Chapter 7 Assistant Xiao Qin

That evening, Chen Huihong sent Qin Huai a WeChat message, asking about the difficulty of making red bean porcupine buns. After learning that anyone with basic hand skills could learn to make them, Chen Huihong proactively asked whether Qin Huai could spare time to teach her. After receiving a positive response, she directly took on the tasks of renovating the cafeteria and recruiting staff as thanks. She also generously offered that if Qin Huai’s house was not large enough, her vacant property could be used temporarily by Qin Congwen, Zhao Rong, and Qin Luo, and she did not plan to rent it out in the short term.

After all, for Chen Huihong, finding a reliable renovation company to make simple modifications to the cafeteria’s first floor and having her brother’s company help post recruitment notices was far less troublesome than learning how to make red bean porcupine buns.

—

“So this is the result of Sister Hong skipping work and practicing for three days?!” Ou Yang looked at the red bean porcupine buns of varying shapes and sizes on the table, his gaze toward Qin Huai full of suspicion.

Qin Huai had messaged him early in the morning, asking him to come upstairs to evaluate Chen Huihong’s progress over the past few days and discuss teaching strategies. Ou Yang had assumed that under Qin Huai’s guidance, Chen Huihong’s culinary skills had improved dramatically. He came eagerly, ready for a big meal—only to find—

What were these chaotic-looking porcupines?

Some had tilted heads, some had leaking fillings, some were poorly proportioned, and some looked like mice with a few spines sticking out—pure abstract-art porcupines.

Ou Yang couldn’t help thinking: the red bean porcupine buns he had eaten a few days ago didn’t look like this.

No way, bro—you said this bun was beginner-level and anyone could make it with basic skills?

Could it be that you’re the kind of teacher who has top-tier academic ability but terrible teaching skills?

Qin Huai picked up one bun—large enough to fit an adult’s fist, with spines sparser than a programmer facing hair loss—and said, “The taste is the same. I made the dough and the filling. The appearance doesn’t affect eating.”

With that, Qin Huai took the first bite.

The main reason Qin Huai had called Ou Yang over today was to clear out inventory.

Although Chen Huihong’s learning results were not ideal, her attitude was excellent. Over three days, she had made so many porcupine buns that several refrigerators couldn’t store them all. Qin Luo was almost sick of them and felt nauseated just seeing anything with red bean filling.

In line with the principle of not wasting food, Qin Huai had summoned Ou Yang under the pretext of discussing teaching strategies, mainly to help eat the buns.

Since it was Saturday and no one had to work, it made sense to come eat some red bean porcupine buns.

Ou Yang felt that made sense. He grabbed one and stuffed it into his mouth, saying while eating, “That said, these buns are a bit… shabby. The parent-child cooking day is the day after tomorrow—will Sister Hong be okay making these?”

“I’m not saying the buns themselves are bad, but… did Sister Hong tell you about previous parent-child days?”

Qin Huai nodded.

Of course she had.

The Experimental Primary School’s parent-child day was held one week before the final exams each semester. It was originally intended to promote parent-child relationships, foster interaction among students, and encourage communication among parents. However, things had gone off track.

Due to the inexplicable competition and one-upmanship among wealthy parents, the event had gradually become something else entirely.

One could tell just by looking at housing prices in Yunzhong Community—families at that school were generally well-off.

Compared to them, Chen Huihong’s wealth only placed her slightly above average. If these affluent parents wanted to compete, the level of competition could become extreme.

Ou Yang swallowed a bun and switched to complaint mode:

“Last year’s parent-child innovation day was about paper-folding boats. There were seven dragon boats alone, not to mention other types of ships. If conditions allowed, they probably would’ve folded the Titanic.”

“The year before that, on parent-child science day, there were 26 projects that applied for patents, and I heard 2 of them were actually put into production. Because things got so exaggerated in those first two years—obviously bought with money—the school changed this year’s event to a parent-child cooking day, and specifically required everything to be made on-site.”

“They also removed rankings and only gave awards—like ‘Most Popular,’ ‘Most Innovative,’ etc., without ordering them, to avoid parents competing excessively.”

“For boats, people could prepare parts in advance and assemble them at school. For science projects, they could just bring finished products. But cooking requires parents to do it themselves at most, maybe with an assistant helping out—so it can’t get too outrageous.”

“Actually, in previous years Sister Hong could’ve found help too, it wasn’t impossible. But she doesn’t like that superficial stuff—she believes parent-child day should involve parents and children doing things together. That’s why Huihui’s results were quite poor in previous years.”

“Although I think Huihui probably doesn’t care much about rankings, Sister Hong still felt uncomfortable, like she was embarrassing her daughter. This year, since it’s a mandatory hands-on cooking event, she feels it’s her chance to redeem herself. Qin Huai, listen—don’t be fooled by how she seems indifferent on the surface. She’s been preparing for a long time. Ever since the notice came out three months ago, she started practicing secretly.”

