Chapter 17 You Call This a Bun?

Eight minutes later, the first batch of Five-Diced Buns came out of the steamer.

Under normal circumstances, Qin Huai didn’t recommend customers eat buns straight out of the steamer.

Not because they weren’t delicious—but because they were hot.

Scalding hot.

Every year, there were always a few stubborn customers who insisted on eating them fresh, only to end up hopping around like they were dancing with a bun in their mouth.

Old Man Xu clearly didn’t care. He didn’t even care about indigestion, let alone a little heat. The moment Huang Xi placed the bamboo steamer on the table, he reached out and grabbed one.

One bite—half the bun gone.

“Whoa,” he exclaimed.

Damn, that’s hot!

His first instinct was to spit it out. He opened his mouth—

—but couldn’t.

His tongue had already tasted it.

Fresh.

The bun skin was soft and tender. The inner layer had absorbed the juices from the filling, while the outer layer remained fluffy with a faint sweetness. The rich broth wrapped around the filling, carrying the tenderness of shrimp and the freshness of bamboo shoots. The smooth sea cucumber blended in perfectly, acting as a bridge—bringing together flavors of land and sea in a single bite.

The deliciousness spread from the tip of his tongue.

Old Man Xu couldn’t resist—he shrank his tongue and chewed again.

“Hiss—!”

Still scorching hot. Why the hell was this bun so hot?!

But…

It was so good!

He had always believed that “thin skin, generous filling” was the highest praise a bun could get. After all, how good could a bun really be?

No matter how tasty—it was still just a bun.

But now…

This is a bun?

Something this good is actually a bun?!

He kept chewing while hissing from the heat, steam escaping from his mouth. He didn’t want to spit it out, yet didn’t want to swallow either. After struggling for a moment, he finally gulped it down, took a sip of soy milk, and continued eating.

Two bites later, the bun was gone.

Old Man Xu let out a long, satisfied sigh, rubbed his stomach, stood up, and started toward the exit. After taking a couple of steps, he suddenly stopped and turned back.

“Young man—three more baskets!”

He walked straight to the cashier and paid, scanning the code with the confidence of someone flashing a premium card.

Ten minutes later—because Old Man Xu had delayed himself by eating five baskets—his jogging group stormed into the canteen in a fury and “captured” him right at Table No. 9.

“Xu Tuqiang!” the leading old man shouted.

Old Man Xu immediately stuffed a bun into his mouth. “On me.”

Then turned his head and shouted, “Another basket!”

The leading man instinctively took a bite, holding the bun as he said angrily, “Don’t try to—… huh?”

He looked at the bun.

Chewed twice.

Then, after a brief pause, started eating it on the spot.

The other old men: ?

Old Cao, what’s going on? We were waiting for you to deliver justice—why are you eating buns?

Two minutes later, the four men who had come to “punish” Xu Tuqiang sat at their own table, deliberately ignoring him, each ordering a few baskets of Three-Diced or Five-Diced Buns and eating while maintaining their “cold war.”

After Old Cao finished two buns and freed his mouth, he resumed his righteous scolding:

“Old Xu, you’re really something else. You’ve got a place like this in your neighborhood and you kept it from us!”

“Who kept it from you?” Xu Tuqiang said lazily, already full and sipping the last of his soy milk. “This place just opened today. Didn’t you see the flyers they were handing out the past couple of days?”

He let out a long burp.

“So… are we still running?”

“Running my foot,” Old Cao took a fierce bite of a Three-Diced Bun. “After eating this much, what running? Dismissed. We’ll run tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow—run first, then eat!”

Then Old Cao glanced at the prices on the menu and winced.

“Delicious, sure—but expensive! Thirty-five yuan for a bun, gone in two bites. Anyone would think we’re eating gold.”

“Gold is way more expensive,” Xu Tuqiang shot back mercilessly. “At least you’ve got something good to eat. Money is meant to be spent. Don’t know why you act like a miser all day. You’ve got eight figures in assets, and you’re ordering just two baskets of Three-Diced and one of Five-Diced? People might think you can’t afford more.”

Then he waved casually. “Miss, one more basket of Three-Diced and one of Five-Diced—pack them up. I’ll take them home for my wife to try.”

Provoked like that, Old Cao couldn’t hold back. He immediately added to his order.

Xu Tuqiang only had a wife at home—but Old Cao had a whole family: wife, son, daughter-in-law, and grandson. Five people—big eaters.

“Miss! Give me 18 baskets of Five-Diced Buns and 5 baskets of Three-Diced!” Old Cao shouted even louder.

Qin Huai in the kitchen: …

Is this how rich old men compete?

He’d seen people compare cars, watches, yachts—but comparing how many buns you buy? That was a first.

Ten minutes later, the group of old men left triumphantly, each carrying bags full of buns. Among them, Old Cao walked the proudest—after all, he had the biggest family, and his grandson alone could eat as much as three people.

