AGN -Chapter 300 Souvenirs

As Han Guishan’s late-in-life son, little Han Youxin’s birthday was naturally celebrated in grand style.

From a little after 10 a.m., guests began arriving one after another. Han Guishan and Wang Jing no longer had the chance to sneak into the kitchen to grab a bite. The banquet hall of Yushanfang was bustling with noise, and the kitchen was just as busy.

As the mealtime approached, the atmosphere in the kitchen grew increasingly tense. There was hardly a trace of a pleasant expression left on Tong Deyan’s face. His disdain for the helpers at Yushanfang was practically spilling over, and his sharp tongue—like it had been dipped in poison—kept firing off insults that rivaled biochemical weapons.

“Didn’t I tell you to carve a radish flower? What is this supposed to be? A big red flower for kindergarten kids? Should I pour some ketchup on it to give it color? This is a child’s birthday banquet, but that doesn’t mean you turn the garnish into baby food! Is Yushanfang a daycare restaurant now?”

“And you—if you’re going to curse me behind my back by the shelves, at least open your eyes and look at what you’re holding. Is that what I asked for?”

“And you—out of the four insults you threw at me, three were repeats. Your vocabulary is as poor as your knife skills.”

“Timing, timing, timing! How many times have I stressed this? If you spent even two seconds watching the clock instead of rolling your eyes at me, this sauce wouldn’t have turned out so terrible!”

Qin Huai stood nearby, dumbfounded.

He felt that Tong Deyan and Luo Jun would definitely have a lot in common. If the two ever met, they might even collaborate on a book—100 Techniques for Insulting People.

No wonder Tong Deyan had such a bad reputation in the industry.

When he worked, his temper was truly explosive, and his vocabulary… impressively rich.

The most important thing was that his hearing was surprisingly good. Even helpers standing far away couldn’t curse him without being caught.

“Has Chef Tong… always been like this all these years?” Qin Huai whispered to Zang Liang while wrapping Four-Joy Tangyuan, careful not to speak too loudly.

Zang Liang covered his mouth and whispered back, “I haven’t actually met him before, but I’ve heard about him. Apparently, he curses even worse in his own restaurant.”

“He and Master Xia from Fenyuan are known as the ‘Twin Scolders of Beiping.’ I haven’t met Master Xia either, but they say he’s even harsher. Chef Tong only scolds you if you make mistakes while working with him. Master Xia is different—if he runs into you, even if you try to avoid him from afar, he’ll chase you down just to scold you.”

Qin Huai was stunned.

“Is Master Xia the famous chef from Fenyuan who ranks in the top ten of the Master Chef List?”

Zang Liang nodded. “Yes. He’s the only active Chinese cuisine chef in the top ten. He’s old and highly respected—if he scolds you, you just stand there and take it.”

“But I’ve heard that only chefs with decent skills are qualified to be scolded by him. So a lot of chefs are actually happy the first time they get scolded by Master Xia.”

Qin Huai: …

Sometimes he really couldn’t understand these savory-dish chefs.

You people are a little… strange.

Wait, why did he say you people?

Not far away, Tong Deyan glanced at Qin Huai and Zang Liang but said nothing, continuing to berate a helper who had messed up the timing.

As the serving time drew closer, Tong Deyan’s temper grew even worse. Meanwhile, in the banquet hall, all the guests had already taken their seats.

Among them was someone Qin Huai knew—Xu Cheng.

Ever since Xu Cheng had tried to test how many kinds of pastries Qin Huai could make—only to nearly get stuck in Gusu and then flee halfway through—he hadn’t seen Qin Huai again.

Xu Cheng had spent some time abroad enjoying good food and had even put on a bit of weight.

As Han Guishan’s friend and the wealthiest guest present, Xu Cheng naturally sat at the main table with Han Guishan, Wang Jing, and Han Guishan’s two sisters.

Xu Cheng had children of his own, though they were long past early childhood. With nothing to do before the meal, he held little Han Youxin and teased him, then casually asked, “Old Han, Tong Deyan is the head chef for today’s banquet—but who’s handling the pastries? Qin Huai, or those chefs from Zhiweiju I recommended?”

“Chef Qin!” Han Guishan said, glowing with excitement after two days of desserts. “This Chef Qin you recommended is incredible. His skills are unbelievable—I’ve never eaten pastries this good in my life!”

Xu Cheng was surprised. “Did he make guo’er? Did Master Huang come too?”

“What Master Huang?” Han Guishan didn’t understand. “Today’s dishes are fermented rice buns, three-diced buns, Four-Joy Tangyuan, and longevity noodles. That Four-Joy Tangyuan is absolutely amazing—I’ve never had tangyuan that good in my life!”

