AGN -Chapter 443 Other People’s Kids

After deciding on his recent direction and goals, Qin Huai officially entered full-on proficiency grinding mode.

Grinding proficiency was actually very simple. It only required one word—

Grinding.

There was no need to think about whether a pastry had good cost performance, whether it was difficult, whether there was market demand, or whether it was suitable for mass production. Those were things to consider only when targeting specific proficiencies or trying to make money. For someone like Qin Huai, who needed to level up every proficiency because none of them were maxed out yet, anything could be used for grinding.

As long as Qin Huai liked it, he could make whatever he wanted. Even stir-frying two plates of vegetables beside the stove counted—heat control proficiency was still proficiency, after all.

Faced with Qin Huai’s attitude and methods toward grinding proficiency, Master Zhou was extremely appreciative and supportive.

Every master chef had once been an apprentice. Every master chef had gone through periods of hard training and confusion. And precisely because they had experienced it themselves, they understood how painful intense practice could be.

When a person truly goes all out and starts grinding like crazy, what they’re grinding no longer matters. Cost performance and profit no longer matter either. The important thing is whether they can persist, and whether they have the interest and motivation to keep going.

At times like this, every master chef turns into an overly doting parent, adopting the mentality of “as long as the kid is happy, let them do whatever they want.”

Of course, Master Zhou’s mentality only applied to Qin Huai, not Zhao Cheng’an.

Qin Huai voluntarily chose the grind. Zhao Cheng’an, on the other hand, was purely dragged into it against his will—so much so that Qin Huai’s intensity had him questioning life itself. Even the way he looked at Qin Huai changed into:

Bro, are you seriously this capable of grinding?

I knew you worked hard. Tan Wei’an hinted at it before. But he never said you were THIS insane.

Are you Gu Li or something?

No, wait, brother—you’re even crazier than Gu Li. Gu Li only comes in after seven in the morning to make pastries. Sure, he leaves late and works long hours, but starting at seven still barely counts as human.

But you? You started at seven, then somehow it became six, then five. Are you even human anymore?

Do you realize that because of you, the servers at the side window had to specifically arrange an early shift? They now open for business at six every morning. Zhiweiju has spent decades firmly sticking to the tradition of selling pastries starting at 9:30 a.m., and you shattered it completely. You turned our premier white-dough restaurant into a breakfast shop.

Do you know the last time Zhiweiju sold breakfast was over thirty years ago, before the restaurant restructured?

Brother, stop grinding already. Starting work at seven is already torture. Five in the morning is impossible. Haven’t you noticed my master is pretending to be dead? Even he can only manage to come in a little after six!

Qin Huai, meanwhile, had absolutely no idea about Zhao Cheng’an’s inner screams.

He was simply happily making pastries every day.

As a breakfast shop chef who disliked waking up early, when Qin Huai had still been working at the Qin Family Breakfast Shop, what he truly hated was waking up at one or two in the morning to prepare breakfast. But waking up around four or five? That was still acceptable.

The “early rising” of a breakfast chef and the “early rising” of a pastry chef were completely different things.

Even after becoming a pastry chef, once Qin Huai truly began grinding and farming basic proficiency, he realized that deep down, he was still a breakfast chef.

If he was going to become the king of grinders anyway—mass-producing basic pastries to crazily level all kinds of proficiencies—then of course he would do it inside his comfort zone.

White steamed buns, fermented rice steamed buns, meat buns, vegetable buns, soup dumplings, rice cakes, sponge cakes, red date cakes, plain noodles, hand-pulled noodles, hand-rolled noodles, shumai, wontons, steamed dumplings—an unlimited breakfast supply that completely occupied Zhiweiju.

Even when donkey rolls and pea cakes were mixed in, customers would still exclaim:

“Holy crap, some ridiculously high-end stuff got mixed into the breakfast lineup! Aren’t these actual pastries?!”

So what exactly was Qin Huai’s comfort zone?

Breakfast.

Little Chef Qin had gone out into the world for over a year and returned… still a breakfast shop chef. In a way, that counted as staying true to his original aspirations.

As for Zhiweiju’s regular customers—especially those who lived nearby and could conveniently stop by for breakfast every morning…

Their happiness had reached the point where they could laugh themselves awake in their dreams every night.

On the first day Qin Huai made fermented rice buns and plain steamed buns, everyone merely thought Zhiweiju had hired a master chef who liked making basic pastries.

At that time, the customers still hadn’t realized what was about to happen. They still classified Qin Huai’s buns as pastries.

Some experienced regulars, familiar with Zhiweiju’s operating style, even assumed that the new master chef was simply teaching apprentices on his first day at work, which was why he had made so many simple, fast-selling buns as demonstrations.

The master chefs at Zhiweiju had always released pastries very randomly. They didn’t have fixed KPIs and mainly focused on teaching apprentices. Most days were spent leisurely relaxing and slacking off, only showing off their true skills during major occasions such as large business receptions or official events.

As the number one white-dough restaurant, Zhiweiju was like many high-end establishments: many master chefs’ signature pastries required advance reservations and were extremely expensive.

