AGN -Chapter 295 Who Wouldn’t Want Such an Outstanding Employee?

In the back kitchen, all the ingredients and staff were fully prepared.

The head chef of Yushan Pavilion, surnamed Zhang, would not be participating in tomorrow’s birthday banquet. He simply greeted Qin Huai and Zang Mu in the kitchen before happily clocking out and leaving.

That was understandable. Although Chef Zhang’s skills were average—his signature dishes clearly showed he hadn’t fully mastered them yet—he was still the head chef of a high-end restaurant. There was no way he would lower himself to act as a helper at Han Youxin’s birthday banquet.

Chen Gong prepared a comfortable chair for Han Guishan, placing it in a spacious area away from the stove so he could sit and wait for the food.

Tomorrow, Qin Huai only needed to make three types of dim sum: Four-Joy Tangyuan, Fermented Rice Steamed Buns, and Sanding Bao (three-diced buns). Originally, Qin Huai had planned to skip the Sanding Bao and make Apple Flour Pastry instead. In terms of taste, Apple Flour Pastry wasn’t as good as Sanding Bao, but it looked more refined, had higher “status,” and was a standard banquet dessert.

If Apple Flour Pastry appeared among the desserts at a banquet, guests would immediately know the pastry chef was of a very high caliber.

But Han Guishan didn’t choose it.

Chen Gong had tasted the dishes and reported back: the Apple Flour Pastry had excellent presentation but average flavor, while the Sanding Bao looked ordinary but tasted better.

Following his principle that food should prioritize taste above all else, Han Guishan chose the Sanding Bao without hesitation.

Thus, the three desserts for tomorrow’s banquet could be simply summarized as buns, steamed buns, and tangyuan. At first glance, it might seem underwhelming, but upon tasting, one would discover hidden depth.

For Qin Huai, making these three items didn’t require much assistance—just one helper with solid knife skills and decent heat control to help cook the filling for the Sanding Bao.

Zang Liang fit the role perfectly.

In fact, Qin Huai really needed a helper like Zang Liang.

Qin Huai began kneading dough while Zang Liang chopped meat beside him. Without explaining how fine the filling for the Four-Joy Tangyuan should be, Qin Huai simply showed him a photo of the minced meat previously prepared by Cao Guixiang.

Zang Liang was stunned by how incredible it looked. Without hesitation, he immediately forwarded the photo to Tan Weian. As expected of best friends—their habits were exactly the same.

After seeing the photo, Zang Liang admitted, in a very apprentice-like manner, that he couldn’t chop meat to that level but would try his best to get close. Qin Huai reassured him not to force it—failing to reach that level was completely normal.

If Zang Liang could match Cao Guixiang’s standard, he wouldn’t just be a “little prince of knife skills”—he’d be a “knife emperor,” ready to overthrow the throne.

Qin Huai continued kneading dough for the fermented rice buns.

Since this was just a tasting session, the quantity didn’t need to be large—just enough to satisfy the main sponsor.

Zang Mu, meanwhile, was cutting tofu.

Qin Huai knew about the famous Huaiyang dish “Wensi Tofu,” a dazzling display of knife skills—but what Zang Mu was making was clearly not that.

Zang Mu was carefully slicing the tofu into small diamond-shaped pieces. His movements were slow and unremarkable at first glance, but upon closer inspection, each cut was decisive, and every piece was identical in size, shape, and cut—like a perfect 1:1 replication.

Qin Huai, currently training his knife skills and still struggling even with slicing radishes, fully understood the level of mastery this required.

He stared at Zang Mu almost openly.

As Tan Weian’s good friend, Zang Liang knew that Qin Huai was a late bloomer in cooking and unfamiliar with many basics, so he thoughtfully explained: “My master is making Pingqiao Tofu.”

“Pingqiao Tofu?” Qin Huai thought for a moment, certain it wasn’t on Huang Ji’s menu.

Huang Ji only served Eight-Treasure Tofu, Crab Roe Tofu, and Wensi Tofu.

“Pingqiao Tofu is also a famous Huaiyang dish. Compared to other famous dishes, it’s more homestyle, but it’s not without reputation—it was once included in the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast. My master is especially skilled at tofu dishes, and Pingqiao Tofu is his specialty.”

“The most remarkable part of Pingqiao Tofu is its seasoning. Most dishes use chicken stock, pork bone broth, or fish soup—but Pingqiao Tofu uniquely uses chicken stock combined with crucian carp brain.”

“Of course, that’s not all—crab roe and lard are also added.”

“And unlike most dishes that are cooled slightly before serving to avoid burning guests, Pingqiao Tofu looks like it isn’t steaming much when served—but it’s actually extremely hot.”

“But I think the hardest part is the knife work. The tofu must be sliced thin—the thinner it is, the better it absorbs flavor.”

“People often say it’s a homestyle dish, but it’s actually quite difficult. There are simple versions and high-level versions. As my master says, being able to cook flashy dishes isn’t true skill—mastering homestyle cooking is.”

