AGN -Chapter 413 Vacation

In the end, Qin Huai followed Tan Weian’s suggestion and ordered dumplings for delivery, and also added an extra side of pickled vegetables.

The pickles were actually quite good—especially the pickled radish. It didn’t really go well with dumplings, but eaten on its own, it was surprisingly amazing. Qin Huai even felt that the shop owner shouldn’t be running a dumpling shop at all, but rather a dedicated pickles shop. It would definitely be a booming business.

Of course, this “buy dumplings, get pickles” model—where pickles couldn’t be ordered separately and had to come with dumplings—might simply have been a marketing strategy by the owner.

Either way, Qin Huai was quite willing to pay just for the pickles. He even messaged Boss Su asking whether this shop’s dumplings could be added to the staff meals, especially the pickles. Boss Su replied that he would look into it.

In the end, Tan Weian still didn’t stay at Qin Huai’s home. Before leaving, he even took a pack of cheese sticks, and he left quite early—before 8 o’clock.

Just after Tan Weian left, Qin Huai immediately called Boss Su to discuss the details of this exchange program.

Although Qin Huai had already visited Zhiwei Ju earlier that day, met most of the master chefs (two were off duty), familiarized himself with his cooking station, his setup (a dedicated assistant for tea preparation and 2–3 helpers), and confirmed that he would be studying under Master Zhou, he still didn’t know the specific process or schedule of the exchange.

To put it simply—it had all been quite sudden.

He originally just wanted to eat an egg tart, but while eating, he somehow ended up working. From start to finish, he hadn’t even met the real owner of Zhiwei Ju, Boss Su, Su Qi.

Even if he couldn’t meet in person, a phone call was necessary.

When Qin Huai called Boss Su, Su was still on the road returning to Zhiwei Ju. Qin Huai could even hear car horns through the phone.

“Master Zhou has already shown you your workstation and explained the kitchen setup. You also roughly understand the staffing. I believe Xiao Tan has told you the rest of the miscellaneous details, so I don’t actually have much more to add.”

“There’s one key thing no one has told me,” Qin Huai said. “Boss Su, this visit came quite suddenly. I sent my dessert list to Su Qian the day before yesterday, and he said pricing would be decided by you. I’m not sure what the final pricing is, and what exactly I should be making starting tomorrow for the formal exchange.”

“Master Qin, just make whatever desserts you want. If you don’t want to make anything, that’s fine too. It’s an exchange—mainly about exchanging ideas,” Su Qi said cheerfully.

Qin Huai: “?”

“…Huh?” he didn’t quite understand.

Su Qi paused as well. “Wait, Xiao Su and Xiao Tan didn’t tell you this most important part?”

“Maybe they forgot. In Zhiwei Ju, master chefs don’t have fixed menus. You can make whatever you want—even desserts you’ve never made before, as long as you want to try, you can.”

“As for pricing, all master chef desserts in Zhiwei Ju are sold at a unified price. For your special items, we will price them according to Huang Ji’s standard.”

“Also, unlike Huang Ji, which is a traditional kitchen with fixed business hours, Zhiwei Ju opens at 9 a.m. and closes at 7 p.m. Under normal circumstances, only apprentice chefs and a few qualified trainees have fixed menus. The master chefs’ items are sold randomly.”

“For example, didn’t you buy Master Zhou’s egg tart today? That’s how master chef desserts usually work. Some chefs are more regular—like Chef Zhang’s shrimp dumplings or Chef Hua’s noodles—regular customers often rely on experience to guess when those items come out and line up for luck.”

“But most chefs don’t have fixed schedules because they’re also mentoring apprentices. Especially Master Zhou—he is very strict in accepting disciples, but once someone becomes his personal student, he will teach them everything wholeheartedly.”

“More than 70% of Master Zhou’s time is spent on his students. The rest is mostly research and innovation. He actually doesn’t spend much time personally making desserts. Sometimes he only makes one or two batches a day. Today’s two batches of egg tarts are already quite rare.”

“If you’ve ever looked at Zhiwei Ju’s social media, you’ve probably seen posts from customers saying they ‘unboxed’ something that might be Master Zhou’s dessert.”

“Hopefully that helps you understand a bit—it’s not that we didn’t plan your menu. It’s just that this is how Zhiwei Ju operates.”

