AGN -Chapter 407 Arrival at Zhiwei Ju

Starting from the gossip about Chef Liu and Chef Hua, Tan Weian seemed to have opened the floodgates of conversation, pouring out endless bits of gossip without stopping.

It was just like how he pulled recipes out of a treasure bag—he clearly had plenty stored up, but usually had no chance to bring them out. Once someone opened the topic, he didn’t even need prompting and would frantically dig through his mental “treasure bag.”

All kinds of gossip were there.

For example: Chef A disliked Chef B because once at a staff dinner, after drinking too much, Chef B commented that Chef A’s pastries had problems. Later Chef B completely blacked out and didn’t remember a thing, but Chef A never let it go. Yet Chef A also felt it would make him look petty to argue over something like that, so he just silently stayed angry and kept disliking Chef B to this day.

Afterward, everyone concluded that Chef A really was petty—but of course Chef A never knew this, because everyone else was afraid he’d hold a grudge against them too.

Then there was Chef C disliking Chef B because both of them once wanted to take in the same apprentice. Chef C believed he was far more skilled and had it in the bag, but the apprentice ended up becoming Chef B’s disciple instead.

Because of this, Chef C was extremely unhappy and suspected Chef B had used underhanded tricks to steal the apprentice. He targeted Chef B relentlessly, almost causing a huge conflict, until Boss Su stepped in and mediated, barely restoring peace.

As for why the apprentice ultimately chose Chef B, no one in Zhiwei Ju knew—except Tan Weian. Because once, when Tan Weian was eating with that apprentice, the apprentice casually revealed that he actually knew Chef C was more skilled and better suited for him, but he personally preferred Chef B’s “Orchid Cake.” He became Chef B’s disciple purely because he loved eating that cake.

There were also things like Chef D being a cleanliness freak and demanding his apprentices must be extremely tidy; Chef E being obsessed with appearance and preferring good-looking apprentices regardless of gender—yet his own wife was average-looking, which made people question whether he really had an “appearance obsession” at all.

As for trivial gossip like Chef A’s top disciple being scammed out of 200,000 yuan online, Chef B’s disciple discovering after two years of online dating that the other person was the same gender, or Chef C’s disciple cheating on two partners and getting dragged to his workplace by one of the women nearly getting expelled—all of that was even more endless.

At this point, one might wonder why they were referred to as A, B, C, D instead of using surnames. Was it really impossible to come up with names or even surnames?

The main reason was that this was how Qin Huai heard it. Tan Weian spoke exactly like this—using A, B, C, D to refer to people.

According to Tan Weian, he simply knew too much. He knew things even Boss Su Qian didn’t, and things Su Qian didn’t know, he often did. This likely came from his position in Zhiwei Ju.

Tan Weian was a rather special existence there. He was the direct disciple of the head chef, the grandson of the head chef, and also a shareholder of Zhiwei Ju. However, his grandfather had passed away years ago, and most of his senior brothers had left to pursue careers elsewhere. Only he and Gu Li remained. This made Tan Weian important in status but not particularly strong in ability, and he had no conflicting interests with any faction.

He was like a lucky mascot junior uncle in cultivation novels—everyone respected him a little, he seemed to have backing but not much real power, yet no one wanted to offend him, nor did anyone truly fear him. People just felt it was fine to have someone like him around, which made his social relationships unusually good.

This was also why Tan Weian’s ability to gather gossip wasn’t as strong as Dong Shi, yet he knew so many “verified, explosive truths.”

Moreover, he had professional ethics when sharing gossip: he told what could be told, carefully filtered what should be partially told, and absolutely kept silent about what could not be said. And anything he did say was guaranteed real—no fake rumors, no exaggerations, no second-hand distortions.

Quality guaranteed.

As for using A, B, C, D, Tan Weian believed that gossip should remain gossip, and it shouldn’t affect Qin Huai’s judgment of the people in Zhiwei Ju.

Qin Huai was a newcomer entering Zhiwei Ju with a fresh identity. Tan Weian knew he was smart and had his own logic for judging people. If he gave too much information in advance, Qin Huai might form biases.

So instead, he used A, B, C, D so that Qin Huai could slowly understand everyone through later interactions. That would be more useful than telling him everything directly.

The only problem was that it was confusing—so confusing that Qin Huai felt dizzy and wanted to draw a chart just to sort out the relationships.

