Chapter 30 Rather Than Being Proper, It’s Better to Let Yourself Run Free

“Slurp.”

“Slurp, slurp.”

“Slurp, slurp, slurp.”

The sound of people eating noodles filled the entire first-floor dining hall without pause.

When Qin Congwen was in a good mood while making noodles, he ended up making too much. Not only did he prepare enough for all the staff, he also made extra portions for all the members of the neighborhood committee.

And surprisingly, the result was quite something.

Although they weren’t fine white noodles and the texture was slightly lacking, the buckwheat-gray flour noodles were more chewy. Overall, they weren’t bad at all. For Qin Luo and Qin Huai, who had never eaten this kind of noodles before, they were especially novel and flavorful.

How should this flavor be described…

It was like a wealthy young master, accustomed to mountains of delicacies and gourmet dishes, suddenly trying wild vegetables for the first time—and unexpectedly liking them because of the novelty.

The stories in low-tier magazines weren’t entirely fictional.

“Dad, these noodles are really good! I want another bowl!” Qin Luo, always the best at cheering people on, quickly finished a bowl of noodles in a whirlwind.

Qin Congwen, who hadn’t enjoyed being the center of attention for many years, chuckled happily. “That’s right. Back then we ate gray flour because we didn’t have the conditions to eat white flour. If conditions allow, you can still make very good noodle dishes. Especially during the New Year—no matter how poor the family was, even if it was gray flour mixed with buckwheat flour, we’d still scrape together some brown sugar to make sweet buns so the family could have something sweet.”

Now full of confidence, Qin Congwen’s words became very convincing. Qin Luo believed him immediately, drooling as she held her bowl. “Dad, make me brown sugar buns tomorrow. I want white flour ones, not buckwheat.”

During this period, not only Qin Luo but even Qin Huai was getting tired of buckwheat buns.

Although the buckwheat buns were tied to Chen Huihui’s preferences, and their success depended on her taste, Qin Huai, as the one making them, couldn’t avoid tasting them. He had to evaluate their flavor to understand her preferences—so in theory, he had eaten even more of them than she had.

Not to mention that making buckwheat buns counted as overtime, which went against Qin Huai’s principle of getting off work at 12 noon. Eating the results of his overtime every day felt like consuming the product of his own labor in a full cycle.

With Qin Luo and Qin Huai both agreeing, Qin Congwen’s confidence surged. He believed his noodle-making skills had won over his children. For a moment, he even regretted giving up noodle-making earlier in life due to financial constraints. Otherwise, he might have already become a renowned noodle master in Quxian County.

Zhao Rong, who had long seen through the truth, silently continued eating her noodles without comment.

“By the way, Dad,” Qin Huai said after finishing the last sip of noodle soup, “since you’re going to use white flour to make brown sugar buns tomorrow, you can leave the remaining gray flour to me.”

“Huh?”

“I think mixing gray flour with buckwheat flour to make buns could have a unique flavor. I want to try it,” Qin Huai said.

Chen Huihui, who was buried in her noodles, froze: (=°Д°=) Eat more?!

In her mind, she cried out: Brother Qin Huai, can we take a break for a couple of days? She wanted fried chicken.

But she didn’t say anything. She silently swallowed her noodles and quietly shed a tear in her heart.

—

The next day, Qin Luo finally got her wish and ate white flour brown sugar buns.

Her conclusion was that her father’s pure white flour brown sugar buns weren’t as delicious as her brother’s buckwheat buns. In a sense, technique mattered more than ingredients. The success of the gray flour noodles was likely just because everyone had grown tired of buns and wanted a change.

Qin Congwen’s brown sugar buns were a complete flop, and Qin Huai’s gray-flour buckwheat buns also failed to gain Chen Huihui’s approval.

In terms of texture, the combination of gray flour and buckwheat flour added a unique flavor to the buns. The mix of refined and coarse grains might appeal to urban children who grew up eating refined food and were curious about coarse grains—but it still wasn’t Chen Huihui’s “dream bun.”

After switching flours still didn’t work, Qin Huai realized this task might be a long-term challenge—it couldn’t be rushed.

Since it couldn’t be rushed, he might as well let himself experiment freely.