Ou Yang raised his hand and pointed at the base of his left thumb:

“See this scar? That was from cutting vegetables two months ago. She originally wanted to practice cooking, but cut her hand while practicing chopping, so Huihui wouldn’t let her cook.”

“Since cooking was out, she tried making dumplings. There’s another scar on her foot—you probably can’t see it. A little over a month ago, while chopping filling, she accidentally knocked a knife off the cutting board, and it cut into her foot.”

“After that, Huihui wouldn’t let her make dumplings either. So she tried Western pastries, but couldn’t learn. Then she switched to cold dishes—but those were too simple. If I remember correctly, she only switched to braised dishes two weeks ago.”

Talking too fast, Ou Yang choked slightly, took a big gulp of water, and continued:

“I actually think braised dishes are pretty good. A bit of a cheat maybe, but they’re reliable—the spice packets are pre-made. If Huihui hadn’t said those red bean porcupine buns were good a couple of days ago, I think Sister Hong would be braising intestines at home right now.”

Qin Huai: …

Braising intestines for a school parent-child cooking event.

All he could say was that Chen Huihong really didn’t follow conventional paths.

“So, what’s our plan now?” Ou Yang picked up the last red bean porcupine bun.

“We think the red bean porcupine buns aren’t enough,” Qin Huai said honestly. “Sister Hong subtly asked around—while there aren’t any professional chefs among the other parents in Huihui’s class, some families do run restaurants.”

“At that time, they can have chefs prepare pre-made dishes that only need to be heated, which still meets the school’s requirements.”

Ou Yang immediately sat up straight. “Then what do we do? Is there any famous chef in our city? If needed, Sister Hong should go find one too!”

“But it’s already late—haven’t they all already been taken?”

Qin Huai shook his head. “You know Sister Hong’s personality better than I do. Even making buns with ready-made dough and filling is her limit—she definitely won’t accept anything fully pre-made that just needs reheating.”

Ou Yang slapped his thigh anxiously. “Then what do we do? Won’t Huihui be at the bottom again this year?!”

Qin Huai: ?

Why are you so worried about Huihui finishing last? Do you have a system quest too?

Then he heard Ou Yang muttering:

“I was hoping Huihui would shine this year so Sister Hong would be happy and give me an extra 2,000 yuan bonus. My parents don’t give me any money—I’m practically broke.”

Qin Huai: …

“So I proposed Plan B,” Qin Huai said.

“If we can’t beat others in quality, then we win in quantity. My dad has a collection of pastry molds that can make over 20 shapes, including cats, dogs, rabbits, Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, White Dragon Horse, and even Guanyin’s lotus throne. I called my aunt yesterday to have them shipped over—they should arrive this afternoon.”

“The only downside is they’re a bit old-fashioned. They don’t include modern popular designs like Peppa Pig, Shaun the Sheep, Pikachu, or In the Night Garden. After all, these molds were made over 30 years ago by the best carpenter in our county.”

“But that’s fine—we’ll go with a nostalgic retro theme.”

“The day before the event, I’ll prepare dough and fillings in advance—red bean, mung bean, rose, purple sweet potato, lotus seed paste—all sweet fillings. For savory, we’ll only do egg yolk. Meat fillings are best, but Sister Hong isn’t good with ovens, so we’ll avoid that to prevent mishaps.”

“Our goal for the parent-child cooking day is simple: everyone gets a share. We’ll aim to make sure every student and parent in the school can taste at least one bite.”

Wouldn’t that make us shine brilliantly!

Ou Yang listened, stunned. Qin Huai’s plan sounded reasonable—but also a bit outrageous. After thinking for a moment, he finally found a flaw.

“So many different pastries—can Sister Hong handle that?”

Right now her creations were still… abstract art.

“As long as she can wrap the filling, the molds handle the rest.”

“But…” Ou Yang still felt uncertain. “With Sister Hong’s level, can it taste good if she does it alone?”

“Aren’t pastries supposed to be steamed or baked? Can she manage that by herself?”

“Of course not.”

Ou Yang: ?

“So Sister Hong needs an assistant to help move things and coordinate overall operations,” Qin Huai said.

“…The school will definitely check strictly this year. How are you going to get in with your identity?” Ou Yang asked.

Qin Huai said seriously, “To be honest, my biological mother and Sister Hong are from the same hometown.”

Ou Yang: ???

“Although not from the same village or county, they are from the same city. And although they live a bit far apart, my maternal great-aunt’s niece married into Sister Hong’s village, and that family’s uncle’s cousin’s nephew…”

“The relationships are a bit complicated, but strictly speaking—I’m Huihui’s distant uncle.”

“As a poor relative, it’s perfectly reasonable for me to come assist my more successful distant cousin as her helper, helping carry things and assist during the parent-child day.”

“After all, the molds my aunt is sending weigh 30 to 40 pounds. We can’t expect Sister Hong and Huihui to carry them alone, right?”

Saying this, Assistant Xiao Qin proudly showed his ID badge:

Hongyuan Company — Board Assistant — Qin Huai.

Freshly issued that morning. Completely brand new.

Ou Yang: ???