AGN -Chapter 457 Yam Cake

After leaving the dream realm, Qin Huai remained immersed in shock for a long time, unable to recover his composure.

Xia Murui? Xia Sheng turned out to be Xia Murui!

If it had been a name like Xia Yi, Xia Er, Xia San, Xia Si—common enough names—Qin Huai could still have dismissed it as coincidence, just a case of identical names. But Xia Murui was not only a rare name to begin with, he was also a culinary expert, and everything about his era and age lined up perfectly.

Qin Huai was already used to seeing people who had long passed away inside the dreams of various spirits. But this time, he had seen someone still alive—a person who, in the dream, was a teenage boy, but in reality was already a frail elderly man in his nineties.

He could hardly put his feelings into words. Even though he wasn’t the person involved, he still felt deeply shaken and emotional. As merely an observer, he already felt the approaching “century-long reunion” was something so thrilling and inspiring.

Even if, in reality, the two sides of this reunion might not even recognize each other—Zhao Cheng’an had gone through who-knows-how-many reincarnations and had long forgotten his first life, and Xia Murui would also never recognize the Zhao Cheng’an whose appearance, personality, and even name had completely changed.

But that didn’t matter. Someone knew what kind of reunion this truly was.

Qin Huai suddenly felt a strong desire to see the final dream of Zhao Cheng’an. Only after witnessing all of Zhao Cheng’an’s dreams could he understand what his obsession as a failed “mayfly tribulation” truly was.

As Luo Jun and Shi Dadan had said, the purpose of a mayfly’s tribulation was failure. If Zhao Cheng’an was meant to fail, then as his friend, Qin Huai should not interfere too much in his tribulation.

But if Zhao Cheng’an’s failure was merely an accident—as Shi Dadan had also said—then things were different. Although most mayflies failed their tribulations on purpose to wander the mortal world and experience life, there were also extremely rare cases of successful ascension.

The tribulation of spirits was never fixed. Trying to judge them by common logic often led nowhere, because none of them followed common logic.

Luo Jun refused to die even after knowing he had failed, torturing himself in the mortal world.

Wen Yao, a fish spirit, shattered her dao heart and committed suicide by jumping into the sea.

Even the best example of success, Kang, once failed due to a friend’s death, but later succeeded in a second life through his own efforts.

The divine bird Luanniao, despite already succeeding in its tribulation, chose to sacrifice itself for Chen Huihong, becoming her second support in life.

And some muddled plant spirits didn’t even realize they had failed their tribulation until the moment before death.

Having already seen so many bizarre failures and successes, meeting another mayfly who truly wanted to succeed didn’t seem so strange anymore.

Qin Huai sat quietly in his room for over ten minutes, digesting everything and calming himself down. Then he opened the game interface to check the newly obtained recipes.

Name: Zhao Cheng’an
Species: Mayfly

Status: ???

Dreams: 2/3
Recipes: [Rice Cake], [Red Egg], [Yam Cake] (click for details)
Gift: None

Qin Huai clicked on the yam cake recipe.

[Yam Cake – A+ Grade]

Creator: Chen Qiusheng

Dish Details: As the former second-in-command of Taifeng Tower and a famous chef in Beiping, Chen Qiusheng was well known for his “red-cooked dishes.” Few people knew that, for a somewhat slow-witted apprentice who refused to formally become his disciple, Chen Qiusheng had secretly spent years practicing white pastries. The yam cake was one of his results.

For the eater Chen Sheng, although he felt Chen Qiusheng’s pastries were not as good as Jiang Chengde’s, they were still the second-best pastries in the world—though he never told his master this.

If the pastry bears the eater’s name, its taste becomes even better. After all, who could refuse a yam cake specially made for them?

Daily production limit: (0/555)

After reading the details, Qin Huai could only feel that Chen Qiusheng was probably exhausted raising three children.

His biological son was weak and costly but sensible. His apprentice was obedient and easy to teach. Zhao Cheng’an had skill and was generally well-behaved—but his brain was… somewhat questionable.

The poor Chen master really had it rough.

Qin Huai messaged Zhao Cheng’an asking when he would return. Zhao Cheng’an replied that they would finish dinner before coming back, and asked whether Qin Huai wanted to join them or eat on his own, or if he should bring something back. Qin Huai said there was no need and that he would order takeout.

Then Qin Huai happily started watching the yam cake video tutorial.