“I ate twelve of them last night—so full I almost couldn’t sleep. Jingjing even scolded me.”

Wang Jing rolled her eyes. “You only left me one bun—who else should I scold?”

Hearing this, Han Guishan’s two sisters grew curious about the Four-Joy Tangyuan. Having just become a devoted fan, Han Guishan launched into an enthusiastic explanation. Whenever he forgot something, he shot Chen Gong a look, and Chen Gong would continue the explanation—more professionally.

The two sisters listened, wide-eyed, and decided to eat less during the meal to save room for the legendary tangyuan.

Seeing Han Guishan so excited, Xu Cheng grew a bit confused. He wondered if he had lost part of his memory while enjoying food abroad.

Since when did Qin Huai know how to make Four-Joy Tangyuan?

Qin Huai’s skills were good—especially considering his age and experience, he could be called a prodigy. But in terms of overall ability, he wasn’t that outstanding yet. His skills were uneven, and even his best item, guo’er, required assistance from a master of savory dishes.

Xu Cheng believed Qin Huai would eventually reach the top of the pastry world and break records on the Master Chef List—but not yet.

If he had to choose right now—excluding guo’er—Xu Cheng would rather spend a few days eating at Zhiweiju.

Zhiweiju had more chefs and more variety, and their masters were overall stronger than Qin Huai.

So now the question was: where did this Four-Joy Tangyuan come from? When did Qin Huai learn it? And since when did Han Guishan love tangyuan this much?

Xu Cheng even began considering whether, after the banquet, he should recommend a pastry chef who specialized in tangyuan to broaden his friend’s horizons.

With that thought, he started mentally reviewing the pastry chefs he knew.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, as the cold dishes were served, Qin Huai and Zang Liang’s conversation drifted further off-topic.

With nothing else to do, they began talking about this year’s opening issue of Zhiwei magazine. Zang Liang was already daydreaming about the future.

“If only one of my dishes could make it onto the opening issue of Zhiwei,” Zang Liang said longingly. “If that happened, I’d call my parents and have them hang banners all the way from our village to the town. When I go home for the New Year, there’d be drums, gongs, firecrackers—and I’d host a three-day feast myself so everyone in the surrounding villages could taste my cooking!”

Qin Huai, speaking from experience, sincerely advised, “You’d work yourself to death.”

He meant it.

As a pastry chef capable of mass production, Qin Huai had nearly exhausted himself during the New Year. Zang Liang, on the other hand, was a savory chef specializing in Huaiyang cuisine.

All Qin Huai could say was that Zang Liang clearly had no idea how much villagers could eat.

Zang Liang shot Qin Huai a jealous look. “You’re full—you don’t know the hunger of the starving. You’ve already been featured in Zhiwei, of course it means nothing to you. For me, even if my name appeared just once, I’d screenshot it and post it on social media ten times a day.”

“Sigh, when my master got featured last time, why didn’t he think of bringing me along? At least let my name ride along with his!”

Qin Huai: …

You really are a worthy disciple of Zang Mu.

“You’re still young—you’ll definitely make it onto Zhiwei again someday. Honestly, life’s unfair—some people have too much, while others have nothing.”

“I honestly don’t want to be featured in Zhiwei again,” Qin Huai said. “Back in January, Huangji’s business got so good it actually scared me. I felt like I was practically living in the shop every day. Business is already great as it is—if it happens again, I really can’t handle it.”

Zang Liang: …

Zang Liang didn’t say anything. He simply took out his phone and sent a message to Tan Weian.

Zang Liang: You were right—Qin Huai is really good at humblebragging. I’m starting to feel like punching him.

Tan Weian replied instantly: Always.

Just as Zang Liang was about to say more, Qin Huai set down the Four-Joy Tangyuan he had just wrapped and switched straight into work mode.

“Time’s up. Zang Liang, go check if any pots are free. I’m going to start rolling the dough for the longevity noodles.”

“Also, keep an eye on the time. Start cooking the Four-Joy Tangyuan in 25 minutes. The four types go into four separate pots, and each has a different cooking time. I’ve sent you the details on WeChat.”

Seeing Qin Huai switch modes so instantly left Zang Liang stunned. He reflexively got to work and asked, “When did you even check the time?”

“By feel,” Qin Huai replied. “Did you forget? I started out selling breakfast. Morning service is a race against time—if the buns come out late, students are late for school. There’s no room for delay.”

Zang Liang instantly felt a deep respect for breakfast vendors.

Not far away, Tong Deyan pointed at Qin Huai. “Look at him—chatting is chatting, but he doesn’t delay his work at all. And you?”

“Hmph.”

Facts proved that Qin Huai’s timing was indeed impeccable.

