AGN -Chapter 340 Stir-Fried Chinese Yam

Over the next few days, Zang Liang still couldn’t quite find the right feeling.

However, Qin Huai didn’t think it was a big problem. Although Zang Liang hadn’t found that feeling yet, it was undeniable that he was very talented. His “not finding the feeling” was different from Tan Wei’an’s.

Tan Wei’an truly didn’t have it, while Zang Liang, at the very least, was constantly improving. The crab roe sauce he thickened was gradually moving closer to the kind of sauce both Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan wanted.

It was just that Zang Liang himself hadn’t realized it.

Qin Huai and Zheng Siyuan also tacitly chose not to tell him. As someone who relied on intuition, Qin Huai understood very well that “feeling” was often something you couldn’t consciously perceive.

Many times, you think you haven’t found the feeling, but in reality, you’ve already brushed against its edge.

Qin Congwen: Huaihuai, your grandfather heard you’re going back today. He specially asked someone to bring two live free-range chickens into the city. Take them with you when you visit Master Cao—don’t go empty-handed.

Qin Huai: Got it, Dad. Don’t worry, I understand. I won’t go empty-handed—I’ve brought plenty of pastry dough.

After replying to the message on the plane, Qin Huai turned on airplane mode and subconsciously glanced at the seat beside him.

It was empty.

Sigh… a bit disappointing.

Ever since that chance encounter with Chen Gong on a previous flight, Qin Huai would always secretly hope that the person sitting next to him would be some unfamiliar but extraordinary figure—someone he’d hit it off with, exchange contacts, and then trigger some kind of system mission, like a plot development forced in by an author running out of ideas.

Unfortunately, every time afterward, the seat next to him had been empty.

It seemed airline business really wasn’t doing well these days—even first class couldn’t sell out.

Qin Huai had booked a 2 PM flight. He originally wanted an earlier one—depart earlier, arrive earlier. He would be staying at Cao Guixiang’s house for the next few days and didn’t want to arrive too late and disturb her and Zhang Chu.

But Cao Guixiang didn’t mind. She specifically told him not to book a morning flight, so he wouldn’t have to wake up too early and rush. A noon flight was perfect—he’d land just in time for dinner.

So Qin Huai followed her advice. Instead of rushing to the airport early, he got up early to make pastries.

He made a huge batch of raw dough for San Ding buns, Four Happiness tangyuan, and fermented rice mantou—enough to fill two suitcases, even exceeding the luggage weight limit.

It was easy to imagine that Zhang Zhiyun and Chang Qingqing would have very rich breakfasts for the next two weeks.

With nothing to do on the plane—and no one sitting beside him to think he was crazy for tapping at empty air—Qin Huai opened the game interface and watched the video tutorial for glutinous rice cakes.

Over the past few days, he had made quite a few, but all of them were only B or B- grade—not even a B+.

He had asked Zheng Siyuan why his rice cakes were worse than his other pastries. Zheng Siyuan explained that Qin Huai wasn’t familiar with rice cake-type pastries. These relied heavily on repetition and practice rather than advanced technique or fancy presentation.

Even glutinous rice cakes, which were considered relatively decorative, were just coated with a layer of sugar powder.

Since Qin Huai had little experience with them, it was only natural he wasn’t as good.

Qin Huai agreed with that reasoning—but he also felt that the real issue was that he hadn’t found the right “feeling” when making them.

He had watched the tutorial many times, mostly on planes like this one. In terms of movements, methods, and handling, he could replicate everything perfectly.

And yet, he lacked that smooth, flowing grace the person in the video had.

After watching it eight or nine times, Qin Huai became more convinced that what his rice cakes lacked was that effortless fluidity.

But how could he achieve that?

Was it just a matter of insufficient practice? Or was that fluidity, like Cao Guixiang’s thickening technique, actually a kind of skill he hadn’t yet fully grasped?

“Didn’t expect making glutinous rice cakes to be such a technical task…” Qin Huai muttered.

Hearing him, a flight attendant quickly approached, thinking the passenger—who had been staring blankly into space since boarding—wanted something.

“Hello, would you like something to drink?”

“Cola, with ice, please,” Qin Huai said, closing the game panel.

He gulped down the iced cola while replaying the tutorial in his mind, trying to figure out what he was missing.

After all that thinking, he reached no conclusion.

The only conclusion he came to was that there wasn’t enough ice—the cola wasn’t cold enough.

By the time the plane landed, Qin Huai still hadn’t figured out the secret to achieving that smooth, flowing technique.

Someone was there to pick him up at the airport.

