AGN -Chapter 418 The Difference Between Pastry Chefs and Master Chefs

As Qin Huai and Zhao Cheng’an followed behind Master Zhou, they felt like interns in a medical drama trailing after the chief surgeon—wearing white coats, clutching patient charts, understanding nothing, yet still able to bask in the authority of the group.

Wherever they looked, they saw the reverent gazes of “patients” (apprentices). When their eyes met, the first reaction from the apprentices was always to look away, then quickly hand over their “test results” (pastries). The attending “doctor” mainly inspected, while the interns followed behind to pick up scraps and listen to the diagnosis.

Standing behind the “chief doctor” eating pastries, Qin Huai felt like he had been watching too many TV dramas.

Strange—he didn’t even watch that much television.

Well… maybe just a little.

“What is this? Could it be the legendary egg rice noodle roll? To think something like this could appear in the back kitchen of Zhiwei Ju is truly an honor. This rice roll skin is so thick it could be used as a blanket. What, is the low-temperature room too cold so you made your own bedding and plan to send it over?”

“Who made this mung bean cake? I’ve heard of Beijing-style, Yunnan-style, Su-style, and Yang-style, but this is my first time seeing this type. What style is this? Sweet style? Sugar-is-free style? Or did your hand shake while adding sugar and you dumped the entire jar in?”

“Did we receive an order from a hospital? Special pastries for hypoglycemia patients? This mung bean cake is so sweet. Did you take money from one of my enemies? Heard my blood sugar’s been a bit high, so you made this batch to push it even higher?”

“Oh? What’s this? Brown sugar steamed bun? Times are really good now—nostalgic hardship nostalgia is trending? I never thought white flour buns could taste like coarse bread.”

“And this is…”

As Master Zhou’s words grew sharper—evolving from pure sarcasm into outright pastry criticism—Qin Huai could feel his anger level steadily rising, only one step away from a volcanic eruption.

Terrified, Qin Huai quickly stepped back to maintain distance, afraid of being caught in the indiscriminate AOE attack.

Zhao Cheng’an, on the other hand, stood perfectly still, experienced and unfazed, continuing to eat whatever he liked.

Qin Huai also kept eating—chewing on that overly sweet mung bean cake. Honestly, there was a reason many apprentices here remained apprentices and never qualified to sell pastries.

If these were actually sold, it would ruin the reputation of Zhiwei Ju. Master Zhou’s words were harsh, but they weren’t wrong. This mung bean cake was so sweet it felt like a special product for hypoglycemia patients—one bite and you could practically run two kilometers from the sugar rush.

Compared to these apprentices, Su Qian’s skills were unquestionably top-tier.

“Zhao… Master Zhao…”

“Just call me Zhao Cheng’an. Didn’t Master say we’re equals? No need for formal titles.” Zhao Cheng’an grinned.

“Zhao Cheng’an,” Qin Huai adapted quickly, “I’ve got a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“You said Master Zhou only comes to guide apprentices when he’s in a good mood. Why do I feel like he actually comes out when he’s unhappy with Su Qian’s skills, just to vent and regain balance by looking at worse pastries, so he can go back and continue teaching Su Qian?”

Zhao Cheng’an’s eyes widened in shock, then he looked at Qin Huai with admiration.

“You’ve got it,” he whispered. “I think even my senior brother and sister haven’t realized that. I actually think the same thing—but I don’t dare ask.”

Qin Huai continued eating the mung bean cake. Though it was too sweet, it was still the most acceptable item among all the apprentices’ work.

At least this one only had the problem of being too sweet. The others… only had one thing right: being edible.

After tasting his way through everything, Qin Huai deeply understood Boss Su’s intentions. Whether it was the apprentices previously sent to Huang Ji or the batch sent to Yunzhong Canteen, they were all genuinely excellent or elite trainees.

The ordinary apprentices here were simply too ordinary.

“Does Zhiwei Ju not have a strict standard for recruiting apprentices?” Qin Huai asked from the depths of his soul.

“There used to be, but it’s been relaxed in recent years,” Zhao Cheng’an explained. “It’s hard to recruit apprentices now. You know how tough culinary training is, and apprentices need to be young.”

“These days, unlike before, those who really start learning cooking from childhood usually come from culinary families—like Tan Weian. People like me are rare. Back then, if a kid didn’t study well, parents would send them here to suffer. Now there are other ways to ‘suffer.’”