“Also, Master Qin, since you’re here as an exchange master, you’re not bound by the usual six-hour work requirement like other chefs. Others have shifts and fixed hours, but you are free to come at your convenience. Starting at 9 a.m. is perfect—you can just treat it casually. We have a morning meeting at 11 a.m., and as for when you leave, it depends on you.”

“Of course, your revenue share will still be calculated normally. I’ve checked with Huang Ji about your arrangement, and we will match their percentage and settle monthly.”

“As for the menu you sent me earlier for tomorrow, I’ve already contacted the restaurant. These dishes were recommended by Xiao Tan, right? You can try them on the first day. But that place has many other signature dishes—I suggest you try more starting the day after tomorrow. If you have other preferred restaurants, like today’s dumpling shop, just tell me anytime and I’ll coordinate.”

“Do you have any other questions?”

“No,” Qin Huai said.

His only question was whether all previous visiting master chefs also found it so hard to leave Zhiwei Ju that they wanted to stay forever.

Working as a master chef here… was way too comfortable. No wonder everyone felt so relaxed—it would be hard not to.

“I look forward to seeing you at 9 a.m. tomorrow at Zhiwei Ju,” Boss Su concluded in a perfectly professional, customer-service-like tone, ending the call like a support hotline resolving a ticket.

After hanging up, Qin Huai sat on the sofa in a daze for a long time.

So this was what working at Zhiwei Ju was like.

Zhiwei Ju—China’s top white-dish restaurant, the legendary gathering place of culinary elites. Whether burned out and leaving, or still grinding inside, everyone here was undeniably a top-tier “tryhard.”

Outsiders only needed to say, “I came from Zhiwei Ju,” and people would look at them differently. Whatever else, they would at least say: You must be someone who can endure hardship.

Qin Huai had always thought his days here would be nonstop dessert-making—day and night, turning himself into someone like Gu Li.

He had even prepared himself mentally for it.

For finger techniques, for the Four-Happiness Rolls, for Stone Bold’s mission—he was ready to grind himself to exhaustion.

But then Su Qi told him there was no need to grind at all. Just show up at 9 a.m.

Nine o’clock.

What kind of concept was that? Qin Huai had never once started work at 9 a.m. in his life. He came from a breakfast shop background.

Normally, even when he overslept, he would still be at work by around 8:30 a.m. Starting at 9 a.m. was something he couldn’t even imagine.

What kind of god-tier life is this?

Qin Huai even started to wonder—was this really his fate?

He had once thought he would grind his way through improving heat control proficiency, only to end up learning filling techniques instead; tried to improve thickening skills but somehow ended up practicing knife work instead. Every day he kept saying “truthful lies proficiency” was increasing rapidly. He had thought he was here to join a “king of grinders” training camp, destined for hardship and exhaustion.

But once he arrived, he was told: relax. This is a resort. It’s for resting and lying flat.

Qin Huai couldn’t understand it.

So he chose to start a video call in the “Happy Family” group chat to discuss the issue.

Brother Luo scoffed at it all, thinking Qin Huai must be out of his mind. As an old hand with limited time left, he was being dragged into this nonsense and wasting precious TV-watching time.

Qu Jing thought it was actually good that Qin Huai could relax at Zhiwei Ju. She, on the other hand, couldn’t rest at all lately—the hospital had been unusually busy for some reason. Even though Luo Jun, the infamous “medical troublemaker,” had stopped causing trouble, there were now at least twenty new troublemakers in his place. Qu Jing was being flooded with complaints every day.

Luo Jun immediately flew into a rage upon hearing this. Someone had actually taken over his “job” of causing medical disputes? Unforgivable! He declared that he would go to the hospital the next day himself to “meet” these new troublemakers and see what they were made of.

Chen Huihong became curious about how Luo Jun used to cause trouble, since she had never witnessed it herself.

So Luo Jun began to explain.

Qu Jing added details.

Chen Gong joined the group chat.

Shi Dadan was eating wontons the whole time, listening while eating—his mouth was busy, so he stayed on mute.

No one was really paying attention to Qin Huai. Qin Huai himself didn’t care much either; he was actually enjoying Luo Jun’s “medical troublemaking history,” and sincerely felt that Qu Jing truly was the backbone of her hospital. No wonder the leadership valued her so much—handling Luo Jun was not something ordinary people could do. Even if she were a spirit, she would be no ordinary spirit.