Not Cao Guixiang or Zhang Chu—but the village party secretary’s grandson, sent by Qin Huai’s grandfather to deliver the chickens.

Two plump, lively free-range chickens were tied up in a cardboard box in the car trunk, clucking energetically. Just by looking at their feathers, you could tell they were well-raised—perfect for making rich chicken soup.

There was no way Qin Huai’s grandparents had raised them themselves. Most likely, they’d been sourced from a skilled chicken farmer in the village.

“Qin Huai, these two chickens are from your grandfather. And that box is two crates of eggs from my grandpa. Give me your luggage—where are you going? I’ll drive you there.”

The secretary’s grandson was a sturdy man, about 1.8 meters tall and 90 kilos, working at a construction site—apparently even a small supervisor. His car looked dusty from years of hauling goods.

He even laid down cloth in the trunk to keep Qin Huai’s suitcases clean.

Qin Huai gave him Cao Guixiang’s address, and they set off.

The ride was quiet. Only when they were about to arrive did the man ask hesitantly:

“Um… Qin Huai, when are you coming back for the New Year this year?”

“I don’t mean anything else… it’s just—my grandpa bought two new big refrigerators. The kind that can hold a lot!”

Qin Huai immediately understood and smiled. “Same as usual—back before New Year’s Eve, leaving after the Lantern Festival.”

“Good, good!” The man grinned widely, already imagining two full weeks of pastries.

When they arrived, Qin Huai took his suitcases, while the man carried the chickens and eggs.

But before they even walked far, they ran into Cao Guixiang and Zhang Chu waiting downstairs.

With just one glance from Cao Guixiang, Zhang Chu stepped forward and grabbed a suitcase, intending to lift it easily—only to realize it was incredibly heavy.

He was shocked. What on earth had Qin Huai packed? It couldn’t be dumbbells, could it?

Seeing he only took one suitcase, Cao Guixiang signaled for him to take the other as well. After all, their building had no elevator, and they lived on the third floor—Qin Huai couldn’t be expected to carry them himself.

Zhang Chu gritted his teeth and hoisted the second suitcase.

Qin Huai couldn’t help but laugh. “Grandpa Zhang, I’ll carry that one—it’s heavier. It’s full of pastry dough.”

The moment Zhang Chu heard that, he suddenly felt invigorated. No more back pain, no more fatigue—he felt like he was 18 again, full of strength.

“No problem! Don’t underestimate me, Xiao Qin! Back in my day, I could haul three to four hundred jin of timber!”

And then he proceeded to huff and puff as he carried the suitcases upstairs.

Qin Huai: …

Cao Guixiang waved her hand with a smile. “Ignore him. Let him move around more—he sits still fishing all day, it’s about time he got some exercise.”

At the back of the group, silently carrying the chickens—with the rope already snapped, forcing him to hold the box of chickens and eggs with one hand while pressing down on the escaping chicken with the other—the village secretary’s grandson thought:

…So no one cares about me? Doesn’t anyone feel sorry for me?

Walking ahead with Qin Huai, Cao Guixiang said with a smile, “I originally planned to cook you something special today, but your Grandpa Zhang messed up—the Lusong yellow croaker he ordered arrived a day late. Since I haven’t shown you how to make stock yet, we’ll just eat something simple tonight. I’ve made a few home-style dishes: braised sea cucumber with scallions, pork belly with preserved vegetables, firewood duck, and stir-fried Chinese yam.”

“The yam isn’t cooked yet. Later, come into the kitchen and help me. The other day when you thickened the sauce for the yam, there were some minor issues. Watch me do it once and see if you can spot what went wrong.”

Just hearing the names of the dishes made Qin Huai’s mouth water. He was extremely glad he hadn’t eaten airplane food—only drank two glasses of iced cola. He nodded eagerly.

“Okay, Master Cao. Are we starting tonight—”

“Tonight is just a small test run. Mainly because I need to make stock tonight, and you’ve been on a plane all day—you must be tired. There’s no point practicing thickening techniques when you’re not in good condition. Tonight, just casually practice your knife skills. Did you train today?”

“I practiced for twenty minutes this morning.”

“That’s not enough. While I’m making stock tonight, you can stand next to me and slice radishes. Your Grandpa Zhang already bought them for you.”

They reached the third floor and entered the apartment. Zhang Chu and the secretary’s grandson followed behind.

But as soon as the grandson stepped inside, one of the hens broke free and flew out of the box. Cao Guixiang reacted instantly, catching it mid-air with impressive skill.

The grandson stood there, stunned, his mouth hanging open.