The new employees arriving at the entrance were stunned to see customers already leaving with food in hand. They thought they had missed a notice about an earlier start time. On their very first day, they feared being late and losing pay.

Huang Xi calmly explained the situation and told them to quickly change and prepare for work.

The arrival of the old men had been unexpected, but since business had already started and staff were present, Huang Xi simply flipped the sign outside to “Open,” officially starting operations early.

At this hour, customer flow was still low. Most nearby office workers started at 9 a.m., so the real rush wouldn’t come until after 8.

After 6 a.m., a few customers trickled in through the front door. Some left after seeing there were no noodle soups; others thought the meat buns were cheap and bought a few to go.

As for the Three-Diced and Five-Diced Buns—because of their price, almost no one asked about them. Most people would gasp just from looking at the price tag. After all, this wasn’t a tourist spot—35 yuan for a single bun was beyond what most people considered reasonable.

Seeing the low traffic and knowing the rush hadn’t begun yet, Qin Huai dragged a small stool over and sat down, planning to slack off until 7.

This “work two hours, slack one hour” philosophy had always been his favorite.

Work two hours, slack one hour—double the happiness.

His slacking continued until 6:30.

Right on time, Chen Huihong and Chen Huihui entered through the inner door.

Chen Huihui wore her school uniform, her hair tied into twin ponytails with a pink bow, and a pearl-studded pink headband. With a pink backpack, she walked in cheerfully.

“Good morning, Brother Qin Huai!” she ran to the window and greeted him with a smile. “Are there bunny buns today?”

“Yes,” Qin Huai replied gently. “How many would Huihui like?”

“Two!” she held up two fingers. “Mom says eating too many sweets causes cavities, so I can only have two red bean buns.”

Qin Huai instinctively glanced at Chen Huihong.

Ever since learning that Chen Huihong was probably not human, his attitude toward her had become… complicated.

Not fear—just curiosity.

Curious about what she really was.

Over the past couple of days, Qin Huai had analyzed the situation. He believed that to unlock Chen Huihong’s “species,” he first needed to unlock her dreams. But how exactly to trigger those dreams—that part he still hadn’t figured out.

Last time, the dream seemed to appear after touching the animal-shaped buns Chen Huihong made. But he wasn’t sure whether it required touching her handmade pastries specifically, or simply interacting with her more.

The randomness was frustrating. After all, Chen Huihong rarely cooked. And the last time, it was Huihui who handed him the pastry—he couldn’t even tell whether the dream came from the mother or the daughter.

So Qin Huai decided to interact more with both of them, build rapport, and hopefully trigger another dream soon.

Meanwhile, Chen Huihong was looking at the menu. She pointed at the Five-Diced Bun.

“Is this from Guangling? I think I’ve had it before.”

As expected of a wealthy lady—knowledgeable.

“You’re absolutely right,” Qin Huai replied.

“I’ll take one basket of Five-Diced, one basket of Three-Diced, two bunny red bean buns, one bowl of mung bean soup, and one bowl of soy milk—just half a bowl for Huihui, she can’t drink too much.”

She led Huihui to Table No. 9.

At this time, the buns were ready quickly.

Small plates, bamboo steamers, and bowls were set neatly on the table—it looked quite abundant.

Chen Huihong took out her phone and snapped a photo first, then picked up a Five-Diced Bun and started eating.

Huihui, however, didn’t eat immediately. She held the bunny-shaped bun and examined it.

With its little eyes, the bunny bun looked lively and adorable. She loved it so much she didn’t even notice her mother had frozen in place.

Chen Huihong was genuinely stunned.

When she had previously eaten the Four-Joy Dumplings, she had simply thought Qin Huai’s cooking was impressive—almost comparable to the masters of famous pastry shops.

But this time…

She began to doubt her own memory.

Since when were Five-Diced Buns this delicious?

Could it be that her taste had been too picky in the past—even something this good didn’t impress her?

That didn’t seem right.

She looked at the bun—nothing special on the outside.

But one careful bite—

Absolutely astonishing.

She recalled Qin Huai’s earlier introduction:

A long-established family breakfast shop in a county town, well-known and beloved by locals.

Southern county towns are terrifying…

“Huihui,” Chen Huihong suddenly stopped her daughter just as she was about to eat. She pressed her hand down. “Wait.”

Huihui: ?

Chen Huihong raised her hand and gestured, ordering another basket of Five-Diced Buns.

“Eat this,” she pushed the steamer toward Huihui, her expression firm. “It’s delicious.”

Huihui picked up a bun, confused, and took a small bite.

…!

Usually a slow eater, Huihui suddenly opened her mouth wide and took another bite immediately.

“Mom,” she said happily after swallowing, “can we eat buns for lunch too? I don’t want to eat at the school cafeteria.”

Chen Huihong nodded firmly. “Yes!”

My dear daughter—your mother was thinking the same thing.