The tutorial was the entire process he had already seen in the kitchen before. Having observed it closely once, watching the close-up version now gave him new insights. Chen Qiusheng’s style was completely different from Jiang Chengde’s.

Jiang Chengde relied on overwhelming skill—pure numerical dominance. Ordinary pastries required no technique; he could just crush through them.

Chen Qiusheng, however, lacked that level of raw power, but had his own style.

He was gentle.

That matched his personality perfectly. Chen Qiusheng was inherently a warm and patient person. Someone like that would naturally speak gently when buying a servant child at the city outskirts, or quietly accept Zhao Cheng’an’s bold self-recommendation even if reluctant.

Even when Zhao Cheng’an casually said he expected Chen Qiusheng’s son to support him in the future, Chen Qiusheng only smiled without responding—clearly taking it as implicit acceptance.

He treated his own son like treasure, and also carefully guided two unrelated children with patience and attention.

That temperament was fully reflected in his pastries, especially in yam cake—a soft, gentle dessert by nature.

Every step was meticulous, slow, and careful. Perhaps because it was originally meant for children, the final product was delicate, soft, beautiful, and comforting—just looking at it made one feel that the chef must be a very kind person.

This was the most comfortable tutorial Qin Huai had ever watched.

Not “comfortable” in the sense of flashy skill, but comfortable in its entire atmosphere and rhythm. Just by watching, he could imagine how Chen Qiusheng usually taught Xia Sheng and Zhao Cheng’an.

And he couldn’t help but think again: Zhao Cheng’an was incredibly lucky. From the very beginning, he met such a good teacher who guided him with such patience.

And yet he still refused to acknowledge Chen Qiusheng as his master, thinking his skills were inferior to Jiang Chengde’s.

Zhao Cheng’an, you really are something.

Qin Huai got so absorbed watching that he forgot to order food entirely, continuing until Zhao Cheng’an returned.

When Zhao Cheng’an came back, he was carrying a pile of random things:

fridge magnets, ancient-style coins, a bronze hairpin that looked like a replica, sour plum soup, fried yam cake rolls, pea flour cakes, Aiwowo, and two bottles of cola clearly bought from a convenience store downstairs.

A truly fruitful haul.

After the afternoon outing, Qin Huai had not gone with the others, and Zhao Cheng’an was still excitedly sharing gossip.

“Qin Huai, you really missed out by not coming with us this afternoon. You have no idea—on the way there, two restaurant owners started arguing. I’ve forgotten exactly which two restaurants they were from, but that doesn’t matter. At first, they were both blasting Ling Guangzhao. Then as they argued, they started disagreeing with each other, and it escalated into them cursing each other out. In the end, they even began exposing each other’s dirty laundry. It was amazing.”

“Stuff like how they manipulated menus in their early days, sold low-quality goods as premium, cheated customers, secretly took commissions—wow, wow. A simple business war really just needs simple exposure of each other’s scandals,” Zhao Cheng’an said excitedly.

Qin Huai wasn’t interested in gossip. He just stared at Zhao Cheng’an silently, which made Zhao Cheng’an feel a bit uneasy. He shivered and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m fine,” Qin Huai said. “I just suddenly got curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“Do you ever dream at night that you’re a very skilled thief?”

Zhao Cheng’an: “?”

“A thief? Why would I dream I’m a thief? And how skilled are we talking?”

“The kind who sneaks out of the city overnight to steal from human traffickers outside the city—stealing everything from pork head meat to offal, bran, black beans, biscuits, steamed white buns, not missing a single thing. Then he ends up filling two or three sacks, carefully selecting one sack of goods to carry back into the city, stealing the whole night long,” Qin Huai said.

Zhao Cheng’an looked completely confused and complained, “Does this thief have brain damage? Your setting sounds like ancient times. Why steal from human traffickers outside the city anyway? And why steal cheap stuff? If you’re going to steal, steal from rich households—gold, silver, jade, jewelry. Just one or two pieces and you could retire.”

Indeed—spirits couldn’t even empathize with their own past lives.

“Then let me ask you something else,” Qin Huai continued. “Do you ever dream that you once had a very good master who taught you carefully, and his skills were decent—about on par with Chef Zhou—but you looked down on him. You preferred another master whose skills were at least twice as good, and you wanted to apprentice under him instead?”

Zhao Cheng’an immediately retorted, “Where did you even hear that story? That’s ridiculous. Is that guy mentally ill? He already has such a good master teaching him and still isn’t satisfied? Always aiming higher and looking down on his teacher? Did he take the wrong medicine?”

