AGN -Chapter 305 Pricing

After watching the video tutorial once, Qin Huai messaged Chen Gong about what to prepare for the next day. But after sending the message, he kept replaying the tutorial over and over again, staying up all night and oversleeping as a result.

When Qin Huai woke up the next day and saw the time, his first thought was how lucky it was that his flight had been rescheduled to the evening—otherwise, he would have missed the morning flight entirely.

Chen Gong had arranged a parent-child kitchen very close to the hotel for Qin Huai. Qin Huai was quite familiar with such places—Chen Huihui’s school had previously held a parent-child cooking activity there, and Qin Huai had even completed his first side task in one.

Chen Gong had generously booked the entire place for Qin Huai—though it might also have been President Han Guishan footing the bill. After all, just as Qin Huai finished steaming and mashing the mung beans into paste, Han Guishan and Wang Jing arrived.

According to Han Guishan, they had just been handling some work nearby and happened to remember that Qin Huai was making mung bean cakes here today, so they dropped by to take a look.

Qin Huai smiled knowingly in response—President Han was truly busy, yet still managed to remember where he was making mung bean cakes.

Han Guishan and Wang Jing each grabbed a small stool, sat far from the cooking station, and waited obediently for food.

Qin Huai couldn’t help but admire how perfectly this couple timed their arrival.

The process of making mung bean cakes wasn’t difficult—one could even say it was very simple. Qin Huai’s method, which involved soaking peeled mung beans for six hours before steaming and mashing them, was already considered a relatively complex traditional approach. For most people at home, simply buying ready-made mung bean flour would suffice, skipping all the time-consuming steps.

After mashing the mung beans into paste, the next step was stir-frying. He added an appropriate amount of butter to the pan, letting it melt before frying the mung bean paste in it. From an ingredient standpoint, butter’s natural milky aroma made it more suitable than traditional vegetable oil for mung bean cakes.

From a historical perspective, however, using butter in this way would have been quite novel for that era.

Qin Huai focused intently on stir-frying. When the melted butter had fully blended into the mung bean paste and it began to release its distinctive fragrance, he added sugar.

The aroma in the kitchen grew richer and richer. The fresh scent of mung beans was now mixed with a sweet fragrance, making Han Guishan’s mouth water just from the smell.

He and Wang Jing really had just been nearby and came over on a whim after remembering Qin Huai was making mung bean cakes.

Of course, it would be even better if they could get a taste.

Han Guishan himself wasn’t particularly fond of mung bean cakes—it was Wang Jing who loved them. She preferred ones that weren’t too sweet, especially after chilling them in the refrigerator for a few hours.

As she put it, chilled mung bean cakes had a better texture—the cool, sandy consistency melting on the tongue felt almost like eating ice cream.

Han Guishan didn’t quite understand this.

He felt that the mung bean cakes Wang Jing bought were all tiny, so delicate that they might crumble if you pinched them too hard. Aside from their mild mung bean flavor and refreshing taste, they didn’t seem particularly special. Sure, chilled ones tasted slightly better, but only slightly.

Not to mention that Wang Jing liked ones that weren’t very sweet, making them feel somewhat bland. They were fine as a casual snack from the fridge, but as a proper dessert, they felt a bit dull.

But now, Han Guishan was beginning to understand.

It smelled amazing—this rich mung bean aroma was incredible!

Just smelling it made him feel like it would taste delicious.

“Jingjing, are mung bean cakes like egg tarts—best when freshly baked? So they shouldn’t be chilled but eaten hot right after being made?” Han Guishan asked.

The question stumped Wang Jing.

Back when she worked as a waitress at a state-owned restaurant, she mainly served dishes rather than made them. The restaurant didn’t sell many desserts either—mostly buns and steamed bread—so she didn’t know much about how mung bean cakes were made.

Wang Jing was led astray by Han Guishan’s reasoning.

“So that’s how it is,” she said, suddenly enlightened. “Looks like we shouldn’t refrigerate mung bean cakes anymore—we should eat them fresh and hot.”

The couple both felt they had reached a realization. Sitting on their stools, they continued waiting eagerly, their eyes fixed on the pan where the mung bean paste was still being stir-fried.

Qin Huai, who was doing the stir-frying: …

Were President Han and his wife… hungry?

That didn’t seem right. Hadn’t there been plenty of si xi tangyuan, san ding bao, and fermented rice buns prepared yesterday? Could it be they were too busy to have breakfast?

That must be it. As expected, people with “President” in their title never had it easy.

After finishing the stir-frying, it was time to shape the mung bean paste using molds, pressing and then releasing them.

Because butter had been used during frying, there was no need to grease the molds—they released easily.

The parent-child kitchen had molds ready, so Qin Huai went to get them.

Seeing this, Han Guishan couldn’t sit still anymore. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward and asked, “Chef Qin, can we eat the mung bean cakes while they’re still hot?”