And only ordinary master chefs’ pastries could be reserved in advance. For someone like Master Zhou—the undisputed number one in white-dough cuisine—even having connections wasn’t enough to get a reservation, because Master Zhou usually couldn’t be bothered to make them.

Compared to properly working regular hours, Master Zhou preferred “random drops.”

This sales model had trained Zhiweiju’s customers into treating purchases like opening loot boxes. As long as they had money in their pockets, they’d stop by to buy something whenever they passed by.

What if they hit the jackpot?

If they did, it was pure profit.

So when Qin Huai mass-produced buns on his first day, although customers sighed that they’d actually feel motivated to go to work if they could eat buns like these every day, nobody genuinely believed life would become that wonderful.

What were they thinking? A master chef at Zhiweiju giving up leisurely days and high-priced exquisite pastries just to make buns for them every single day? As if something that good could happen. Working had clearly made them stupid.

Stop dreaming. Even dreams weren’t that good.

And then…

Their dreams came true.

Although buying buns still felt like opening loot boxes, the drop rate for rare items was absurdly high.

As long as you arrived early enough to catch the first batch every morning, the jackpot rate was practically one hundred percent.

This new master chef liked waking up early.

And he liked making breakfast.

After figuring out this trait of Qin Huai, a strange phenomenon appeared at Zhiweiju—

The time when long lines formed outside the window was no longer the afternoon, but five or six in the morning.

The once laid-back, Buddhist-style customers who casually opened loot boxes whenever they felt like it had also become competitive. They started waking up early to queue, and every single person standing in line wore the expression:

Today, I WILL hit the jackpot.

Regarding this, Boss Su simply said:

“…Forget it. As long as Little Chef Qin and the customers are happy.”

As a boss with strong business sense, Boss Su knew very well that the profit margins of white-dough pastries were limited. Even if Zhiweiju became the number one white-dough restaurant, relying purely on pastry sales could never make as much money as top-tier red-kitchen restaurants.

Because of this, Boss Su was very tolerant toward the master chefs at Zhiweiju. They could make whatever they wanted and indulge in any quirky habits or hobbies they pleased. Whether they earned more or less money didn’t matter much to him.

The master chefs staying at Zhiweiju earned prestige and reputation for the restaurant.

Making money was the boss’s responsibility.

Boss Su had long set his sights on Zheng Da’s business model. He wanted to cooperate with Zheng Da to launch Zhiweiju-branded pastries, modifying the recipes for industrial production and entering the mid-to-low-end and even mid-to-high-end pastry market.

Zheng Da was the most successful and professional businessman in this field. Boss Su had immense confidence in Zheng Da’s abilities and judgment. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have introduced his daughter to Zheng Siyuan for a matchmaking date.

Back then, Boss Su had arranged the meeting with the thought that if the relationship worked out, the two families would become even closer, making future cooperation smoother.

And then…

Whenever Boss Su thought about it now, countless swear words surged through his mind.

%＆@★#*!

“Zheng Siyuan, what are you acting so arrogant for? You think you’re amazing? Are you the number one young-generation white-dough chef or something? And now you’re looking down on my daughter? So what if my daughter’s skills aren’t good enough? I taught her myself! Just because she isn’t good now doesn’t mean she won’t improve in the future! Did you really have to say it so harshly? What do you mean her fundamentals have problems?”

“How do my daughter’s fundamentals have problems? And what nonsense about her understanding of pastries being flawed? Your understanding of pastries is flawed!”

At one point, Boss Su was so furious he wanted to either terminate the partnership entirely or hire two masked thugs to beat Zheng Siyuan up.

Of course, that was only a fantasy. For the sake of Zhiweiju’s future development, Boss Su could only curse Zheng Da out in his Moments posts before privately messaging him again to discuss the details of their cooperation.

In the office, Boss Su was reviewing next week’s work schedule.

“What time did Little Chef Qin arrive in the kitchen this morning?” Su Qi asked.

“I checked the security cameras. 5:05 a.m.,” the manager of Zhiweiju replied.

“If that’s the case, then assigning only one server to the window shift in the morning isn’t enough. Arrange for two next week, and move their shifts earlier too. Starting at 5:50 is too late—5:30 would be better. Give those two some extra bonuses as well.”

“And for the kitchen, find a few apprentices who are observant, quick with their hands, and skilled at making tea. Have them match Little Chef Qin’s schedule and come in early every day. Right now he’s grinding… basic proficiency, so he doesn’t really need assistants while making pastries, but we should still have people ready in case he suddenly needs help someday.”

“Boss Su, Little Chef Qin actually already has an assistant. That An Youyou he brought over arrives even earlier than he does. I checked the cameras—she got here at four in the morning today to prep ingredients.”

Su Qi: ?

There’s another monster?

What time did the employees at Qin Huai’s community cafeteria start work every morning? How had Qin Huai convinced someone to work that early? No wonder he specifically brought this employee with him after coming to Zhiweiju—she was clearly an elite warrior!

“We should arrange a few people on our side too. Don’t let Little An overwork herself,” Su Qi said. “Focus on finding one who’s especially good at tea-making. Is Little Chef Qin still making pastries right now?”

