coming from the indigo. Don’t worry, your Uncle Zhang keeps his word—just tell me how many sets of molds you need. I’ll make them for you for free, and I’ll use the best wood!”

Qin Huai, whose attempt at showing off had failed, silently looked up at the sky.

After awkwardly chatting at the kitchen doorway with Zhang Chu and Cao Guixiang—and then awkwardly chatting with their son and daughter—Qin Huai returned to continue his work.

The helpers in the kitchen were still waiting for Chef Qin to return and take charge.

Qin Huai had no prior relationship with Zhang Chu’s family. They had never interacted before, except that Qin Congwen had once paid a hefty “tax of intelligence” years ago. In short, there was basically no connection.

Today’s meeting was mainly arranged through the village party secretary. Qin Huai had no other intentions—he simply wanted Zhang Chu to make another batch of molds. Adding him on WeChat was enough; the rest could be discussed later.

Zhang Zhiyun and Qin Luo had already run outside the courtyard arguing about whether Grandma or Brother was better. The rest of the Zhang family held their bowls and listened to bits of gossip here and there. After finishing the four-joy tangyuan, they also shared some sanding buns and fermented rice steamed buns.

“Mom, try this bun. It’s really good!” Zhang Chiyuan excitedly stuffed a bun into his mother’s hands. Cao Guixiang got two, Zhang Chu got one.

After a bowl of four-joy tangyuan, Cao Guixiang was already mostly full. Earlier, she had eaten two dishes at the village chief’s house in the village she had worked in as a sent-down youth, so she wasn’t in the mood for more buns. She just took a small bite.

That single bite shocked her again.

Eating pastries is like this: outsiders eat the excitement, insiders eat the technique.

When she tasted the four-joy tangyuan, she had already noticed Qin Huai’s excellent seasoning ability. The red bean and sesame fillings stood out beautifully; the meat filling was slightly weaker; the “hundred-fruit” filling was richly layered and distinctive. Overall, the balance was solid.

From just that bowl, she could tell Qin Huai was not an ordinary white-starch pastry chef. He had likely received proper training under a master, had excellent recipes, and combined that with years of relentless practice to reach his current level at such a young age.

But after one bite of the sanding bun, she immediately noticed something else—his exceptional dough-kneading skills.

Just these two items alone were enough to prove he was already a mature pastry chef—someone ready to go independent.

Cao Guixiang, who had long retired, suddenly became curious about what kind of master could have taught such an outstanding disciple.

While chewing her bun, she noticed the village secretary staring longingly at her food. She paused, then subconsciously handed him the untouched bun.

The village secretary hadn’t expected to get a “work meal” even while off duty. Overjoyed, he took it and began eating.

“Village Secretary Qin, I’d like to ask you something,” Cao Guixiang said. “Do you know who Little Qin chef’s master is?”

“Master?” the village secretary said vaguely. After thinking for two seconds, he shook his head decisively. “Where would Qin Huai have a master? I heard from his grandfather that his skills are self-taught.”

Then, as someone who had recently become addicted to gossip—once someone started talking, he couldn’t stop—he switched into “work reporting mode.” Without a tea cup in hand (he instinctively reached for one but found none), he simply poured everything he knew out.

It was nothing more than: an orphanage background, born with a younger brother and sister, innate white-starch talent maxed out, caused a sensation in the village during university, went to the city after inheriting an opportunity, and returned after half a year of growth—an almost “web novel protagonist” life story.

Outsiders thought it sounded like fiction. Experts thought it sounded like mythology.

Cao Guixiang was stunned.

Self-taught?

You’re telling me this skill is self-taught?

Even she, once considered a genius in her craft, would never have reached this level through self-study alone.

By the end, she was holding half a bun she had forgotten to eat and asked blankly: “Can I go inside and take a look at how Little Qin chef makes pastries?”

The village secretary went to negotiate.

The Qin family kitchen was a restricted area—no idle visitors allowed.

But exceptions could be made.

These past few days, while gossiping about Zhang Chu’s family, the village secretary had spent 40% of his storytelling praising Zhang Chu’s extraordinary woodworking skills, admired by ten miles around, making all nearby production teams jealous.

The remaining 60% was all about Cao Guixiang’s cooking—vegetables, wild greens, stewed fish, and pork dishes after slaughtering a pig that were so good they could make people swallow their tongues.

For someone as careful with words as the village secretary to associate “fresh” with pork dishes showed just how extraordinary her cooking was.

Given Zhang Chu’s woodworking skill level, Qin Huai had seen molds made by him from over twenty years ago. By analogy, Qin Huai estimated Cao Guixiang’s cooking ability was on par with Huang Shengli.

A retired master.

Qin Huai welcomed all such experts—preferably even those willing to give him online lessons.

There were simply too many things he needed to practice: fillings, hand techniques, heat control.

He used to think he was already decent at pastries. But after his system activated and he could see his stats panel, he now felt like he was lacking in everything.

Right now, Qin Huai was carefully seasoning meat filling.

The meat filling in four-joy tangyuan was still something he hadn’t fully mastered.

He knew it was a matter of skill level.

His level simply wasn’t high enough; the meat filling lagged behind the other three sweet fillings.

A pure issue of proficiency.

After these days of frantic tangyuan making, his filling skill had increased significantly:

(82314 / 100000)

At this rate, he had a chance to reach master level before the Lantern Festival.

If he could reach mastery in fillings first, then complete the four-joy tangyuan, it would become his first true A-grade pastry.

So whenever he reached the filling step, Qin Huai became extremely focused.

He finished seasoning.

He began mixing the meat filling.

“Have you tried soaking the meat filling in starch water twice?”

A gentle female voice suddenly sounded beside him.

“Huh?” Qin Huai turned around and saw Cao Guixiang.

She was looking down at the bowl of meat filling, saying calmly: “When I tasted your four-joy tangyuan, I noticed something. The meat filling is clearly weaker than the other three sweet fillings. But your seasoning skill is very strong—you have a good palate. Given how well you make the sanding buns, there shouldn’t be such a big imbalance.”

“So I guessed you might have special methods for the other fillings.”

“I’m not very good at pastries, and even less good at sweet fillings. But I do happen to have a few small tricks for savory and meat fillings.”

“If you soak the meat filling in starch water twice, the effect will be quite different. Want to try it?”

Cao Guixiang smiled at him, as if she were not revealing some secret technique at all, but merely sharing a simple kitchen tip.

Her eyes curved gently as she smiled—like a kind, approachable elder.