AGN -Chapter 345 Practice More

“Dishes are all served—braised shark fin in brown sauce!”

As Qin Huai placed the final dish on the table, Zhang Zhiyun and Chang Qingqing both let out excited cheers, just short of raising their chopsticks and bowls to shout, “Great, time to eat!”

All the members of the Zhang family were present.

There were still two empty seats at the round dining table. One, next to Zhang Chu, was clearly reserved for Cao Guixiang. The other, between Zhang Zhiyun and Chang Qingqing, was obviously meant for Qin Huai. Seeing the seat they had saved for him, Qin Huai was momentarily speechless, with only one thought in his mind: You’re sitting at the kids’ table.

Thoughtfully, Zhang Zhiyun had even poured Qin Huai a drink—some well-known brand of coconut juice.

This unlucky kid… such an important meal and he’s drinking soda? Clearly spoiled by eating good food too often—doesn’t understand how to appreciate a feast.

Seeing Qin Huai still standing, Zhang Zhiyun and Chang Qingqing assumed the space they left was too cramped and quickly shuffled aside.

With a helpless sigh, Qin Huai sat down, nodding with a smile at the two who were as excited as huskies or golden retrievers seeing people.

At the same time, Cao Guixiang came out of the kitchen after washing her hands, removed her apron, and took her seat.

Everyone obediently waited for the head chef to take the first bite.

Instead of using chopsticks, Cao Guixiang picked up a spoon and scooped forcefully into the belly of the freshly cooked stuffed yellow croaker. The fish skin, tightened by oil, and the flesh—marinated, air-dried, then steamed—was incredibly tender. With one scoop, the belly broke open, and a rich “soup,” comparable to that of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, flowed out, fragrant and golden.

All it lacked was a dramatic anime-style effect and a Great Wall background soundtrack—otherwise the onlookers would already be gasping and screaming.

Well, actually, no special effects were needed. Zhang Zhiyun and Chang Qingqing were already drooling. Even Qin Huai, who had watched the entire cooking process in the kitchen, subconsciously swallowed when he saw the finished dish.

Cao Guixiang ladled some of the “soup” for Qin Huai.

Calling it soup was a stretch—it was packed with dried scallops, sea cucumber, abalone, and tiny dried shrimp. The golden broth wasn’t thick; it mostly served to coat everything in a luxurious sheen, making the ingredients look even more impressive.

“Here, Xiao Qin, try the stuffed yellow croaker first.”

“There’s no strict way to eat this dish. Eat whatever you like—mix the fish with the fillings, drink the soup, or skip the soup entirely. However you want. If you feel like it, you can even pour it over rice,” Cao Guixiang said with a smile. Then she shot a warning glance at Zhang Zhiyun. “Zhiyun, mixing with rice is fine—but don’t scoop out all the soup like last time and leave nothing for others.”

Receiving his grandmother’s warning, Zhang Zhiyun nodded repeatedly, claiming his recent grades weren’t great so he wouldn’t dare pull such a stunt again. Then he immediately scooped a huge spoonful of braised shark fin over his rice and started eating enthusiastically.

He still loved braised shark fin just as much.

Qin Huai began tasting the stuffed yellow croaker. Though Cao Guixiang had only given him one spoonful, it contained a bit of everything—fish belly meat, the shark fin and ham steamed on top, and the fillings inside: sea cucumber, abalone, dried shrimp, scallops—even a bit of the shrimp paste used to seal it.

Since she said to eat however he liked, Qin Huai didn’t hesitate.

He picked up a cube of abalone first.

The abalone was diced from fresh pieces, not too small. Dipped in the broth and put into his mouth, it tasted intensely fresh—savory in that unmistakably oceanic way. Different from dishes like Three-Set Duck or braised bighead carp head, which combined land and sea flavors, this dish focused purely on the taste of the sea—naturally leaning toward a salty freshness. The abalone was springy, with a delightful chew.

Next, he tried the sea cucumber.

The flavor was similar, but the texture differed. The abalone was bouncy, while the sea cucumber was soft and gelatinous with a slight chew. Since both ingredients are relatively mild on their own, relying on seasoning and cooking to bring out their flavor, they shared a similar profile but offered distinct mouthfeels.

At that moment, Qin Huai suddenly understood why sea cucumber was used in double crab buns—to provide texture.

Because it truly mattered.

When a dish has already reached the pinnacle of flavor—whether extreme freshness or richness—it becomes difficult to improve taste further. At that point, texture, often overlooked, begins to shine.

Texture, too, can be an ultimate sensory pleasure.