Qin Huai: ?

Eat mung bean cakes hot?

What a niche concept—what a strange thing to hear.

Qin Huai paused, but seeing how eager Han Guishan was, and considering his usual eating habits, he nodded. “In theory, yes. But normally, mung bean cakes are eaten after being molded.”

“I’d actually recommend chilling them in the fridge for a while after molding—the texture will be better.”

Otherwise, what you’re eating isn’t really mung bean cake—it’s just mung bean paste.

Han Guishan blinked. “Aren’t mung bean cakes meant to be eaten hot?”

Qin Huai: “…If that’s your preference, you can eat them hot. Just be careful—they’re quite hot right after frying.”

Seeing Han Guishan still hesitating, Qin Huai simply took out two small plates and scooped some mung bean paste for both him and Wang Jing. He spread it out deliberately to help it cool faster.

Han Guishan carried the plates back, and the two began eating.

“Jingjing, Chef Qin said the freshly fried paste is quite hot, so we should be careful. Also, he mentioned mung bean cakes should be chilled—”

Wang Jing ignored him completely and focused on eating, savoring every bite.

“Mmm… although it’s a bit hot, this flavor… this rich mung bean taste, this fine yet sandy texture, this warm feeling in the mouth—this is exactly the kind of mung bean cake I’ve always wanted! Not too sweet but not bland either, rich in mung bean flavor yet still slightly sweet!”

Han Guishan swallowed the rest of his words and started devouring his portion.

Just one bite.

Han Guishan: !

Mung bean cakes can actually taste this good?!

Eat, eat, eat!

When Chen Gong arrived at the parent-child kitchen, this was the scene he saw:

The respected President Han Guishan was hunched over, wolfing down a plate of green, paste-like substance.

The dignified President Wang Jing was elegantly savoring a plate of the same green paste.

And Qin Huai—the man who had helped him awaken and was now his closest friend—was standing by the stove, expressionless, stir-frying more mung bean paste while occasionally glancing at the couple with a puzzled look.

Wait… stir-fried mung bean paste?

Were President Han and President Wang eating unmolded mung bean paste?

Then why weren’t they eating the already molded mung bean cakes over by the molds?

Chen Gong had question marks in his mind too, but kept a calm expression.

Seeing Chen Gong arrive, Han Guishan happily invited him to sit, telling him that the freshly fried mung bean paste was especially fragrant and that he absolutely had to try it—they had already eaten several plates.

Chen Gong: …

Ever since waking up, Chen Gong’s loyalty to Han Guishan hadn’t diminished, but his blind admiration certainly had.

He silently went to grab a plate and took the opportunity to chat quietly with Qin Huai.

“President Han is usually actually quite…” Chen Gong tried to defend him.

“Just now, I suspected President Han might be some kind of food-loving spirit,” Qin Huai said expressionlessly. “So I asked him a question.”

“What question?”

“I asked him if he had any other wishes.”

“I know it’s a bit abrupt, but I also know President Han is a straightforward person—he doesn’t nitpick wording in daily conversation. So after hesitating for a bit, I still asked.”

“And then?” Chen Gong couldn’t help but grow curious.

“President Han said he wants another plate.”

Chen Gong: …

After thinking for a moment, Chen Gong could only continue explaining: “President Han is just like that… carefree and not fussy about details. His personality is actually very good—many of his business partners find him straightforward, generous, and not scheming, so they’re very willing to work with him. And his professional ability is strong too; he rarely has issues at work. That’s why Good Taste has been able to grow bigger and stronger over the years.”

Qin Huai sighed. “I know. I also admit President Han is a very good person.”

“I’m just a bit disappointed he’s not a spirit. If he were, his task would definitely be very easy to complete.”

Chen Gong smiled. “I don’t think you need to be bound by the task.”

“Not every game needs a perfect clear, and you don’t have to collect all twelve entries. Everyone’s life is their own choice, and every spirit’s failure is also their own choice—you don’t need to carry that burden.”

“Even if one day you encounter a spirit like Mr. Luo—someone you truly can’t help—and their situation is even worse, already in their final life and destined for failure, that would still be their own choice. You can’t be blamed for it.”

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

“I know.” Qin Huai nodded. “Chen Huihong and Qu Jing have told me the same thing.”

As he spoke, another batch of freshly cooked mung bean paste came out of the pan.

Qin Huai took the plate from Chen Gong and scooped some for him. “It’s very hot right now—eat it later.”

“Although I don’t understand why President Han and President Wang both insist on eating it right after it’s cooked, I did try a bite just now.”

“It’s actually pretty good.”

“But for the ones that have already been molded into proper mung bean cakes, I still recommend refrigerating them—the texture is better when chilled.”

“By the way, where did you get this batch of mung beans? The quality is really good. Can you get me some and send them to Shanshi?”