Qin Huai nodded, fully agreeing with that last statement.

He had already experienced just how incredible well-made homestyle dishes could be—from Cao Guixiang.

They were unbelievably good.

Eating simple stir-fries every day was so satisfying it made you want to chew the bowl along with the rice.

After listening to Zang Liang’s explanation, Qin Huai went back to staring at Zang Mu.

Masters with both exceptional knife skills and such slow, deliberate movements were rare—he had to observe more.

Zang Liang: ?

Was his explanation not interesting enough?

Didn’t Tan Weian say Qin Huai loved listening to this kind of thing? Something was off—he’d have to talk to Tan Weian about it later.

Since the portions were small, Qin Huai quickly and skillfully finished making the fermented rice buns, Sanding Bao, and Four-Joy Tangyuan.

While the fermented buns were undergoing their second proofing, the other master chef for tomorrow’s banquet, Tong Deyan, arrived.

Unlike the quiet and reserved Zang Mu, Tong Deyan practically had “Don’t bother me” written across his face.

He came alone, without assistants. After entering the kitchen, he didn’t waste time chatting or greeting Han Guishan and Chen Gong. He simply assigned a few helpers and got straight to work.

A classic Shandong cuisine chef, he immediately began handling meat dishes—chicken, duck, fish, and large pork knuckles. His movements were fast and bold, his knife work broad and forceful—a complete contrast to Zang Mu.

Qin Huai finally understood: although Chen Gong seemed to have casually selected two famous master chefs and, on Xu Cheng’s recommendation, chosen Qin Huai among pastry chefs, the choices were actually well thought out.

Tong Deyan handled the heavy meat dishes, Zang Mu handled refined vegetarian dishes, and Qin Huai handled seemingly simple but actually intricate dim sum.

There were many Huaiyang master chefs in Jiangnan, yet Chen Gong specifically chose Zang Mu, recommended by Pei Shenghua, for a reason.

Zang Mu was one of the rare Huaiyang masters who specialized not in grand showpiece dishes like braised whole pig head, triple-stuffed duck, or stewed silver carp head—but in more homestyle dishes like Pingqiao Tofu.

The value of a top-tier assistant just kept rising.

While Zang Mu and Tong Deyan were still busy, Qin Huai’s dim sum was already ready.

Han Guishan was prepared.

The boss himself had even stood up.

Seeing that Han Guishan had practically written “I want to eat” all over his face—but the tangyuan had only cooled for 1 minute 30 seconds and still needed 2 more minutes—Qin Huai silently handed him a slightly hot but edible fermented rice bun to start with.

[Fermented Rice Steamed Bun – Grade B]

A Grade B bun was still quite good.

This was one of the few dim sum items Qin Huai made relying solely on his dough fermentation skill. Until that skill improved, the bun’s rating wouldn’t rise much.

But that was fine. Even at Grade B, these buns were already a “white moonlight” favorite for many regular customers of Huang Ji.

Han Guishan didn’t mind its plain appearance at all—he had already smelled the rich aroma of fermented rice.

A wonderfully fragrant aroma.

He took a big bite, eating half the bun in one go—his style bold and unrestrained.

Chewing as he nodded in approval.

He took a second bite, finishing off more than half of the fermented rice bun. After chewing only a few times and swallowing, he stuffed the remaining bit into his mouth and immediately grabbed another one to eat.

Qin Huai was just about to remind President Han not to eat two buns—there were still Sanding Bao and Four-Joy Tangyuan coming up, both quite filling.

And after the banquet dim sum, there were also the pickled vegetable dumplings that Han Guishan had specifically requested. Meanwhile, Zang Mu and Tong Deyan were still cooking dishes on the side.

Boss Han, you’re not an 18-year-old anymore—take it easy when eating!

Just as Qin Huai was about to speak, Chen Gong stopped him with a look.

Qin Huai: ?

Could it be that Chen Gong wasn’t actually loyal to Han Guishan? Was he only pretending on the surface, while secretly plotting to harm his boss by stuffing him to death?

Han Guishan finished the second bun in just a few bites, then looked at Qin Huai eagerly.

“Chef Qin, what’s next?”

“Your buns are really good—chewy with a strong fermented aroma, but without that unpleasant lees taste. I’ve had fermented rice buns elsewhere before, but none were better than yours. No wonder Xu Cheng recommended you.”

After speaking, Han Guishan smacked his lips.

“What a pity… I should’ve made time to go to Huang Ji earlier to try the pastries.”

Qin Huai was almost amused by his genuinely regretful expression. Who would’ve thought that after eating the buns, his first reaction would be regret over not having tried the pastries?

“Not a problem. I should be going to Huang Ji for an exchange in September. You’ll be able to try them then,” Qin Huai said, handing over the Four-Joy Tangyuan.