At this time of year, the temperature in Guangdong was already quite high. Worried the pastries would spoil in the suitcase, Qin Huai immediately dragged them into the kitchen and began stuffing them into the fridge.

He didn’t forget to hand two bags to the secretary’s grandson.

The grandson: !!!

Family, this is happiness falling from the sky! Next time there’s another job delivering chickens, please call me again!

Since Qin Huai had brought too many pastries, Cao Guixiang’s fridge couldn’t hold them all. One entire suitcase had to be stored in the neighbor’s fridge.

Watching Zhang Chu casually go next door to borrow fridge space, Qin Huai could tell this wasn’t the first time.

The pork belly, duck, and sea cucumber dishes were already finished. Judging by their condition, Cao Guixiang had timed everything perfectly—cooked them, then gone downstairs to wait for Qin Huai.

Only the stir-fried yam remained.

“Xiao Qin, come help me in the kitchen,” Cao Guixiang said cheerfully, handing him a brown apron.

Qin Huai skillfully tied it on and went in to slice the yam.

The yam had already been peeled—only slicing remained.

As he picked up the knife, Qin Huai instinctively checked his grip. It was muscle memory from correcting his posture here before.

Cao Guixiang noticed and smiled without saying anything.

Qin Huai began slicing.

Compared to basic shredded radish, slicing yam was a bit harder—but since it was just slicing, the difficulty balanced out.

He didn’t hesitate. His knife moved quickly, and soon the rhythmic sound of chopping filled the kitchen.

Cao Guixiang watched with a smile, and only spoke after he finished.

“A bit too thick. It would be better if you could slice them thinner.”

Qin Huai smiled like a proper apprentice, plated the slices, and handed them over.

Cao Guixiang heated the oil.

Added the yam.

Zzz— a sizzling sound as she stir-fried.

It looked casual.

But only looked casual.

When Qin Huai stir-fried casually, it was truly casual. When Cao Guixiang did it, it only seemed casual because she wasn’t fully focused on the yam. She even had time to adjust the heat and quickly mix a bowl of starch water.

“Heat control isn’t as hard as you think,” she said. “Its purpose is to heat the food evenly. There’s no standardized motion for stir-frying. As long as the food heats evenly and achieves the desired result, even if you swing the spatula wildly, it still counts as good heat control.”

“Of course… don’t fling the food out of the pan.”

“So when cooking, don’t stress about whether your movements are correct. Focus on whether the dish itself is right.”

As she finished speaking, she picked up the bowl of starch water and, with a smooth circular motion, poured it along the rim of the bowl.

From Qin Huai’s close perspective, it almost looked like the liquid hung in the air for a moment.

Seeing her skilled thickening technique again, Qin Huai couldn’t help but admit—he had only learned the surface movements. Of the true essence, he had grasped maybe three parts out of ten.

A quick stir.

The yam was done and plated.

It looked beautiful—thin starch coating clinging to each slice, giving it a glossy sheen. Under the kitchen light, it almost looked translucent.

“Stir-fried yam is great for practicing thickening,” Cao Guixiang said as she carried the dish out. “Yam itself is already slightly sticky.”

She placed the dish on the table and sat down.

“I know you thicken crab roe sauce to improve taste and texture,” she continued, “but in savory cooking, another purpose of thickening is to make dishes more visually appealing.”

“The dishes are ready. Let’s eat.”

Qin Huai sat obediently, looked around, and noticed Zhang Zhiyun and Chang Qingqing weren’t there.

“Is it just… the three of us?”

“Just us tonight. Their monthly exam results weren’t good, and they have class tomorrow. No food for them tonight. Tomorrow we’ll make a big meal and invite them—otherwise they’ll cause a fuss if they find out,” Cao Guixiang said, placing a piece of pork belly in his bowl.

“Xiao Qin, try my pork belly with preserved vegetables.”

“You haven’t had it before, right? Don’t worry—it’s not salty at all.”

“This is your Grandpa Zhang’s favorite kind of rice dish. I usually don’t make it for him.”

Zhang Chu nodded repeatedly, his mouth stuffed full of pork belly, silently confirming her words.

Qin Huai picked up a piece and put it in his mouth.

Mmm.

Rich but not greasy. Deeply flavored with sauce, yet not salty at all—perfectly balanced.

The fatty part melted instantly, while the lean part stayed tender, not dry.

Paired with the sauce and preserved vegetables…

It was missing only one thing—

A big bite of plain white rice!

Qin Huai immediately shoveled a mouthful of rice into his mouth.

Mmm!!

Delicious!