As food is chewed on the tongue, each bite brings subtle variations in sensation and flavor, sending waves of enjoyment to the brain. It’s an irreplaceable experience. At such moments, your senses heighten—you begin to seek more than just taste: presentation, aroma, texture.

Perhaps the philosophy behind double crab buns and this stuffed yellow croaker was the same—if flavor can’t be pushed further, elevate other aspects to create a richer experience.

Qin Huai also instantly understood why Cao Guixiang said there was no fixed way to eat this dish.

Because once it enters your mouth, you naturally discover your own perfect way to enjoy it.

Without hesitation, he picked up his bowl, scooped a generous spoonful—ingredients and broth together—and ate it all in one bite.

Mmm…

Such freshness. Such a powerful taste of the sea.

The savory essence of seafood was concentrated in that single spoonful, while the clear broth and shrimp oil balanced out any excessive fishiness or saltiness.

This dish used so many ingredients—abalone, shark fin, sea cucumber, scallops, shrimp, dried shrimp, ham—not just to inflate its price, but because each had a purpose.

It needed this variety. It needed this level of freshness. It needed these layered textures. Each bite revealed new depths, lingering endlessly on the palate.

Even if all the ingredients blended together into an indistinguishable mix, it didn’t matter.

It was delicious. Its complexity, texture, and flavor spoke for themselves.

Of course, reducing ingredients might create a different charm—highlighting individual flavors more clearly. But Qin Huai had only ever tasted this version.

As Cao Guixiang said, when your skill reaches the highest level, every approach has its justification.

Just like Jiang Weijin’s mixed-fruit tangyuan filling—absurdly ingredient-heavy, yet still defensible in its own way.

Qin Huai was completely immersed in the meal. He didn’t even want to try other dishes—just savor the croaker again.

But he felt a bit embarrassed to take more. There was only one fish, and so many people…

Cao Guixiang saw right through him. Without hesitation, she took his bowl and added two more spoonfuls.

“Xiao Qin, wild yellow croaker is hard to get. Eat more.”

Qin Huai grinned sheepishly and dug in.

Hehe, stuffed yellow croaker is so good.

Slurp.

Ah… if I’d known the food would be this amazing, I would’ve brought Luo Luo back. Missing a couple days of school wouldn’t matter…

“Brother Qin Huai, have some braised shark fin.”

While Qin Huai was lost in thought about how to motivate his younger sister to study harder, Zhang Zhiyun eagerly served him another spoonful.

“If you don’t eat it now, Qingqing will finish it. I told her to save you some—she almost forgot,” he added, tattling.

Chang Qingqing: “?! You’re stabbing me in the back?”

“You’re the one eating the most! Grandma won’t let you mix the croaker soup with rice, so now you’re using shark fin instead!” she shot back, raising her voice. “Grandma, Zhang Zhiyun only got 108 on his math monthly test—I got 112!”

Qin Huai: …

If he remembered correctly, wasn’t the full score 120?

If that counted as doing poorly… then his sister’s math…

He looked at the two of them and couldn’t help but sigh—people’s joys and sorrows really weren’t the same.

If his sister had ever scored 108, their whole family would’ve celebrated in their dreams.

Cao Guixiang deliberately put on a stern face. “Zhiyun has been slacking. Didn’t you usually score 115? Don’t forget your bet with Grandma—what score do you need in the entrance exam to earn three days of braised shark fin rice?”

“Don’t end up missing the target and having to watch Qingqing eat while you cry on the side.”

Zhang Zhiyun: QAQ

Zhang Zhiyun quietly asked Qin Huai, “Brother Qin Huai, when will you come back next time? When you do, can you tell Grandma you want to eat braised shark fin? You really like it too, right?”

Qin Huai felt Zhang Zhiyun had some strategy—but not much. He put on a serious, regretful expression and shook his head. “Hard to say. You know I usually stay in Shanshi. I’ll probably come back around the end of the year.”

Zhang Zhiyun: QAQ!!

He ate his braised shark fin rice sadly.

After dinner, Zhang Chu took his son and daughter to the neighbor’s house next door to collect pastries. The pastries Qin Huai brought were divided fairly into three portions: one for Zhang Chu and Cao Guixiang, one for Zhang Chiyuan’s family, and one for Zhang Siyu’s family.

While counting, Zhang Chu discovered the neighbor had secretly hidden two bags of four-happiness tangyuan, one bag of san ding buns, and one bag of fermented rice mantou. The neighbor refused to admit it, insisting he had only hidden one bag of each and accusing Zhang Chu of slander for claiming there were two bags of tangyuan missing.