“Since fewer people are willing to learn cooking, good talent is rare. So standards were lowered. As long as you have some basics, are willing to endure hardship, and pass basic screening, you can become an apprentice. Those who are too poor in skill get eliminated quickly anyway.”

“That’s why it’s hard to find disciples now. You know my glorious record, right? A genius wild disciple like me hasn’t appeared in over ten years. Now whenever a good seed appears, the master chefs fight over them. Luckily I’m not old enough to take disciples yet—otherwise I’d be unbeatable already.”

Qin Huai: …Are you saying Zhiwei Ju literally “fights” for apprentices?

They continued eating their way through the kitchen. Gradually, the pastries started improving.

Qin Huai realized Master Zhou’s teaching order had a pattern. He started with the worst apprentices because his patience was highest at the beginning. Facing truly terrible work didn’t immediately trigger him. And as he progressed, the process of gradual improvement helped train his mentality—his “cultivation of the mind.”

Qin Huai could only rationalize it this far.

—

Over the next few days, Qin Huai’s routine remained the same.

At 9 a.m., he arrived at Zhiwei Ju for breakfast, eating while watching Master Zhou scold Su Qian in increasingly creative ways every day.

Then came the morning meeting—gossip, verbal sparring between master chefs, and lunch.

After lunch, once Master Zhou finished his “guidance session,” Qin Huai began his pastry tour. According to Zhao Cheng’an, Master Zhou rarely guided ordinary apprentices—once a month would already be a lot.

But ever since Qin Huai arrived, it had basically become a daily event. Every day at lunch, Master Zhou would go through all the apprentices and roast them one by one, refining both his language and mindset—his “cultivation.”

Afternoons were relatively free. Master Zhou would sometimes make pastries he personally wanted to eat, like egg tarts and mango mille-feuille.

This was Qin Huai’s happiest time of day. Not only could he watch Master Zhou make pastries, he could immediately eat them once they were done. He basically achieved unlimited egg tart consumption—Qin Huai ate first, and whatever was left was sold afterward.

And Qin Huai himself basically didn’t cook at all. Just watching. Just eating. From morning till night, nonstop. Occasionally, when his mouth got a break, he would also help Zhou Yan taste her white jade shrimp rolls, to the point where he seriously considered taking a day off.

Not for anything else—just to let his stomach rest.

This pace of eating was getting hard to handle.

Of course, besides pastries, Qin Huai also consumed a lot of gossip. Most of his day was actually spent watching Zhao Cheng’an and the others cook.

The three of them were all highly skilled pastry chefs. Wang Jiayi was a true master chef, Zhou Yan could independently develop new pastries, and even Zhao Cheng’an—who was considered the least impressive of the three—still produced flawless work.

Qin Huai judged his pastries to be consistently B-grade, just short of A-grade. Even his best work in laminated pastries didn’t quite reach that level.

But that was already exceptional. Qin Huai felt Zhao Cheng’an was only one step away from A-grade pastries—a personal style.

Yes—personal style.

In the past few days, Qin Huai had not been doing anything except watching, but that didn’t mean he gained nothing. Wang Jiayi, Zhou Yan, and Zhao Cheng’an basically represented three stages of a pastry chef evolving into a master chef.

Their characteristics were also very distinct.

Wang Jiayi had already firmly established his own personal style. Zhou Yan was still in the exploration stage. As for Zhao Cheng’an—he had none at all.

It wasn’t that Qin Huai could say Zhao Cheng’an’s pastries were bad, or that there was anything fundamentally wrong with them. In terms of steps and details, Zhao Cheng’an’s work was flawless—perfect, like something copied directly from a textbook.

But that was exactly the problem.

It was too rigid.

People often said Qin Huai had strong imitation skills in pastry-making, but Qin Huai felt that he was imitating the style of the pastry chef. Zhao Cheng’an, on the other hand, was like someone copying answers straight from a textbook.

The problem was—pastry-making didn’t even have a single correct answer.

And yet Zhao Cheng’an somehow had a “textbook” to copy from. No one knew where he got it from.

Whatever he made, it always came out in the same state. To put it abstractly, his pastries had no soul.

Strangely enough, Zhao Cheng’an himself didn’t seem to care. Out of the three, he was actually the most individualistic person—but his pastries were the least individualistic. He worked diligently every day, never slacked off like Tan Weian, yet his results never changed. There was no progress, and no visible room for improvement.

As for Su Qian…

An elite apprentice, but honestly just too mediocre to even mention.

