AGN -Chapter 357 The “Sense” Master Teaching Live

After the first plate of stir-fried Chinese yam was finished, Qin Huai immediately started the second batch.

In fact, for demonstration purposes, frying just one plate would have been enough. But Qin Huai was used to it—he felt uncomfortable unless all ten pieces of yam were cooked in one go. He had to finish them in one continuous stretch.

Zheng Siyuan and the other two stood by watching intensely, arms crossed over their chests, brows slightly furrowed, eyes locked in focus, tracking every movement of Qin Huai’s hands. The three of them stood there like carbon copies of each other.

Soon, the second plate of stir-fried yam was ready.

Just like the first plate, it was perfectly acceptable stir-fried yam. The knife work was solid, the heat control was decent—good enough to be considered “not bad.” The thickening of the sauce was excellent. Combined together, this dish would easily earn praise in an ordinary restaurant.

That description shouldn’t be underestimated. You have to know that, given Qin Huai’s previous cooking skills, if he had gone to a normal restaurant kitchen, he would have been the kind of cook customers complained about.

Every time Qin Huai and Qin Luo “embezzled” their meal budget and decided to cook at home, it had always been a gamble.

Zang Liang held the first plate of stir-fried yam, eating while watching Qin Huai cook. The more he watched, the more he felt Qin Huai already looked like a qualified community canteen chef.

In his eyes, Qin Huai was clearly on track to surpass the two red-case chefs at Yunzhong Canteen. Those two chefs were honestly average—fine for home-style stir-fries, but the moment they handled banquet-level dishes, their flaws were exposed, especially with dishes like braised pork with preserved vegetables.

Zang Liang still couldn’t understand how that dish could be made so poorly.

During the days Qin Huai was away for training in Guangdong Province, Zang Liang had naturally taken over staff meal duty. At first, he didn’t want to do it—this kind of staff meal work was usually considered a chore in big restaurants, typically rotated among less skilled chefs. Senior chefs often didn’t even eat the staff meals, preferring to cook something for themselves.

Back at his own workplace, Zang Liang never ate staff meals either—he always had his master’s private cooking.

But he didn’t expect the staff meals at Yunzhong Canteen to be so unsatisfying. One or two meals were fine, but after a while, he couldn’t stand it.

Unlike Qin Huai, who had grown up on home-style cooking, Zang Liang had been apprenticed to Zang Mu from a very young age. His refined palate was not only natural talent but also the result of being fed dish after dish of high-level cuisine.

This kind of training method was common among traditional master-apprentice systems. Whether it was Cao Guixiang, Zheng Da, or Huang Shengli, they all fed their apprentices excellent dishes early on—not just to broaden their horizons, but also to develop their taste.

So someone like Zang Liang, who had grown up on top-tier Huaiyang cuisine, had never suffered like this before. On the second day after Qin Huai went to Guangdong, without anyone asking him, he had already taken the initiative to take over staff meals.

Of course, he did it casually—fried rice, two vegetable dishes, and a stir-fried meat dish. That was the staff meal he provided. For himself, Zheng Siyuan, Tan Weian, and Zang Liang, they would cook something slightly better separately as a “private meal.”

Staff could also choose not to eat Zang Liang’s food and order regular dishes instead.

But after trying his cooking, all the staff chose his stir-fried vegetables and meat dishes. No further explanation needed—everyone suddenly felt they needed to lose weight, and eating more vegetables was healthier anyway.

Even Ou Yang joined in happily, eating staff meals every day while sitting at the kitchen entrance with a tray.

Even the two red-case chefs at Yunzhong Canteen were eating Zang Liang’s staff meals.

On his first day at Yunzhong Canteen, Zang Liang thought he had simply come to help Qin Huai with some tasks. Aside from researching the thickening technique of crab roe paste with Qin Huai, he occasionally helped stir-fry simple dishes.

But reality quickly deviated from his plan. First, he realized he couldn’t even begin to figure out the “feel” of crab roe paste thickening. Then he discovered he had no spare time to cook simple dishes either—because he was constantly searching for that elusive “sense.”

Eventually, although he had no free time, he ended up taking over the staff meals just to ensure decent food for himself.

Sometimes when he looked back at these days, he even felt like he had actually been hired by Qin Huai as a dedicated staff meal chef to boost morale at Yunzhong Canteen.

All because the benefits were good—staff meals were actually Huaiyang cuisine.

The three of them stood there watching Qin Huai cook plate after plate, while Zang Liang kept eating plate after plate. By the end, he was even hiccupping from being too full.