At the end of the conversation, Shi Dadan suddenly asked, “Qin Huai, since you’re at Zhiwei Ju and following Master Zhou, are you only exchanging ideas with him, or also working under him?”

This question nearly moved Qin Huai to tears.

He had almost forgotten who initiated this video call in the first place—and Shi Dadan, who had been eating wontons the entire time, actually remembered.

Is this what a divine beast is? Is this what an auspicious creature is?

So touching, family!

“I’m not entirely sure. It should mainly be exchanges with Master Zhou. I came to Zhiwei Ju specifically for him,” Qin Huai said. “I’ll only know the exact arrangement tomorrow.”

“Old Shi, how many more days are you staying in Suzhou? When are you coming to Hangzhou?”

“Probably another seven or eight days,” Shi Dadan replied. “I’ve never been to Hangzhou, so I don’t know the restaurants there. I need to ask around and plan what to eat first before going.”

Qin Huai: “…”

After ending the pleasant video call, Qin Huai took a quick shower, lay on the bed, and happily spent several hours on his phone. Rarely, he stayed up until midnight and fully experienced what “vacation happiness” felt like, before falling into a deep sleep.

The next day at 8:55 a.m., he arrived precisely at the side entrance of Zhiwei Ju.

He pushed the door open, went straight to the changing room to change clothes, and at 8:59 a.m., Master Qin made his dazzling entrance.

Boss Su had told him the day before that Zhiwei Ju opened at 9 a.m., which meant most staff already started working around 7 a.m. By the time Qin Huai entered the kitchen, it was already bustling—almost chaotic, full of energy and motion.

“Good morning, Master Qin.”

A trainee who looked very familiar to Qin Huai—but whose name he still couldn’t remember, though he seemed to have met him during an exchange at Yunzhong Canteen—greeted him instinctively, then quickly realized that wasn’t the usual custom here and shut his mouth.

Though Qin Huai didn’t remember his name, he remembered his pastry.

“How’s your white sugar cake doing? Did you make it today?” Qin Huai asked.

At that moment, the trainee almost teared up.

Master Qin remembers me. He remembers my white sugar cake!

The other trainees nearby were stunned. They all looked up at Qin Huai, then at the white sugar cake trainee, their expressions screaming: So you were living this kind of good life behind our backs in Yunzhong Canteen?

“I made it! I made it!” the trainee quickly replied.

“Then bring me a piece later so I can try it,” Qin Huai said casually.

He really did want to eat white sugar cake.

“The one who usually makes soup dumplings—did he make them today? If so, tell him to bring me half a basket later,” Qin Huai added.

“Yes, Master Qin!” the white sugar cake trainee’s voice was almost choked with emotion.

Qin Huai started looking for Master Zhou. Before he even found him, Master Zhou had already locked onto him.

Master Zhou strode over with large steps, wearing a gentle and kindly smile—two times more gentle than yesterday, though still not as warm as Master Hua.

“How did you rest last night?” Master Zhou asked gently.

“Very well, thank you. May I ask what I should do today? Should I make a few of my specialty desserts for you to review, or will you assign something for me to make?” Qin Huai replied respectfully.

Seeing how eager Qin Huai was, Master Zhou’s smile deepened. He waved his hand.

“No rush. This morning, just follow me and observe how Su Qian and the others make pastries.”

“Huh?” Qin Huai hadn’t expected this arrangement.

“Sometimes learning doesn’t require hands-on practice. Observing is enough. I’ve already seen your general level yesterday—your fundamentals are solid. The only weakness is your finger technique, mainly because no one has guided you properly.”

“For you, practicing isn’t the main thing right now. The key is to observe. You need to learn how to see.”

“In Zhiwei Ju, I have relatively few personal disciples—three, plus Su Qian who hasn’t taken any students yet. Before the morning meeting, your job is to stay with me and observe how they make pastries. If you notice anything, feel free to ask.”

“Have you had breakfast? I came early today and made some soup dumplings. They’ll be ready in about two or three minutes. I heard from Xiao Tan that you like eating them in the morning.”

Qin Huai: “!!”

To have soup dumplings made by Master Zhou first thing in the morning—what kind of god-tier life was this? Was he dreaming?

In an instant, Qin Huai completely lost interest in the white sugar cake and the other trainee’s soup dumplings.

So this is what a vacation feels like?

This is too happy.