Even after getting off the car, he was still thinking about it.

Since Qin Huai had come to Hangzhou with everyone from Zhiwei Ju, Boss Su didn’t arrange a separate pickup. Instead, Su Qian directly took Qin Huai to his accommodation.

Because there were four people and large suitcases, they split into two taxis: Tan Weian and Gu Li in one, Qin Huai and Su Qian in another. Their destinations were close.

Gu Li was now living with Tan Weian, also across from Zhiwei Ju.

“Chef Qin, I’ll take you to settle in first. Please wait at home for a few minutes while I go back to drop off my luggage. Today I, Tan Weian, and Gu Li still have to go back to work. It’s not even noon yet, so we can still catch the afternoon shift.”

“You’re here for exchange training. You can either visit Zhiwei Ju or take a walk around West Lake. I recommend you come with me to Zhiwei Ju first so I can introduce the environment. Our back kitchen is much larger than Huang Ji’s, and since we’re a pure white-cut pastry restaurant, the layout is different. Some areas have air conditioning, some don’t.”

Qin Huai was shocked. “Some places even have air conditioning?”

Su Qian smiled. “Of course. Some pastries require strict temperature control—low temperature, constant temperature. Although our kitchen doesn’t get as hot as traditional restaurants due to fewer stoves, ovens and steamers still raise the temperature. So some areas must have air conditioning to ensure proper production.”

“We also have many large machines—dough kneaders, mixers, and so on. We may be a traditional white-cut pastry restaurant, but not as traditional as you think. Whether it’s my uncle or Chef Zhou, they believe modern technology can revolutionize pastry-making. Even chefs trained in traditional methods should update their thinking and accept new things.”

“Actually, this idea was first proposed by my uncle. Chef Zhou strongly disagreed at the beginning. He thought Chef Zheng leaving pastry work to open a factory and make low-end pastries was being unfocused and wasting talent.”

“Even though Chef Zhou still dislikes Chef Zheng today, I feel he pays a lot of attention to him. Every time Zheng’s factory releases new products, Chef Zhou buys them. And over the years, as Zheng improved his recipes—moving away from cheap, simple, mass-produced pastries and instead making mid-to-low and even mid-tier pastries that ordinary shops can’t replicate—Chef Zhou’s attitude has changed significantly.”

“The introduction of machines and researching how to use them to replace manual labor without lowering quality while increasing output—that was also proposed by Chef Zhou and Boss Su.”

This was the first time Su Qian had explained Chef Zhou in such detail, and Qin Huai was genuinely surprised.

To be honest, Qin Huai had always imagined Chef Zhou as a highly skilled but rigid, traditional, conservative old-school pastry master.

His strict apprentice selection, sharp tongue, and attitude toward Zheng Da all reinforced that image—respected, strict, old-fashioned, and somewhat cold yet caring underneath.

Very much like the typical “number one white pastry chef in the ranking list.”

But Su Qian told him otherwise: Chef Zhou wasn’t conservative at all—he was actually a reformist, possibly even slightly radical.

Qin Huai suddenly felt that compared to Chef Zhou, he might actually be the conservative one—probably due to his years running a traditional breakfast shop that required no machines, only manual labor.

He became a little nervous.

“Su Qian… can you send me a list of all the machines in Zhiwei Ju? I want to… understand them in advance.”

And maybe look them up online to see what they are, how they work, and what they’re used for.

Qin Huai knew that many machines required special training to operate. Take, for example, the ice machine and coffee machine at Xiao Ou’s handmade lemon tea shop—there were quite a few machines there that Qin Huai simply didn’t know how to use.

As for why he was so certain, it was because when Ou Yang first opened the shop, even he couldn’t operate some of his own machines.

Although Ou Yang was the owner and top salesman of Xiao Ou Handmade Lemon Tea Shop, his actual job was always just mixing milk tea. He wasn’t even in charge of shaking the drinks.

Thinking of Ou Yang and the shop, Qin Huai couldn’t help smacking his lips.

It had been a long time since he’d seen his good brother, and a long time since he’d drunk the milk tea and hand-shaken lemon tea made by him.

Qin Huai casually asked, “Is there a handmade lemon tea shop near Zhiwei Ju?”

“Yes, there is a milk tea shop right at the entrance of your residential area, Chef Qin.” Su Qian replied. As if he had prepared for this in advance, he then sent Qin Huai a list of Zhiwei Ju’s kitchen equipment, complete with usage instructions and diagrams.