Finally, when Qin Huai reached the last batch, Tan Weian asked quietly, almost guiltily:

“Qin Huai’s thickening technique… what level is he at now? I feel like his technique has become normal, and maybe even better than mine…”

“You’re not mistaken,” Zang Liang confirmed.

“He’s now at a very standard level. Timing, starch-water ratio, control of heat—all completely fine. If you let him fry a plate of yam now, he might even do better than you.”

Tan Weian: “……”

“Thanks… I didn’t need that feeling.”

He weakly added, “But I’m a white-case chef… of course I’m not good at stir-frying yam…”

Halfway through saying it, he already realized the problem.

Because Qin Huai was also a white-case chef. A self-taught one at that. A white-case chef with poor red-case fundamentals. A chef who used to chop radishes every day to train basics. A chef who even struggled holding a wok spatula properly.

And yet this very person had now reached the point where his stir-fried yam was already decent.

Only someone who knew Qin Huai well could feel how terrifying his progress was—like a sudden leap, not gradual improvement.

At this point, even if Qin Huai said he had a cheat artifact, or that one day in his training room counted as ten days, or even sixty days, Tan Weian might actually believe it.

He couldn’t understand it at all.

He picked up Zang Liang’s chopsticks, took a piece of yam, and put it into his mouth.

Crisp texture, thin and even coating of sauce, perfectly balanced for the naturally sticky texture of yam. The seasoning was stable and clean—Qin Huai never failed at seasoning anymore.

It was completely different from his first attempt at copying Cao Guixiang’s thickening technique.

After eating it, all words turned into one sentence:

“How did he do it?” Tan Weian sighed. “Is he some kind of monster?”

Zheng Siyuan nodded silently.

“First day you met him?”

Tan Weian: “……”

Fine. That was his mistake.

Compared to them, Zang Liang was the most excited. Even though he was already full, he kept eating more yam, more and more convinced of Qin Huai’s progress.

This wasn’t small improvement—it was a qualitative leap.

He must have found it. The “sense” Qin Huai talked about—that must be the secret!

Master… your disciple is almost there. I’m close to finding that feeling you talked about!

When you return from your exchange trip, I’ll give you a surprise just like the one Qin Huai gave us today!

—

Qin Huai finished all the yam.

Honestly—it felt great.

After several days of nonstop frying, this repetitive practice had been carved into his DNA. If he skipped even one piece of yam, something felt wrong.

He felt this method should continue. Right now, stir-fried yam was the best way for him to train knife skills and heat control, while also practicing thickening technique and building a foundation for double-crab buns.

Multiple benefits in one.

“So?” Qin Huai turned around.

He saw the shock in the eyes of the three of them—and felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. The exhaustion from the previous days instantly disappeared.

As expected—what’s the point of achieving something if you don’t show off a little afterward?

Zang Liang still asked the same question, but his eyes were different now:

“How did you do it?”

Zang Liang’s eyes, which had previously been filled with pure curiosity, were now full of amazement, admiration, and firm determination—I must learn this.

“I know I’ve already asked this question, and you’ve told me that to improve seasoning, I need to train knife skills and heat control to find the ‘feeling.’ But how exactly do I find this feeling? How do I train it? At my current level, how should I practice knife skills and heat control? Should I fry yam like you? Or should I practice other dishes?”

Zang Liang fired off several questions in one breath.

Tan Weian: ?

Bro, you actually believe Qin Huai’s nonsense? That improving seasoning requires first training knife skills and heat control—does that even sound reasonable?

But Qin Huai’s progress really was shocking. There’s a saying that “folk remedies cure serious illnesses”—maybe these strange, unconventional methods actually work sometimes?

Recently, Tan Weian had been struggling with his dough fermentation skills. He began seriously considering whether he had been going in the wrong direction. If he wanted to improve fermentation, maybe he shouldn’t focus only on fermentation itself—he should also practice filling preparation and lamination techniques.

Hmm… he should find time to discuss it with Su Qian. Su Qian was quite skilled at lamination.

Qin Huai fell into silence again.

This time, it wasn’t because he was bad at speaking—it was because he genuinely didn’t know how to answer. Zang Liang’s red-cooking skills were far above his own. He had no idea what Zang Liang should actually be practicing.

But Qin Huai could see that Zang Liang truly wanted to understand. Among all the “believers” of the “feeling school,” Zang Liang was the one most eager to find it.

And also the most talented.