The tangyuan was the highlight—it had to be served first. If Han Guishan filled up on Sanding Bao and couldn’t eat the tangyuan, today’s tasting would be completely backward.

Qin Huai never forgot the core of Chen Gong’s side mission: make Han Guishan shine at tomorrow’s birthday banquet.

If the boss was satisfied today, that was already half the success.

Hearing he could eat the pastries in September, Han Guishan was delighted. He happily took the tangyuan and was about to eat.

“President Han, try this one first,” Qin Huai pointed to the red bean filling.

Han Guishan followed his suggestion.

One bite—and his eyes widened, clearly thinking: This is tangyuan?

If this was tangyuan, then what had he been eating these past few days?

There’s something this delicious in the world, and Xu Cheng never told him?!

Without hesitation, Han Guishan devoured the bowl, chewing rapidly. In the blink of an eye, an entire bowl of Four-Joy Tangyuan was gone.

Qin Huai: …

The buns were one thing—eating them fast was understandable. But this was glutinous rice… and he ate it just as quickly…

Boss Han really was something.

He’d probably place well in a speed-eating contest. Whether his appetite was huge or not was another matter—but his eating speed was undeniably impressive.

Still unsatisfied, Han Guishan drank a couple of sips of the soup, set the bowl down, and his face practically said: I want another bowl.

Qin Huai definitely couldn’t allow that. If the client ended up overeating and being sent to the hospital during a tasting session, Qin Huai wasn’t sure whether that would count as a disgrace or an achievement.

“President Han, it’s time to try the Sanding Bao,” Qin Huai said, handing him one while quietly hiding the rest that had already been steamed.

Han Guishan accepted it with slight disappointment, took a big bite—and his eyes lit up again.

Honestly, the combination worked quite well. After the sweetness of the tangyuan, following up with a savory, umami-filled meat bun enhanced the experience.

Han Guishan finished the bun in just a few bites and wanted another.

At that moment, Chen Gong spoke:

“President Han, Chef Qin didn’t make that many. Some are still unsteamed. Why not pack some to take home so Madam Wang can enjoy them fresh?”

The “Madam Wang” he referred to was Han Guishan’s wife, Wang Jing.

“That makes sense,” Han Guishan nodded. “I’ll give her a call.”

“Jingjing’s been dieting lately and doesn’t eat carbs at night. If she doesn’t want them, I’ll just eat more myself.”

Qin Huai: ?

Han Guishan stepped out to make the call.

Only after he left the kitchen did Chen Gong explain:

“President Han used to be a traveling peddler, going all over the country. To save money, he often went hungry, eating dry pancakes with cold water. That’s how he developed the habit of eating quickly. Plus, he exercises regularly, so his appetite is a bit larger than average.”

“Chef Qin, if you have time tomorrow, could you prepare more raw dough? Skilled pastry chefs like you are hard to find nowadays. President Han is usually busy and doesn’t have time to visit Hangzhou, so it’s not easy for him to enjoy good dim sum.”

“Oh, by the way—does your community cafeteria sell raw dough products? If so, we could arrange regular purchases. You wouldn’t need to worry about shipping—we have cold-chain logistics.”

Qin Huai: …

Chen Gong, as a personal assistant, was almost too professional.

Just tell me your annual salary so I can give up on the idea—otherwise, Qin Huai might actually grab a shovel on the spot and try to poach him as his own assistant.

Even though Qin Huai wasn’t a domineering CEO, didn’t have a company, and didn’t really need an assistant…

Still, who wouldn’t want an employee like Chen Gong?

Not only was he capable—his name was even auspicious.

“Our cafeteria… doesn’t sell raw dough products for now.”

If they did, Chef Xiao Qin would probably work himself to death in Yunzhong Cafeteria.

“But if President Han really needs it, I can try to set aside some every half month or month.”

“Our cafeteria business is quite good—we’re usually too busy to handle more.”

“Understood, understood. If you have availability, please contact me anytime. Thank you very much.”

After some brief pleasantries, Qin Huai began thinking about how to make the pickled vegetable dumplings.

To be honest—he had never made them before.

And frankly, they didn’t sound very appetizing.

The ingredients were cornmeal and pickled vegetables. Cornmeal had a rough texture, so to improve it, wheat flour had to be mixed in—but the exact ratio depended on the chef.

From observing how Han Guishan ate just now, Qin Huai could tell he had normal taste preferences. He knew what was good and what was better.

Not to mention, as someone in the soy sauce business, his sense of taste had to be quite refined.

This would be challenging.

Turning such a simple—even somewhat humble—dish into something delicious would not be easy.

Time to test his dough-making skills!

Qin Huai rolled up his sleeves, determined to show the client his true ability—so that next year’s birthday banquet would still come to him.

After all, Boss Han was very generous with money.

Making already luxurious dishes taste good wasn’t real skill.

Making ordinary, everyday food taste amazing—that was true mastery.

“President Han, just wait—you’re about to taste the best pickled vegetable dumplings you’ve ever had!”