Chapter 69 Yuanmeng Shaobing

Yuanmeng Shaobing is a type of flatbread that sounds impressive by name, but in reality isn’t much different from minced meat shaobing.

The name comes from a legend.

It is said that one night, Empress Dowager Cixi had a dream in which she ate a very delicious shaobing filled with minced meat. Coincidentally, the next morning she was served the same kind of shaobing she had seen in her dream. The Dowager was extremely pleased, saying the shaobing had fulfilled her dream. As a reward, she granted the chef in the imperial kitchen twenty taels of silver and an official position.

Because this dish fulfilled Cixi’s dream, it came to be called “Yuanmeng Shaobing.”

Zheng Siyuan mentioned this shaobing to Qin Huai because he discovered that Qin Huai could make five-delicacy buns. The five-delicacy bun is a famous snack associated with Emperor Qianlong’s southern tours, so Zheng Siyuan casually brought up another pastry associated with a famous imperial “endorsement.”

Of course, Zheng Siyuan didn’t tell Qin Huai how to make it—because he didn’t know either.

Yuanmeng Shaobing is a well-known Beijing imperial snack, while Zheng Siyuan specialized in Su-style pastries, so this recipe wasn’t within his domain.

But Qin Huai was different.

Any recipe found in the Complete Guide to Pastries or available online fell within his domain.

While keeping an eye on the fermenting dough and stirring the filling simmering over low heat, Qin Huai took out his phone and searched for a recipe for Yuanmeng Shaobing.

As for why he didn’t check the pastry guide book…

He hadn’t brought it from home.

Qin Huai decided to first look up recipes online, then check the book later at home to compare. Combining both sources should be sufficient.

If he couldn’t make C-grade chicken noodle soup, could he still not make something similar to minced meat shaobing?

Qin Huai carefully studied the recipes online.

The internet truly was amazing.

The same dish, yet different methods.

Each recipe produced slightly different versions of Yuanmeng Shaobing—some round, some square, and some resembling baked buns stuffed with meat.

None of that mattered, because Qin Huai had already found one that Qin Luo would absolutely love.

A version that looked about 60% like “Golden Laughing Opening” pastries!

Golden Laughing Opening!

The value of Cooking Master Boy was still rising.

Qin Huai even felt a bit regretful that he hadn’t discovered this kind of shaobing earlier.

He glanced at Qin Luo, who was already starting to mop the floor, and felt that her Chinese grades might still be salvageable.

Hmm… do international high schools even teach Chinese?

No problem—if needed, she could just wake up early and do math papers instead.

With Yuanmeng Shaobing now on the agenda, Qin Huai put down his phone and turned to another important matter.

Tangerine peel tea.

Today was the day Luo Jun would come to the cafeteria to drink tangerine peel tea.

It was also the first time in 1 year, 8 months, and 13 days that Luo Jun would step outside.

Every time Qin Huai thought about that, he regretted not asking Huang Xi the day before to prepare a banner to hang at the entrance.

The shock of discovering that Chen Huihong was a divine tree from the Classic of Mountains and Seas, combined with Qin Luo receiving her “loving education,” had left him momentarily disorganized, and he hadn’t thought of it.

Qin Huai poured the simmered filling into another clean pot to cool, then began kneading dough and rolling wrappers.

By the time the first batch of buns was steamed, the early-morning regulars—mostly elderly men—began trickling into the shop with sighs.

It was clear they hadn’t yet recovered from the sorrow of Zheng Siyuan returning to Suzhou.

Who knew—if one day an old man made a special trip to Suzhou only to discover that Zheng Siyuan ran a pastry shop and didn’t sell wontons, and that wontons were an ultra-rare item… would they be even more heartbroken?

As the first group of customers ate breakfast, Qin Huai began preparing the tangerine peel tea.

Naturally, Luo Jun would not be arriving this early.

He simply couldn’t get up.

But Qin Huai could prepare in advance—brewing at least three versions of the tea—to ensure this side quest went flawlessly.

For the sake of the quest, Qin Huai brewed with great care.

At this point, someone might ask: does brewing herbal tea require advanced culinary skill?

The answer is no.

All that’s required is to avoid making the recipe too “otherworldly.”

Still, to show proper respect for the tea, Qin Huai even brought out a scale he never used, carefully measured brown sugar into the pot, and added a small pinch of salt.

His meticulousness caught the attention of the diners at table nine.

Today, Mr. Xu Qiang was absent for breakfast. It was said that he had gone to visit his daughter and granddaughter the afternoon before. Before leaving, he even leveraged his familiarity with regular customers to collect buns from others, taking one from each person he knew and gathering an entire bag to bring to his daughter.

As for how Qin Huai knew this—

During breakfast, Mr. Cao at table nine had been loudly criticizing Xu Qiang’s behavior the entire time. As one of the victims who lost two buns, he expressed his disdain.

Mr. Wang, however, didn’t care much. He hadn’t lost anything, so he wasn’t a victim.

He craned his neck to look through the kitchen window at Qin Huai and, ignoring Mr. Cao’s righteous complaints, asked curiously, “Is Xiao Qin making herbal tea?”

“Of course,” another elderly man chimed in. “Haven’t you heard? The old man Luo from Building A made a bet with Xiao Qin a couple of days ago, claiming his secret tangerine peel tea would taste better. He agreed to personally come out today to taste it.”

Mr. Wang looked confused.

Another unnamed elder, seeing his expression, couldn’t help but comment, “Are you even from this neighborhood? How do you not know Old Luo… oh, you’re not from here.”

Mr. Wang: ?

Discrimination, huh? Watch me get angry and buy a unit in your neighborhood…

Never mind. Too expensive. Better save the money for my children and grandchildren.

The group at table nine began explaining Luo Jun’s “legend” to Mr. Wang.

Things like him dominating local food delivery services online, being blacklisted by multiple restaurants, and earning a notorious reputation.

Or how he had gone through over 60 caregivers in 10 years, sometimes changing up to five in a single week, earning a reputation as a notoriously difficult elderly person. His current caregiver, Zhang Shumei, had worked for him for five consecutive years without quitting and had been voted the most “poachable” caregiver in the entire Yunzhong community every year.

It was only in recent years, as his mobility declined, that he stopped going out and faded from attention. But a few years back, anyone in nearby neighborhoods who enjoyed gossip would have known his name.

Mr. Wang didn’t know because he lived far away and wasn’t into gossip.

After hearing Luo Jun’s story, Mr. Wang worriedly said, “With such a bad temper, could he be coming today to pick a fight with Xiao Qin?”

Mr. Cao waved his hand. “He hasn’t stepped out in 1 year, 8 months, and 13 days—why would he be that bored just to come pick a fight with Xiao Qin…”

Then he paused.

Normal people wouldn’t be that bored—but Luo Jun wasn’t normal.

Mr. Cao’s expression turned serious.

“What if he really is here to cause trouble? Xiao Qin is honest, kind, gentle, soft-hearted, and easy to persuade—he seems like someone who could be bullied.”

Qin Luo, sweeping nearby: Is this really my brother?

“No,” Mr. Cao slammed the table. “I’m staying here to back Xiao Qin up.”

With that, everyone agreed.

So at 9 a.m., Luo Jun, who had rarely gotten up early to personally come to the cafeteria for breakfast, slowly walked in—only to see the place full of elderly men and women.

He paused slightly.

Then it dawned on him.

As expected—people who eat breakfast at this hour are plentiful.

Look at this—there are people everywhere in the cafeteria.