After a few days of purely observing, Qin Huai had become fairly familiar with Zhao Cheng’an and the others. He could understand their daily gossip and even occasionally join in the conversation—he was already well integrated.

Qin Huai felt that this “pure observation” phase wouldn’t last much longer.

Although Master Zhou never explained why Qin Huai was only watching and not cooking, and Qin Huai also wisely didn’t ask, he already had a vague answer in his mind.

As Master Zhou once said, sometimes learning doesn’t require doing—watching alone is enough to understand.

Three living examples were right in front of him. Qin Huai wasn’t blind.

—

Another afternoon of pure observation.

Wang Jiayi was still making pastries with a strong personal style. Zhou Yan was, as usual, working on her white jade shrimp rolls. Zhao Cheng’an was once again experimenting with anything he could get his hands on, showing off his “pastry pool.”

Qin Huai stood by, quietly watching, tasting Zhou Yan’s shrimp rolls, and chatting occasionally.

Zhao Cheng’an was currently making cage-pattern palace lantern buns.

His technique was extremely precise. As a favored disciple of Master Zhou, his finger work was excellent and his aesthetic sense was solid. While his rigidity could be a flaw in other pastries, it actually became an advantage here—because this type of pastry relied heavily on shape and structure.

Using small tweezers, Zhao Cheng’an clipped patterns into the bun like a machine engraving ornaments.

“Finger technique isn’t about tricks,” Zhao Cheng’an said. “It’s about practice. Most importantly, steady hands.”

“Qin Huai, if you want to learn finger technique, you’ve come to the right place. With your talent—comparable to mine—I believe in at most two or three years, you’ll master it.”

Qin Huai: “…Is there a possibility that I’m just here to observe, and I’m not even from Zhiwei Ju?”

Two or three years? The elderly diners at Yunzhong Canteen would cry themselves unconscious at the entrance of Zhiwei Ju.

Zhao Cheng’an just grinned.

“So what? No one says you can’t come to Zhiwei Ju for two or three years of exchange training. I’m sure Boss Su would agree.”

Qin Huai was about to respond when Zhou Yan handed over a freshly mixed filling.

“Xiao Qin, try this batch and see if it’s better.”

He took a small taste.

“It still feels a bit off,” Qin Huai said after thinking. “But it’s probably not seasoning—it feels more like the ingredients themselves are off.”

Zhou Yan frowned. “Ingredients… so should we increase or reduce something? Tch, Old Third, come try this too.”

Before Qin Huai could continue, Wang Jiayi spoke up.

“Yanzi, don’t be too anxious. Your biggest problem is impatience. It’s like a kid learning piano—only a few lessons in, it’s normal not to be good. What’s the rush?”

“Xiao Qin, don’t you think so? Finger technique can’t be learned in a day or two. What Old Third said is right—steady hands, careful mind, and time.”

“If you’re willing, staying at Zhiwei Ju a bit longer wouldn’t be bad. Sometimes even Xiao Tan can’t keep up with our conversation, but you can.”

Zhao Cheng’an immediately chimed in: “Exactly! I’ve always said Qin Huai should set up his cooking station next to ours. The four of us can cook and chat together. But seriously, you’ve been watching for five days now—when are you going to start cooking? Finger technique can’t be learned just by watching.”

“I—”

Before Qin Huai could finish, Zhou Yan cut in again.

“No need to rush. Master must have arrangements. It’s good for Xiao Qin to observe more and adjust. The future is long.”

Qin Huai: …?

What do you mean “the future is long”?

And the only reason I can keep up with your conversations is because you never actually give me a chance to speak!

Just as he finally found an opening to talk, Master Zhou returned.

Qin Huai knew—this meant it was time for his most anticipated part of the day: afternoon egg tart feast.

He instinctively stepped forward, but Master Zhou didn’t lead him elsewhere. Instead, he walked straight toward him.

“Xiao Qin, how has the observation been these past few days?”

This was the first time Master Zhou had asked him about it directly.

“Pretty… pretty good,” Qin Huai said. “I feel like I’ve learned something, but I’m not sure if it’s what you wanted me to learn.”

Master Zhou didn’t answer directly. He just smiled.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

“I’ve already asked Xiao Tan to assist you. Didn’t you ask me before when you could start making pastries?”

“I think now is a good time. You’ve observed for so many days—you must have gained something.”

“So…”

“Let’s make a batch of egg tarts.”

Qin Huai: ???

Egg tarts?

Master Zhou—I don’t specialize in laminated pastry!

I came here to learn finger technique, remember?!