Seeing Qin Huai’s puzzled look, Su Qian thoughtfully explained, “Many chefs who come here for exchanges haven’t used a lot of these machines before, so this list was prepared in advance by Boss Su.”

Qin Huai finally understood and lowered his head to study it carefully. However, because the driver drove somewhat aggressively—braking and turning suddenly—Qin Huai, who hadn’t been carsick in years, almost felt like he was going to vomit just from reading.

As a result, the first thing Qin Huai did after getting out of the car was head to the milk tea shop at the entrance of the neighborhood and drink two big gulps of his favorite hand-shaken lemon tea.

Then he immediately felt that it wasn’t as good as what Ou Yang made.

Ou Yang really did have some talent for making hand-shaken lemon tea—if only he didn’t keep inventing strange things.

“Chef Qin, the air outside is better. Would you like to stand at the entrance for a while? I’ll help you take your luggage upstairs, and you can walk around nearby,” Su Qian suggested when he saw Qin Huai wasn’t feeling well.

Qin Huai nodded slightly. For someone who hadn’t been carsick in years to suddenly get hit with it, he felt uncomfortable all over.

Su Qian dragged his suitcase into the neighborhood, while Qin Huai, left with his milk tea in one hand and his phone in the other, wandered aimlessly.

Originally, he just wanted to find a nice outdoor spot to sit, but as he walked around, he somehow ended up in front of Zhiwei Ju.

The apartment Su Boss arranged for him was really close—less than a five-minute walk. If he walked fast, it would take only two or three minutes.

Zhiwei Ju was a two-story imitation ancient-style building, a very typical Suzhou-style structure. It was beautiful and refined. Calling it “ornate” might be an exaggeration, but the carved beams and wooden windows on both floors clearly showed intricate craftsmanship.

More importantly, the building carried a strong sense of history—it was clearly not a modern replica for tourists. It looked like it had existed there for many years, originally built in this style, and while the surrounding environment had changed with time and modern concrete buildings, only this restaurant had remained.

The entrance of Zhiwei Ju was lively.

Beneath the signboard was the main door, wide open. Inside, Qin Huai could see many small dining tables and a counter selling pastries. On the right side was a takeaway window with three small openings, each staffed by employees selling pastries.

There were diners inside the hall as well—Qin Huai estimated the occupancy rate to be around 70–80%. For a place of this size and table density, that was quite impressive.

At the takeaway windows, about twenty customers were also lining up. The service was fast.

While drinking his lemon tea, Qin Huai observed for a while and realized that the takeaway window only sold simple pastries—various crisps, cakes, and snacks suitable for quick packing and eating on the go.

To his surprise, Zhiwei Ju even sold egg tarts. At four yuan each, they weren’t expensive. You could buy them at the window, but only if you were lucky—

They had to be freshly baked and available at the moment.

And Qin Huai happened to be lucky.

Even before seeing the egg tarts, he smelled their rich aroma. Despite still feeling a bit nauseous from carsickness, the scent of eggs, milk, sugar, and baked pastry was so strong that he still felt tempted.

Without hesitation, he joined the queue—and successfully bought one.

He squatted under a tree near the entrance of Zhiwei Ju and slowly ate the egg tart.

Not very hungry, slightly nauseous—but it was fragrant, delicious, and still made him want to eat.

He took small bites.

As he ate, the shade above him seemed to grow deeper.

Qin Huai looked up and realized it wasn’t the shade—it was someone standing in front of him.

A middle-aged man in his forties or fifties stood there. He looked either slightly chubby or solidly built, wearing a striped shirt and gold-rimmed glasses. His expression was serious yet gentle as he looked down at Qin Huai.

Thinking he was blocking the entrance while squatting and eating, Qin Huai quickly stood up.

“Hello, Chef Qin. I’ve long heard of your name.” The man extended his hand. “I’m Zhou Guohai.”

Zhou Guohai?

The name drifted through Qin Huai’s mind. He didn’t immediately recognize it, but it felt familiar. After two seconds, he finally remembered.

Chef Zhou!

“Hello, Chef Zhou… I-I’m Qin Huai.” Qin Huai awkwardly shook the egg tart crumbs from his hand, wanting to shake hands but hesitating because his fingers were oily.

“F-first meeting… I’m the one who should be honored to meet you.”