They argued for five minutes until the neighbor’s grandson confessed—he’d been too greedy the night before, got up in the middle of the night, cooked a whole bag of tangyuan, and ate all of it himself.

The neighbor was furious. “Twelve tangyuan in one bag and you ate them all yourself? Aren’t you afraid of bursting? No wonder you took your breakfast away this morning—you couldn’t even eat it!” He immediately started beating the grandson.

Zhang Chu even contributed his own bamboo stick.

Zhang Zhiyun stood beside Qin Huai explaining enthusiastically that the bamboo stick used to be what his dad used to hit him with—it hurt a lot. The quality was excellent too; after all these years of use, it still hadn’t broken, which was why Zhang Chu never threw it away.

Qin Huai: …

He could only say he really didn’t understand the Zhang family. Bamboo sticks even had grades now? He was almost tempted to get one himself.

By the time everyone else left, it was already 9 PM.

Qin Huai felt it was time to begin training.

He just didn’t know whether tonight’s practice would be knife skills or thickening with starch. All the radishes had already been cut in the afternoon—there wasn’t any left to practice on.

There were still plenty of Chinese yams, though. Qin Huai had peeked into the storage room earlier—it was packed full of them.

Cao Guixiang smiled and asked, “Ready?”

“Ready, Master! Are we practicing knife skills or thickening tonight?”

“Both.”

She told Zhang Chu to carry a box of yams into the kitchen and pointed at them. “Start by slicing the yams. Don’t cut too many at once—do ten at a time.”

“After cutting, cook them yourself. Stir-fry them and thicken the sauce at the end. I’ll watch from the side and point out any problems, just like when you practiced knife skills before.”

Qin Huai hadn’t expected this method. This wasn’t just knife skills and thickening together—it was knife skills, thickening, and heat control all at once.

If it had been yesterday, he might’ve been embarrassed to admit his knife work was poor, his thickening average, and his heat control even worse. The final stir-fried yams would probably end up as disastrous as they had looked during the video call.

Actually, seeing them in person was even worse.

Especially compared to Cao Guixiang’s level.

But now, Qin Huai had no such concerns. He had already called her “Master”—what was there to worry about?

“Got it, Master.” He tied on his apron confidently and entered the kitchen to start slicing yams.

Compared to radishes, yams were slightly harder to cut—their texture wasn’t as ideal for practice.

Still, not a big problem. Qin Huai believed his beginner-level intermediate knife skills could handle most issues when slicing yam pieces.

He quickly finished cutting ten yams and began stir-frying.

Cao Guixiang didn’t tell him the ratio for the starch slurry—he had to rely on his own judgment.

As Qin Huai cooked, Zhang Chu curiously brought over a small stool and sat at the kitchen door to watch.

Chaotic stir-frying.

Some control of heat—but not much. At least nothing burned.

Thickening.

Stylish thickening.

Then more chaotic stirring.

Dish out.

A plate of stir-fried yams that definitely wouldn’t rank above D-grade. Okay, maybe D was flattering—more like D-minus.

Somewhere between E+ and D−.

Cao Guixiang took a bite, said nothing, and told him to continue.

Qin Huai kept going.

Second plate.

Same result—she tasted it, said nothing.

Third plate, fourth plate…

He just kept cooking nonstop.

After finishing all ten yams, Cao Guixiang finally spoke:

“I’ve seen your problems.”

“From knife skills to heat control to thickening—everything has issues.”

“For knife work, the problem is simply lack of practice with yams. It was obvious at first, but later you found your rhythm. With more practice, you’ll overcome it.”

“Remember—how you cut the yam depends on how you want to cook it. If something feels wrong during cooking, then it is wrong. Trust your instincts and find the direction to fix it.”

“Your heat control has the fewest problems. Chef Huang taught you well. Even though your movements look messy, your timing is decent. Unlike your knife skills before—where it looked right on the surface but your grip was completely wrong. Still, keep practicing.”

“As for thickening…” she made a complicated expression, “just like your knife skills before—forget everything you think you know.”

Qin Huai: …

He had thought his heat control was the worst. Turns out, thickening was even worse.

“You’ve copied my movements and some techniques, but this isn’t a formula—you can’t apply it blindly. You also have many basic issues. Now cut another ten yams. I’ll cook, and you watch how I stir-fry and thicken.”

“Old Zhang, did you inform the pig farm?”

“Yes. They’re very happy. Said pigs prefer cooked yams.”