When it came to “letting loose,” Qin Huai considered himself a professional.

Back when he was testing ingredients for the “Four Delicacies Dumplings,” he tried everything he could think of—bitter melon, eggplant, cucumber, green beans, fish, pork, duck, goose… anything available in the market had been stuffed into dumplings by him.

Between the siblings, one dared to cook, and the other dared to eat. The success of the Four Delicacies Dumplings today was built on Qin Luo enduring three beatings and eating over a month of experimental dark cuisine.

And unlike Chen Huihui, Qin Luo wasn’t a small-eater—she could really eat, and she dared to eat, possessing a fearless, self-sacrificing spirit in the name of food testing.

Considering Chen Huihui didn’t have such strong adaptability, Qin Huai made Qin Luo her advance tester.

Qin Luo would taste first; only if she nodded and confirmed it was edible would Chen Huihui be allowed to try.

As for how far one could go when “letting loose” in bun-making…

Qin Huai believed that as long as one dared, many things could be added during the dough-making process:

Eggs, duck eggs, goose eggs, quail eggs, ostrich eggs…

Milk, goat milk, camel milk…

White sugar, brown sugar, black sugar, maltose, maple syrup, honey…

Even honey alone could be further categorized into many types: multi-floral honey, longan honey, rapeseed honey, loquat honey, citrus honey, lychee honey, locust honey, jujube honey…

With careful control of quantities and combinations, in theory, “free-style” buckwheat buns could be taken to a level where Qin Luo would be turned into the shape of a bun herself.

Under this working mode, Qin Huai lived a structured life: off work at 12 noon, overtime starting at 2 PM, selling buns and pastries in the early period, and making buckwheat buns in the afternoon.

“Boss, what buns do you have today? Give me two good ones.”

At 4 PM, the “bun-hunting army” arrived at Yunzhong Canteen on time.

Ironically, buns weren’t originally on the menu, and Qin Huai never intended to sell them—since they were in the trial stage, prone to failure, and produced in small quantities, they weren’t suitable for sale.

But people wanted them anyway.

As everyone knows, buns are cheap and highly versatile.

People have different preferences: some like fresh buns, some like overnight ones, some like soft, some like chewy, some prefer bland, some sweet, and some even like buns reheated in a microwave until firm.

In theory, any steamed, unfilled flour-based food can be called a bun.

After Qin Huai “let himself go,” his buns were no longer limited to flour, water, and sugar. The variety of added ingredients made the aroma during steaming especially enticing.

The first resident of Yunzhong Community who entered the canteen intending to buy buns was drawn in by that aroma.

“Honestly, I wasn’t being gluttonous. The wheat aroma was just too strong. I happened to be hungry and thought coarse grain buns are good for health, so I bought a couple to try. They tasted good, so I shared a photo in the resident group—and that’s how it blew up.”

At 4 PM, Mr. Lou from Building A, Room 1701—who preferred not to reveal his name—had come to the canteen to accompany his grandson, escape the heat, and browse the air conditioning. He bought two buns out of curiosity, snapped a photo, and posted it in the group—an action he has regretted ever since.

Today, the unnamed Mr. Lou was also squeezed into the bun-buying crowd, working hard to ensure his grandson’s summer nutrition is balanced with more coarse grains.

“Luoluo, what buns are good today?” Wearing full gear—uniform, hat, mask, and gloves—An Youyou stood at the counter and asked Qin Luo.

Qin Luo, holding a bun and chewing, struggled to raise a finger and pointed: “These, these, and these!”

“Especially the ones with locust flower honey—they’re delicious!”

As soon as she said this, the customers outside the counter became even more excited.

“Two locust honey ones!”

“Give me two as well!”

“Do you still have the maple syrup milk ones from yesterday?”

“Luoluo, do you remember me? I gave you a melon yesterday! What else is good? Tell me!”

Qin Huai, still in the kitchen making buns: “……”

Seriously—neighbors from this community, neighboring communities, and office workers sneaking out during work hours…

Our canteen doesn’t even officially sell buns!

Why are you acting like you’re queuing for limited-edition products?

You’re making this feel exactly like overtime for me.