AGN -Chapter 307 Did You Go to City A to Learn How to Make Mung Bean Cake?

Pei Xing and Li Hua, who didn’t understand mung bean cake at all, were busy eating the mashed mung beans with their heads down. As they ate, their minds raced to organize words, preparing to give a perfect tasting review when Qin Huai asked how it was.

Unfortunately, Qin Huai had no intention of asking that question.

Because there was someone even more exaggerated beside them—

An Youyou.

An Youyou was on the verge of becoming a devout believer in mashed mung beans.

Not only did she let out exclamations worthy of movie lines, but her expressions were also incredibly dramatic. Surprise, happiness, admiration, intoxication, even something like falling in love with the mung bean paste—all kinds of complex emotions flashed across her face. If she were the heroine of a food-themed film, this level of acting alone would have easily won her Best Newcomer of the Year.

She had already eaten five plates.

As a qualified office worker, An Youyou knew that tasting dishes wasn’t supposed to be done like this. But as someone with functioning taste buds and a love for mung bean cake, she felt that sometimes there was no need to overthink—just eat first.

Qin Huai watched her go through plate after plate. When she reached her sixth, he couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t you find it greasy?”

Although she had eaten many plates, each one only contained a small portion of mashed mung beans. They had just been stir-fried and were still loose and uncompressed. Six plates were nowhere near enough to fill someone with An Youyou’s appetite.

She was at an age where she was still growing—she could eat a lot.

But wouldn’t it get cloying?

No matter how unsweet Qin Huai made it, it was still a pastry—made with plenty of butter and sugar, rich in fat and sweetness.

“Not at all! It’s super delicious!” An Youyou exclaimed. “Chef Qin, your mung bean cake tastes way better than the ones sold outside!”

“There’s a bakery at the entrance of my residential complex that also sells mung bean cake by weight—25 yuan for half a jin. It’s cheap, but it tastes terrible.”

“That one feels greasy and heavy. When you bite into it, it’s powdery and rough in your mouth. After eating one piece, your mouth is full of crumbs—you have to rinse. The worst part is there’s barely any mung bean flavor at all. One bite and it’s just overwhelmingly sweet.”

Hearing this, Qin Huai could roughly guess how that bakery made their mung bean cake. Most likely, to cut costs, they used low-quality mung bean flour, powdered sugar, and vegetable oil. On top of that, poor technique and improper heat control during stir-frying made the already subpar product taste like a cheap mix of sugar and oil—probably diluted with a large amount of starch.

That’s how pastry-making is—skill matters, but ingredient quality matters even more. Good pastries require both good ingredients and good technique. If the ingredients are lacking, even the best chef can only end up like a clever housewife unable to cook without rice.

After hearing An Youyou’s feedback, Qin Huai felt reassured. She wasn’t a professional chef or food critic, but she was a working professional—and one on a tight budget.

His mung bean cake was made exactly for people like her:

Those with limited budgets, busy schedules, but who still want something affordable and delicious to ease the stress of a long workday.

“If you like it, don’t just eat the paste,” Qin Huai said with a smile. “Right now it’s just unshaped mung bean paste. Once it’s molded and chilled in the fridge for a while, it’ll have a different kind of flavor.”

“If you like it, take a portion home after work. I’ll tell Huang Xi later—starting today, every employee can take one portion of chilled mung bean cake from the fridge when they leave. Consider it an employee benefit.”

“Thank you, Boss—uh, Chef Qin!”

After finishing the mung bean paste, Qin Huai handed off the remaining work. Pressing into molds, demolding, and chilling the finished cakes were all tasks for the assistants.

Master Qin, highly skilled at assigning work, moved on to making Four-Joy Tangyuan.

At this point, someone might wonder—why is the preparation of Four-Joy Tangyuan scheduled before fermented rice buns and diced meat buns? Is it because tangyuan are more profitable?

No.

It’s because lunchtime was approaching.

The hungry diners of Yunzong Canteen could go without buns, but they absolutely couldn’t miss a hot bowl of Four-Joy Tangyuan.

The thoughtful Chef Xiao Qin made sure to prepare enough before noon, so the office workers—who had been working all morning and were relying on this one bowl to keep going—could successfully “recharge their lives.”

At the same time, it ensured that the elderly morning joggers who had been sitting in the canteen since 6 a.m., waiting eagerly all morning, could taste Chef Xiao Qin’s latest signature dessert.

That was how things had been the past few days.

Today, however, Xu Tuqiang, who had also arrived at 6 a.m. as usual, keenly sensed that something was off.

He noticed that the canteen staff seemed to be sneaking snacks—they were passing around mysterious green little cakes and secretly eating them.