“You went to Baobao Zhai this afternoon, didn’t you? Where did you hear this gossip? Which restaurant? Something this explosive—I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Just something I heard a long time ago,” Qin Huai said.

Hearing that it was old gossip, Zhao Cheng’an lost interest immediately. He spread out all the things he bought on the table and started tasting them one by one, criticizing the pastries as expected from street stalls.

“By the way, what’s tomorrow’s plan?” Qin Huai asked.

“We’re going to climb the Great Wall. But I asked around—most people don’t want to go, so it’ll probably be free activity,” Zhao Cheng’an said while drinking sour plum soup. “This tastes okay. Probably made with smoked preserved plums. Want a sip?”

Qin Huai shook his head. “If it’s free time, can I borrow Baobao Zhai’s kitchen to make pastries?”

Zhao Cheng’an: “??”

He was genuinely shocked now. His expression clearly said: I thought you were just a bit mentally off normally, but this is getting scary.

Are you okay? Aren’t we here to travel? To eat and relax? A paid vacation? Why are you thinking about making pastries again?

“I saw an old yam cake recipe online this afternoon. Thought it was interesting. I want to try making it,” Qin Huai said.

“Do you have anywhere you want to go tomorrow? If not, come to Baobao Zhai with me and make pastries.”

Zhao Cheng’an: “???”

The next day, 10 a.m.

When Tong Deyan saw Qin Huai, Zhao Cheng’an, and Ling Guangzhao all appearing in the back kitchen of Baobao Zhai at the same time, he felt like the world had gone mad.

Qin Huai showing up didn’t surprise him at all. In Tong Deyan’s eyes, Qin Huai was a diligent pastry chef—rich, purely passionate about pastries, almost spiritually detached from worldly impurities, highly emotionally intelligent, sweet-talking, and aside from being a little mentally unusual, basically flawless.

Nobody’s perfect. A few quirks were normal.

Zhao Cheng’an showing up was only barely acceptable. As Chef Zhou’s direct disciple, he had some reputation in culinary circles—after all, his master was the undisputed number one in white pastries.

Following the “family ugliness should not be exposed” principle, Zhao Cheng’an’s laziness hadn’t really spread widely. Tong Deyan had only heard vague rumors and didn’t know the details. Since Zhao Cheng’an came with Qin Huai, he assumed Qin Huai had dragged him here instead of going on some boring “field trip.”

Yes, boring field trip.

In Tong Deyan’s view, Ling Guangzhao’s idea of a “culinary exploration trip” the next day was absolutely ridiculous. What kind of chef goes on field trips? Just say you want to spend money and take people out to play—don’t dress it up so nicely.

And yet, the organizer didn’t even show up for his own event, and instead came to the kitchen to watch others cook.

Tong Deyan stared at Ling Guangzhao with obvious displeasure written all over his face.

Ling Guangzhao straightened his chest and raised his chin confidently as he spoke to Qin Huai:

“Chef Qin, what are you making today?”

“Yam cake,” Qin Huai said, already getting started.

Ling Guangzhao continued enthusiastically, “Yam cake is great! Perfect for this season—very nourishing. Chef Qin, you don’t like today’s field trip, right? Not interested in climbing the Great Wall? Actually, I think so too. Not sure who came up with that idea.”

“Are you staying in Beijing for long? I can arrange a personal tour guide for you—one-on-one service. We can take you around the Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven… even hutongs. The real culture is in the hutongs.”

“We also have many old pastry shops here. I can take you to experience them. Very unique.”

Qin Huai smiled. “Mr. Ling, no need to trouble yourself. I’ll only stay in Beijing until the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow Zhao Cheng’an and I are going to Fen Garden for dinner, so we already have plans.”

At the mention of Fen Garden, Ling Guangzhao immediately became interested.

“Oh, you’re going to Fen Garden? Perfect—I know their menu very well. I used to go there often before I went abroad, and I’m quite familiar with Chef Xia.”

Qin Huai’s eyes lit up. “You know Chef Xia? That’s perfect. We’re going there for the first time and were worried about the rules in case we upset him.”

“I heard Fen Garden is the top private kitchen in Beijing. Those places usually have many rules.”

Ling Guangzhao waved his hand. “Not Fen Garden. There are no rules there. The only rule is: if you pay, you’re the rule.”

“Let me tell you about Fen Garden…”