The longevity noodles were the first white-dough dish served. When the servers brought out one bowl per person, many guests smiled and remarked that President Han really knew how to create a sense of ceremony. His son was only two years old and might not even properly eat noodles yet, but the birthday banquet still included longevity noodles for everyone.

The noodles had been allowed to cool slightly in the kitchen before being served, reaching a comfortable temperature.

Warm, simmered in chicken broth, and paired with very simple toppings, the longevity noodles still carried a rich aroma.

The broth itself was fragrant.

Each bowl contained a single long, hand-pulled noodle coiled neatly inside. It looked springy, symbolic, and thoughtfully prepared.

Guests who were nearly full but wanted a bit of staple food at the end were pleasantly surprised. Picking up the noodles with chopsticks, they realized this wasn’t the kind of “longevity noodle” some restaurants casually serve—ordinary noodles under a fancy name.

“This really is one single noodle in the whole bowl! Haven’t had such authentic longevity noodles in ages.”

Someone nearby laughed. “Who eats longevity noodles casually anyway? President Han specially invited chefs from Beiping—the noodle chef must have been specially hired too. You think this is the same as your usual noodles?”

The man chuckled and said nothing more, eagerly stuffing the noodles into his mouth, slurping them down.

He couldn’t stop.

When you’re actually eating a bowl like this, whether for the symbolism or something else, it’s hard to bite the noodle in one go. Instead, you keep slurping it in, chewing as you go.

The portion wasn’t particularly large. Since it was a banquet, Qin Huai made each serving long enough for symbolism but relatively thin, reducing the overall quantity.

Fast eaters had already finished their bowls.

“These noodles are really good—delicious and chewy! Where did President Han find this chef? Which restaurant? Could it be Zhiweiju?”

“That’s actually possible. Isn’t Xu Cheng sitting at the main table? If he made the introduction, Zhiweiju might have given face.”

“Is it really that good? Let me try.”

“Slurp, slurp.”

For a while, the entire banquet hall was filled with the sounds of people eating noodles and gulping down broth.

At the main table, Wang Jing—being a good mother and having already tasted the noodles earlier—didn’t eat first. Instead, she picked up the specially made mini version for Han Youxin. It had the same length but a smaller portion. She blew on it, checked the temperature, and fed it to her son.

“Come on, Youxin, open your mouth. Let’s eat noodles,” she said gently.

As the birthday boy, Han Youxin hadn’t eaten much earlier.

He was too young to eat many dishes, so Wang Jing and Han Guishan only let him taste a little.

Then they themselves ate heartily.

Still not full, and enticed by the aroma of the noodles, Han Youxin eagerly opened his mouth wide, even making an “ah” sound.

Wang Jing fed him the noodles.

With his not-yet-complete set of teeth, Han Youxin chewed happily, biting off a small piece. After swallowing, he immediately opened his mouth again, urging his mother to feed him faster.

Wang Jing wasn’t very practiced at feeding him—usually the nanny handled it—so she wasn’t fast enough. This made Han Youxin so anxious he almost wanted to grab the bowl and chopsticks himself.

Meanwhile, his two aunts were devouring their noodles at full speed.

If Qin Huai had seen how Han Guishan’s sisters were eating, he would have remarked that everyone in the Han family ate exactly the same way.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have Han Guishan’s appetite. After finishing one bowl, they were full.

The sisters were stunned.

The younger one asked blankly, “Sis… I think I’m full. What do I do if I don’t have room for the Four-Joy Tangyuan later?”

“I’m full too.”

Both of them looked lost.

Hearing their concern, Han Guishan spoke between bites, “It’s fine. I asked Chef Qin to make extra raw Four-Joy Tangyuan. I’ll give you some to take home—you can cook them yourself.”

That reassured them.

But clearly, they relaxed too soon.

Because the next dishes arrived.

More precisely, two dishes arrived at once—fermented rice buns and three-diced buns.

In the kitchen, Zang Liang watched the four pots of Four-Joy Tangyuan, waiting for the right moment to scoop them out, portion them, and let them cool.

“Qin Huai, I’ve actually always had a question—why is the Four-Joy Tangyuan served last?”

“Normally, after eating longevity noodles, plus these buns, people should already be full. Can they still eat another serving of tangyuan?”

“It wasn’t originally last,” Qin Huai said helplessly.

“It was supposed to be served first. But after President Han tried it yesterday, he loved it so much he insisted it be the final dish.”

“His exact words were: ‘Ending a birthday banquet with a bowl of Four-Joy Tangyuan makes the meal truly complete.’”

“But don’t worry. The tangyuan is served per person, and Assistant Chen prepared plenty of takeaway boxes. If people can’t finish, they can pack it up.”

“Everyone also gets a portion of uncooked tangyuan as a gift—consider it a takeaway souvenir from the birthday banquet.”