Chen Gong smiled slightly. “Of course. If you need them, I can arrange it for you—bulk supply.”

“Peeled mung beans, every single one cleanly dehulled.”

…

That afternoon, Qin Huai spent the entire time in the parent-child kitchen making B-grade mung bean cakes and practiced cutting radishes for half an hour. Since Chen Gong had prepared an enormous amount of ingredients, there were still mung beans left even when Qin Huai left the kitchen.

But nothing would go to waste. According to Chen Gong, the remaining mung beans would be turned into mung bean soup for the company cafeteria the next day.

One more thing—only after the mung bean cakes were molded into proper shapes did they display a grade. The freshly stir-fried mung bean paste didn’t show any grade.

Clearly, the game system did not recognize plain mung bean paste as mung bean cake.

But it didn’t matter much. Qin Huai didn’t yet have the skill to make A-grade mung bean cakes—after an entire afternoon, everything he made was only B-grade, not even B+. Without any buffs, whether eating mung bean cake or mung bean paste made little difference.

And Han Guishan and Wang Jing didn’t lack confidence over something like that.

Since his flight had been rescheduled to the evening, by the time Qin Huai landed in Shanshi, it was already past midnight.

Chef Xiao Qin, who had gone on a two-day business trip, returned once again like a flash of lightning.

And the person picking him up was still his good brother, Ou Yang.

Only this time, Ou Yang had left late and was still on the way, so Qin Huai had to wait at the airport with his luggage.

With nothing else to do, Qin Huai decided to check his main quest.

The progress was looking very promising.

The requirement was to have five dishes with a daily positive rating of no less than 98%, and at least 1,000 customers considering each dish the best they had ever eaten. So far, Qin Huai had already completed four:

Tangerine peel tea, fermented rice buns, premium san ding bao, and four-joy tangyuan.

Originally, Qin Huai had planned to choose between longevity noodles and apple pastry to complete the task.

Now, he decided to switch to something new.

Mung bean cake.

From the afternoon’s cooking process, Qin Huai realized that although he didn’t feel he had changed much in how he made it—and hadn’t learned any special tricks or advanced techniques from the “question-mark” video tutorial—the mung bean cakes he made were indeed tastier than before.

To be precise, much tastier.

Mung bean cake is a very common, simple, and inexpensive dessert. Its cost, difficulty, and output volume determine that it can’t be priced too high.

Not to brag, but although the recipe allows for 666 portions per day, each not exceeding half a jin—about 333 jin total—it might sound like a lot. But in reality, Qin Huai could easily make 333 jin of mung bean cakes in a single day without much effort.

Because it’s just that simple—and that scalable.

Compared to longevity noodles or apple pastries, it’s more suitable for completing the task because it’s more accessible and affordable.

If each portion is 100 grams and priced at 50 yuan, no matter how delicate, beautiful, or even B-grade it is, it’s just “tasty.”

At 30 yuan, it’s “delicious.”

At 20 yuan, it’s “god-tier.”

At 15 yuan, it’s “god among gods.”

Even slightly reducing the portion—from 100 grams to 80 or 60—wouldn’t change that.

Qin Huai didn’t plan to sell mung bean cakes at a high price. Pricing them at 15–20 yuan per 80 grams would be enough.

Yunzhong Cafeteria already had high-profit desserts. There was no need to turn something that could be cheap into an expensive item—even if it was B-grade, even if it could easily outperform 99.9% of mung bean cakes on the market.

In Qin Luo’s childhood, mung bean cakes were something you could buy for two yuan right outside the school gate—an affordable, tasty snack.

Two mung bean cakes could give Qin Luo a good mood after a long day at school, letting him skip home happily to do his homework.

Qin Huai felt that Yunzhong Cafeteria could do the same—use two mung bean cakes to give office workers a good mood after a long day, letting them hum a tune on their way home on the subway.

Just as he was thinking this, Ou Yang arrived.

“Qin Huai, Qin Huai! Over here! What are you thinking about?” Ou Yang waved frantically.

“Thinking about dessert pricing,” Qin Huai replied.

“You learned a new dessert again?” Ou Yang was shocked. “Weren’t you on a business trip cooking a birthday banquet for someone? When did you have time to learn something new?!”

“Not new—mung bean cake.”

“Planning to put it on the regular menu tomorrow. Come by and try it when you have time. How’s your lemon tea business lately?”

“Do you even need to ask? It’s booming with customers! See these muscles on my arms? All from mixing drinks! I don’t even need the gym anymore.”

“…You get muscle definition from mixing drinks?”

“Okay, fine—I did secretly go to the gym a bit.”

“No choice, the drinks taste too good. I keep sneaking sips while mixing them—I gained a full 6 jin in just one week.”

Qin Huai: …

Bro, you’re drinking your own shop’s drinks too?

Of course you are.