Even Huang Xi was eating.

Xu Tuqiang glanced at the time.

11:32 a.m.

Sneaking snacks at this hour? Suspicious!

Pretending to be casual, he craned his neck to look toward the counter and saw the staff arranging mung bean cakes. Freshly demolded pieces were neatly placed on small plates—two sizes: smaller plates with four pieces, larger ones with six. Each piece was quite small—just right for kids, but not enough for adults.

Yunzong Canteen launched a kids’ snack again?

Xu Tuqiang was puzzled.

He knew how popular the previous radish cakes had been among children—his own grandson loved them so much that every weekend he insisted on sitting in the canteen, calling An Youyou “Radish Cake Sister.”

Recently, however, Qin Huai had gone to City A for catering work, leaving Li Hua in charge of seasoning. As a result, An Youyou’s fried radish cakes didn’t taste as good, and their popularity had dropped slightly.

Noticing Xu Tuqiang stretching his neck to look, Grandma Ding also glanced over and asked, “Do you like mung bean cake?”

As a former kindergarten principal, she recognized the small pastries immediately.

“I think Chef Xiao Qin made them,” Xu Tuqiang analyzed calmly.

From their seats, they could see into the kitchen—but not every detail. The dough station was close, but the stove was far away. Without staring intently, it was hard to tell what was being cooked.

The elderly regulars had long passed the stage of staring blatantly—they now just sat around chatting while waiting for food.

Hearing his analysis, Grandma Ding was surprised. “How do you figure?”

Lowering his voice, Xu Tuqiang replied, “I just saw Xiao Huang sneaking a bite.”

“Usually, it’s normal for staff to eat leftover pastries in the afternoon. But if she’s sneaking food at this hour, it must be really good. Ninety percent chance it’s made by Chef Xiao Qin,” he concluded.

Grandma Ding nodded in admiration. “Not bad, Xiao Xu—you’ve learned to analyze.”

Xu Tuqiang puffed up with pride. “Of course. You think I stopped using my brain after retiring?”

Not far away, Huang Xi, who had heard everything clearly: …

(With your voices and hearing, even whispering doesn’t help!)

Putting on a professional smile, Huang Xi walked over and announced:

“We have a new item today—mung bean cake! Chef Qin specially improved the recipe. Small portion: 10 yuan, large portion: 15 yuan. Feel free to try!”

The moment she finished speaking, everyone moved.

The elderly diners lined up instantly, as if driven by muscle memory. Whether they liked mung bean cake or not—at this moment, everyone loved it.

A specially improved recipe by Chef Xiao Qin? Of course they loved it!

Soon, everyone had a plate, enjoying it with hot tea.

Xu Tuqiang took a small bite, letting it melt in his mouth before sipping tea.

“This is life!” he sighed. “I always felt something was missing during tea time—turns out it was mung bean cake. Chef Xiao Qin is so thoughtful!”

Everyone: ?!

Since when did Old Xu get so good at flattering people?

Damn it, I lost.

Soon, Yunzong Canteen launched its new product—mung bean cake. This time, the new item was completely different from before. Word spread quickly among the diners that Chef Qin had painstakingly spent a long time refining the recipe, greatly improving the cake in terms of flavor, texture, and appearance.

As for why any new update from Yunzong Canteen spread so quickly among its customers…

Well, it was probably because there were so many group chats—group-order chats, foodie chats, and all kinds of smaller private groups.

The elderly regulars also loved taking photos. Poor photography skills? Didn’t matter. No sense of composition? Didn’t matter. No editing skills? Didn’t matter. As long as the pastries were real, that was enough.

In fact, bad photography only made the pastries look even more delicious.

What? You ask how they could tell something tasted good just from a picture?

Don’t ask. They just could.

As soon as it hit 12 o’clock, the canteen was packed with office workers coming for lunch and to buy mung bean cake.

Some even took five-minute leave just to come early and eat—such dedication to food was truly moving.

Whether they were eating regular meals or Four-Joy Tangyuan, every tray had a portion of mung bean cake. Each piece was small—melting in the mouth with a gentle press, lightly sweet without being cloying. Four pieces weren’t enough; six were just right.

And it was cheap.

At Yunzong Canteen, 10 yuan couldn’t even buy a single Four-Joy Tangyuan, but it could get you four pieces of such delicious mung bean cake—truly the king of cost performance.

This value-for-money attracted even those who weren’t particularly interested in mung bean cake. Some office workers who had already ordered takeout still made a special trip just to buy a portion and take it back to the office.

Qin Huai’s sales policy for mung bean cake was simple: plenty for everyone.