Tan Weian couldn’t find it. Zheng Siyuan didn’t bother to look for it. Only Zang Liang truly wanted to follow Qin Huai’s path and uncover the essence of “feeling.”

Qin Huai didn’t want to disappoint such a devoted follower.

So he racked his brain and said, “Alright, I’ll explain to you what kind of feeling I experienced when cutting and stir-frying the yam.”

“Good, good!” Zang Liang nodded rapidly.

Qin Huai began carefully explaining the two completely different yet equally effective, almost transcendent sensations.

Not a single word was false—everything he said was the truth. To make his explanation less plain, he even used idioms and expressions.

He described everything in detail, even including his inner thoughts—like how while practicing, he suddenly thought back to learning penmanship as a child.

Zang Liang listened with complete focus. Zheng Siyuan listened with interest. Tan Weian listened half-understandingly.

After more than half an hour, Qin Huai finally finished describing those two mystical “feelings.”

By the end, his throat was dry. If Su Qian hadn’t noticed and handed him water, he felt he would’ve gone hoarse.

Wait… why was Su Qian handing him tea just now?

Qin Huai looked closely—and realized everyone from the Know-Taste Pavilion trainees had, one by one, started slacking off.

Not exactly slacking off—they were pretending to work while secretly listening. Acting busy on the surface, but actually doing nothing except eavesdropping.

Even Gu Li was listening from a cooking station not far away.

Li Hua and Pei Xing were even worse—they had practically moved next to Tan Weian, openly listening.

Qin Huai: …?

Did I really speak that vividly, that engaging, that captivating?

Has my verbal expression gotten this good?

Seeing Qin Huai look over, everyone awkwardly scattered. Even Su Qian silently refilled a cup of tea and left with the kettle.

Everyone knew Qin Huai’s temperament well. Since he was willing to talk about it publicly—and even spoke louder and louder as he went—he clearly didn’t mind people hearing it.

But not minding didn’t mean he invited them to listen. Eavesdropping was still eavesdropping.

In truth, Qin Huai didn’t care. He looked at Zang Liang and asked, “Do you roughly understand what I mean by ‘feeling’ now?”

Zang Liang thought for a moment.

“A little bit.”

“This is like a moment of enlightenment in martial arts novels. After enough practice and accumulation, you suddenly break through at the right moment—like opening the meridians in one go.”

“So what my master meant was not that my skill is lacking, but that I already have enough accumulation—I just haven’t had that breakthrough moment.”

“I kept obsessing over seasoning, getting stuck in a dead end. The more anxious I got, the less I could grasp it.”

“It’s like when I kept thinking about crab roe paste—I thought about it too much, and couldn’t find its ‘feeling.’ But when I shifted my focus to thickening instead of constantly obsessing over crab roe filling, I actually began to understand it.”

“I get it now. No wonder you told me to train knife skills and heat control to improve seasoning. When you’re stuck in a dead end, you can’t solve it by force. Knife skills, heat control, and seasoning are all fundamentals of red cooking—they support each other. There are many paths to the same destination.”

“If I can’t break through seasoning directly, I can take another route through knife skills and heat control. As long as I improve them enough, my seasoning will naturally reach that breakthrough moment!”

Qin Huai: …

How did you understand all that? I don’t even understand that much.

Before Qin Huai could respond, Zang Liang continued: “I understand even more now.”

“One should never get stuck in a dead end. I kept thinking only about improving seasoning, and the more I thought, the worse it got. But I don’t just have to train knife skills and heat control—I can also practice thickening techniques. That’s another skill too. Changing practice methods can change mindset.”

“When your mindset changes, your state changes. And when your state is right, you naturally find the ‘feeling’ you talked about. I understand it now! Thank you, Qin Huai!”

“That feeling really is hard to grasp—but your explanation was incredibly clear. Tan Weian said you’re bad at speaking, but you’re not bad at all.”

Tan Weian: ???

Bro??

“Yes, that’s exactly it. I finally understand what ‘feeling’ is. Qin Huai, when do we start practicing thickening techniques?”

“You’ve helped me so much—I’ll stay at Yunzhong Canteen until your crab duo buns are completed!”

“Tell me what you want for lunch every day, I’ll prepare it in advance!”

“I’m going to call my master tonight and tell him this breakthrough!”

Zang Liang was visibly excited.

Qin Huai: …

What exactly did I say? How did he suddenly understand everything?

Forget it—it didn’t matter.

From today onward, their “feeling school” had gained another powerful member.

Qin Huai smiled faintly.

“Then…”

“Shall we start practicing crab roe paste thickening now?”

“Okay!”