Chapter 77 Having an Apprentice Really Is Different

In the end, the pot of high-quality stock that Qin Huai had seriously attempted—and failed at on his first try—did not become that evening’s randomly “dropped” soup. Instead, it was enthusiastically shared among his close circle.

The “family and friends group” included: Chen Huihong, Chen Huihui, Qin Luo, Ou Yang, Qin Congwen, and Luo Jun.

Zhao Rong did not drink soup at night.

As for why Luo Jun was included—it was because Chen Huihong loved posting on social media. Her posts included neighborhood committee work updates, Huihui’s daily life, group-buy deals, and more recently, many recommended dishes from Yunzhong Canteen.

It could be said that part of Yunzhong Canteen’s revenue achievements were thanks to Chen Huihong.

After hearing Qin Huai mention that this stock was intended for longevity noodles and other dishes requiring stock, Chen Huihong immediately posted about it online.

And Luo Jun was someone who spent a lot of time browsing the internet.

If Qin Huai and he hadn’t been open with each other, Luo Jun might not have asked for a bowl himself. But now that both sides were frank—“I know you have a system, and you know I’m not human”—their relationship had reached the point where asking for a bowl of chicken soup wasn’t unreasonable.

After all, Luo Jun didn’t even need to go out—Zhang Shumei would come pick it up.

When Ou Yang learned that such precious soup also included a portion for Luo Jun, he was completely stunned.

“My god, you know this pot of soup… Luo Luo is supposed to drink three bowls of it! Three bowls!” Ou Yang exclaimed. He had originally planned to pack two portions to take home for his parents and maybe grab some fruit and recharge cards along the way. But before he could even pack, Luo Jun had already packed his share.

“Qin Huai, when did you get so close with that old man Luo?” Ou Yang asked in shock.

Qin Huai replied that a lot had happened while he wasn’t aware.

“Do you realize our worldview has changed?”

“I think Mr. Luo is actually a pretty good person,” Qin Huai said sincerely.

As a Bifang, Luo Jun had a fiery temper, spoke harshly, was a bit personally aggressive, and somewhat condescending—but overall, he was a decent person, a warm-hearted neighbor.

Ou Yang looked like he wanted to scream: Do you even know what you’re saying? Do you know what he did to me? Do you know how much damage he caused to my young, fragile soul?

No—you don’t. And yet you even packed him a whole thermal container of soup!

Ou Yang silently shed two lines of tears in his heart.

“How is the soup?” Qin Huai asked.

“Pretty good,” Ou Yang replied.

He genuinely thought it was good. Both he and Qin Luo were meat lovers, and chicken soup—especially made using stock—tasted good to him even if Qin Huai’s version wasn’t exceptional.

“I remember you told me your annual physical exam results were all pretty normal,” Qin Huai said.

“Of course,” Ou Yang said proudly. “I’m healthy, I exercise, and my blood sugar, lipids, blood pressure, and uric acid are all normal. Even doctors praise me. Young people as healthy as me are rare nowadays!”

Qin Huai nodded in satisfaction. “I’ve already told Sister Hong. Starting tomorrow, if you’re free, come over and drink soup. I’ll be making stock every afternoon.”

Ou Yang: ?

“Luo Luo gained some weight over the summer. My stock probably needs a year or more of practice. Unlike pastries, which can be mastered in a month or two.”

“I’m worried that if she helps me taste the soup, she’ll turn into a chubby girl. But now I need someone to help taste the stock. If I rely only on myself, I’m afraid my judgment will be biased. Your palate is quite flexible—so come over tomorrow afternoon to drink soup. No problem, right?”

Ou Yang: ?

You’re worried Luo Luo will become chubby—but not worried I’ll become obese?

Qin Huai, you really are… my brother in spirit!

“Good brother, I knew you’d think of me first whenever something good like this comes up!” Ou Yang said as he expressed his sincerity by gulping down the soup in one go.

“For such a heavy responsibility, leave it to me!”