“He is,” the manager nodded. “He’s currently making plain steamed buns. The kitchen output hasn’t stopped all day. I’ve also been observing recently—every afternoon between three and four, Little Chef Qin makes plain steamed buns. I think it’s become his habit.”

Su Qi nodded and continued reading the schedule.

Actually, making plain steamed buns every afternoon at three or four wasn’t Qin Huai’s habit—it was Shi Dadan’s habit.

Every afternoon between three and four, Shi Dadan would line up at Zhiweiju to buy the staple food he planned to eat that day. Through observation, Qin Huai had confirmed that Shi Dadan truly wasn’t lying: compared to fermented rice buns, he genuinely preferred plain steamed buns.

That was just how honest—and how obsessed with staple foods—Dangkang was.

In the kitchen, Qin Huai was happily kneading dough.

As Qin Huai gradually moved his morning start time earlier and earlier, his afternoon quitting time also shifted earlier.

Qin Huai wasn’t Gu Li. He couldn’t work a minimum of fourteen hours a day. For Qin Huai, ten to twelve hours was already the limit.

He would arrive early in the morning, rest for an hour or two at noon, casually make a few things in the afternoon to reinforce his skills, and then end the day happily.

Of course, this “happy day” applied only to Qin Huai.

Zhao Cheng’an was practically being ground to death by him.

Zhao Cheng’an felt that the resentment inside him right now could nourish ten Evil Sword Immortals. If he couldn’t come up with a reasonable excuse within the next two months to go out and have fun for a week, he might make a decision that violated the ancestors’ teachings—

He might betray his master’s sect, quit being a chef for a week to go play around, and then come back afterward.

And then get beaten to death by his master.

But right now Zhao Cheng’an felt that being beaten to death was a future problem. Playing first and dying later actually sounded pretty good.

After making pastries until his eyes went blank, Zhao Cheng’an stared fixedly at Qin Huai, who was still fully focused on kneading dough, and asked from the depths of his soul:

“Qin Huai… don’t you get tired?”

“I’m okay,” Qin Huai replied. “Your arms sore?”

“I’m not talking about physical exhaustion.” Zhao Cheng’an’s face was numb with despair. “We’ve worked for years already. Making pastries every day isn’t enough to physically tire us out. I mean mentally—don’t you feel burned out?”

“Burned out?” Qin Huai looked up at him and instead saw exhaustion written all over Zhao Cheng’an’s face. “Why would I feel burned out? I’m grinding proficiency right now. Watching my proficiency levels rise every day fills me with motivation.”

Zhao Cheng’an: …

I truly have nothing to say to a lunatic like you.

Damn it, why am I not insane too? If I could also imagine some game system and see numerical stats, maybe I wouldn’t feel so dead inside right now.

Suddenly, Zhao Cheng’an understood a little why Qin Huai’s brain seemed broken. At this level of workload, it was actually hard not to become mentally strange. Zhao Cheng’an even found himself slightly envious that Qin Huai’s brain had problems.

“You’ve seriously never thought about taking a break? Zhiweiju actually gives us days off. Four days a month,” Zhao Cheng’an whispered temptingly, like a devil.

“I don’t need a break right now,” Qin Huai said. “To be accurate, I’m actually in a bit of a hurry. There are people waiting for me back in Shan City. And the longer I stay away, the more likely the uncles and aunties from our residential complex are to come over and buy houses.”

“Plus, my little sister will be on summer vacation soon. I should really stay nearby and keep an eye on her tutoring. Otherwise, she’ll definitely get too wild…”

“So before mid-July—or at the latest before August—I want to achieve a major overall improvement. Even if I can’t push a specific skill to Master level yet.”

“Don’t you think my buns have become more standardized lately?” Qin Huai asked.

“Don’t you think my master has been looking at me with increasing disgust lately?” Zhao Cheng’an shot back.

Qin Huai: ?

Zhao Cheng’an only wanted to raise his head to the heavens and howl before letting two streams of tears fall down his face.

“For all these years, I was always the ‘other people’s child.’ I never knew the suffering of having another ‘other people’s child’ living next door.”

“The me from previous years truly deserved death!”

Qin Huai: …

Qin Huai didn’t know what to say, so he forcefully changed the topic.

“I heard something. All the paintings from the exhibition we visited last time were sold. Apparently two buyers bought out the entire collection.”

“I don’t know if it’s just because I don’t understand art or what, but do student exhibitions really have such high sales rates nowadays? Are they really that valuable as investments? Did I buy too few back then?”

Zhao Cheng’an: …

Without saying a word, Zhao Cheng’an simply buried his head and continued making pastries.

There was no way he was going to tell Qin Huai that the two buyers were actually himself and Boss Su’s daughter.

Although Zhao Cheng’an admitted that buying all those paintings ultimately hadn’t helped him at all—he still hadn’t achieved enlightenment—seeing that Boss Su’s daughter also failed to achieve enlightenment made him feel much better inside.

And once he thought about it that way, he felt even better.

Sure enough, happiness really did come from comparison.

Hahahahaha—Boss Su’s daughter bought eight more paintings than he did!