They sold 333 jin of mung bean cake daily, with no purchase limits. Buy as much as you want. After all, it doesn’t keep well—once you try it, you’ll know it’s best eaten fresh on the same day.

Zheng Siyuan arrived at the canteen at 1 p.m.

Dressed casually but neatly—casual shirt with a jacket—ready to change into his work uniform at any time.

When he arrived, the last batch of office workers were lining up to buy takeaway mung bean cake.

It had been a while since he showed up, and many regulars no longer recognized Chef Xiao Zheng.

He walked skillfully toward the changing room. As he passed the queue, he overheard two young women chatting excitedly.

“I seriously didn’t expect Chef Xiao Qin’s improved mung bean cake to be this good! I bought it the first time they sold it, and back then it was okay—but nowhere near this delicious! This time it’s unbelievably good! You have to believe me—it’s way better than before!!” One girl spoke so passionately she looked like she might swear an oath to heaven.

“I know, I never said it was bad. Look at you getting all worked up,” the other girl rolled her eyes. “When I was eating, I overheard some elderly people by the window saying Chef Xiao Qin went to City A recently specifically to learn how to make mung bean cake.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Last time he went to Gusu for so long—didn’t you notice how much better the diced meat buns and fermented rice buns tasted afterward? And don’t even get me started on the Four-Joy Tangyuan—just a bit expensive. Ugh, if only my boss gave me a 20% raise, I could eat tangyuan for half the month.”

“I think it’s enough if he just goes to City A. Going to Gusu for months is too much.”

“Totally agree!”

Zheng Siyuan, who had unconsciously stopped walking while listening: ?

Qin Huai went to City A to learn mung bean cake?

Who in City A specializes in mung bean cake?

Zang Mu? Zang Liang? Or Tong Deyan?

Those three were all traditional savory chefs… Could it be that Imperial Kitchen Workshop actually had a pastry chef skilled in mung bean cake?

That didn’t seem right.

With questions in mind, Zheng Siyuan changed clothes and walked into the kitchen.

(As a side note, he had his own changing room at Yunzong Canteen, with his uniform stored there.)

Inside the kitchen, Qin Huai was seasoning the filling for diced meat buns.

His technique was both elegant and highly skilled.

Zheng Siyuan had already seen from photos Qin Huai sent earlier that his filling preparation had undergone a qualitative leap during the New Year period. But seeing it in person—especially with a filling Zheng was very familiar with—he still couldn’t help but feel surprised.

He knew Qin Huai was abnormal, but he didn’t expect him to be this abnormal.

The improvement was astonishing. No wonder Tan Weian kept saying in the group chat that he wanted to beat Qin Huai up.

“You’re here,” Qin Huai said, unable to free his hands while mixing. He gestured with his eyes toward the mung bean cake left on the counter. “Mung bean cake—chilled. Though it hasn’t been refrigerated long enough, so the texture might not be at its best.”

“Are the ones outside sold chilled too?” Zheng Siyuan asked.

“Those are at room temperature,” Qin Huai replied. “The chilled ones will be sold in the afternoon.”

Zheng Siyuan washed his hands, picked up a piece, and took a bite.

Very few crumbs fell—meaning the cake was compact.

Yet it melted instantly in the mouth.

Excellent.

That was his first impression.

He savored it carefully.

Excellent texture. Excellent flavor. Lightly sweet but not bland. To bring such a common pastry to this level…

Did Qin Huai really go to City A to learn this?

Zheng Siyuan looked at him. “Did you learn this in the past few days?”

Qin Huai thought for a moment. “Sort of. Do you remember President Han’s assistant, Chen Gong?”

Zheng Siyuan nodded.

“Assistant Chen loves mung bean cake. He signed a long-term pastry purchase contract with me and gave me a recipe to follow.”

“I studied it a bit and found it quite good.”

“The recipe belongs to him, so I can’t share it with you. But if you want to learn, I can make it in front of you tomorrow. It’s simple—you should be able to understand.”

Zheng Siyuan nodded in satisfaction, not being polite at all. “Deal.”

“So what should I make now?”

“The remaining diced meat buns and fermented rice buns are yours. Also, help prepare some stock. Tomorrow morning we’ll make some Zou yarn wontons and bubble wontons.”

“I’ll make chicken noodle soup for you tomorrow.”

“I didn’t practice knife skills much these past few days, so this afternoon I’ll spend more time slicing radishes. No time to study the double crab buns today—we’ll start that together tomorrow. I’ll send you the recipe Old Master Wang gave me tonight. I’ve already asked him—he doesn’t mind.”

“Alright.”

Assistant Xiao Zheng listened to Chef Qin’s instructions, nodded, and got to work.