With a tester now available, the next question remained: how to practice.

After Zheng Da introduced Huang Shengli’s WeChat to Qin Huai, Qin Huai added him immediately. However, Master Huang was likely busy and hadn’t accepted by the time Qin Huai went to sleep.

The next morning, when Qin Huai woke up and sent a message, Master Huang hadn’t woken up yet.

But he got up early—replying before 6 a.m.

Compared to Zheng Da, Huang Shengli was clearly better at teaching apprentices.

If you asked Zheng Da about dough-related questions, his answers would likely be vague: “It depends,” “Hard to say,” “It’s about feeling,” “You know that feeling, right?”

Before Zheng Da returned to Suzhou, none of Qin Luo’s conversations with him in the kitchen were understandable.

It was basically encrypted communication.

But Huang Shengli was different.

He could clearly explain what the problem was and how to fix it.

Since Qin Huai had never undergone systematic training, he didn’t know exactly where his problems were when he encountered issues.

For example, with chicken noodle soup and certain pastries failing, Qin Huai knew it was due to insufficient heat control, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong.

When making stock, he felt his steps were correct but couldn’t get the “feeling.”

When stir-frying minced meat, he felt unfamiliar with the wok and lacked intuition.

In a sense, Qin Huai’s way of explaining things resembled Zheng Da’s—both relied on vague notions of “feeling.”

In this situation, Qin Huai was meeting, for the first time, someone who could break things down clearly and explain them in detail.

That person was Huang Shengli.

After a video call, Huang Shengli immediately identified Qin Huai’s biggest issue: weak fundamentals—in short, not enough practice.

Since Zheng Da had already told him Qin Huai was self-taught, Huang Shengli spent over an hour using his senior apprentice as a demonstration model.

Through the video, he explained in detail the types of heat control, standards, their relationship with ingredients, and practical applications—almost to the point of writing a paper.

Huang Shengli told Qin Huai that making stock is also a challenging skill for professional hot-dish chefs.

The entry barrier is low, but mastery is difficult—and the ceiling is very high.

The stock required for longevity noodles isn’t extremely demanding, but Qin Huai was a beginner in hot dishes, relying entirely on pastry experience and instinct for heat control.

What he was doing now was essentially like a player leaving the beginner village and trying to fight a boss.

Huang Shengli suggested that Qin Huai shouldn’t focus on high stock immediately, but instead build fundamentals.

Not starting from scratch—but learning the characteristics of different ingredients when cooking.

He recommended starting with various meat soups—beef, pork, lamb, chicken, duck—to gain a more precise understanding of ingredients, which would then enable better stock-making.

His apprentices had all followed this path. Huang had a standardized and proven teaching process that was very reliable.

Of course, making one pot of stock every day was still fine—but it should be combined with other practice for faster improvement.

Huang Shengli’s advice gave Qin Huai a moment of sudden clarity.

This is what a master is like!

This is what “the master leads you in, but the practice depends on yourself” means!

This is what formal training feels like!

This feeling… was amazing!

Huang Shengli truly lived up to being a senior brother—a seasoned chef who had taught many apprentices over decades with dedication and consistency.

“Thank you, Master Huang,” Qin Huai said sincerely after a long afternoon of instruction.

“It’s nothing,” Huang replied with a smile. “I just talked a bit—it’s not hard work. My junior brother has no experience teaching apprentices. From what he told me about how he taught you… it was basically guesswork.”

Huang Shengli subtly criticized his junior brother.

“I didn’t really teach you much—just set a direction for practice. Work hard, and if you have questions, feel free to message me anytime. Not many pastry chefs nowadays are willing to invest time and effort into learning stock-making. If you ever have time to visit Suzhou, I’ll personally cook some of my specialties for you.”

“You can also stay a few days and help sell pastries at our restaurant.”

Qin Huai thought: So I’ve become a randomly dropped pastry chef?

“Alright,” Qin Huai agreed immediately. “If I have time, I’ll definitely visit. I’d also like you to try my cooking.”