Chapter 9 Little Qin, the Assistant’s Approval

On June 26, the final day of intensive training.

With batch-production “cheat tools” like molds, there wasn’t much left for Chen Huihui and Chen Huihong to practice. Qin Huai mainly had the mother and daughter practice using the molds, ensuring they could demold smoothly and without mistakes. Meanwhile, he himself spent the entire day in the kitchen preparing various fillings—clear division of labor.

As a complete beginner in cooking, Chen Huihong absolutely loved the sets of molds Qin Huai provided. If Qin Huai hadn’t told her that the woodworker Zhang who made the molds had retired many years ago, she would have gone to commission a few sets herself just to practice at home and start a “second career.”

“After achieving financial freedom, I became a culinary master using molds.”

In the evening, after filling the refrigerator with various kinds of fillings, Qin Huai delivered his final pre-competition speech.

Two small green cactus pots brought by Ou Yang sat on the entryway cabinet, witnessing the moment.

“Big Sister Chen, Huihui, you’ve got the molds down now, right?”

The mother and daughter both nodded firmly.

“Big Sister Chen, let’s confirm one last time. Tomorrow I won’t be helping directly—everything will depend on you alone. You can be slow, but not rushed. If you rush, mistakes will happen. Follow each step in order, don’t overfill the stuffing, and don’t rush when demolding—take your time. If something goes wrong and the appearance isn’t perfect, that’s fine. The key is taste. I prepared the dough, and I made the fillings. I’ll also keep an eye on the cooking timing. What you need to do is trust yourself.”

Chen Huihong nodded even more firmly.

“Huihui, your job is to assist your mom. If you can’t help directly, that’s fine—your main task is promotion. Don’t be afraid. Tomorrow we’ll win through quantity. The goal is to make sure all the students get to eat. You’re our promotional champion for tomorrow. Your responsibility is no lighter than your mom’s. Can you do it?”

“I can!” Chen Huihui replied loudly.

“Then what’s our goal for tomorrow?”

“Best Innovation Award!”

“Most Diligent Award!”

Qin Huai: “……”

Fine—as long as there’s an award, it counts as bringing honor to the daughter. As long as the task is completed, that’s enough.

The next morning, the freshly minted assistant Little Qin boarded President Chen’s Bentley with dough and fillings, heading to the venue of the parent-child cooking event—the Parent-Child Kitchen.

Since Experimental Primary School didn’t have enough space for parents to cook, and setting up temporary cooking stations couldn’t guarantee hygiene, the event was held at nearby parent-child kitchens. Organized by grade and class, one grade participated in the morning and one in the afternoon. Each class was assigned a different kitchen, and the event lasted for three full days.

Outside of the event, normal classes continued—students weren’t given extra days off.

Upon arriving, Qin Huai discovered that Chen Huihui’s classmates had quite a few relatives helping out—cousins, aunts, uncles.

Including himself, there were three cousins, one cousin sister, and two uncles.

When they saw each other, each gave a knowing smile before quietly getting to work carrying items.

The dishes prepared by parents were also very diverse: Chinese cuisine, Western desserts, beverages, cold dishes, sushi, healthy salads—everything imaginable.

Among them, three groups—the ones making milk tea, salads, and sushi—shared Qin Huai’s strategy: winning through quantity. Just as Qin Huai had finished moving his molds onto the cooking station, Wang Yihan’s mother—whose child had tied for second-to-last place in last year’s Science and Technology Innovation Day with Chen Huihui—already brought over a freshly made cup of pearl milk tea.

“Huihui’s uncle, are you making pastries?” she asked, looking at the molds with surprise. She thought to herself that even Chen Huihong, the perennial bottom-ranked parent, had brought in outside help—would her own daughter end up second-to-last alone this year?

“Yes,” Qin Huai replied with a smile as he accepted the milk tea. “Pastries involve a lot of ingredients and are heavy. Big Sister Chen has some back issues, so I’m mainly here to help move things around and run errands. I won’t be doing the cooking—pastry work is too difficult for me.”

Wang Yihan’s mother looked at Qin Huai with suspicion. Qin Huai accepted her gaze calmly, which made her feel like she might be judging him unfairly.

Indeed, Chen Huihui’s mother had always done everything herself and had consistently ranked in the bottom three of the class—someone like her wouldn’t hire outside help, right? Besides, Qin Huai was so young—him not knowing how to make pastries was perfectly normal. He must really be just a relative.

Convinced, Wang Yihan’s mother returned, already thinking about how to comfort her daughter if she ended up second-to-last again this year.

Meanwhile, Qin Huai sipped his milk tea and quietly observed the parents around him.

He categorized them into three types: slackers, elites, and “whales” (those who rely on spending).

Wang Yihan’s mother was a typical slacker—her milk tea was overly sweet with too much syrup, and even if she tried to win by volume, she likely wouldn’t rank highly.

Next to her, Tao Bohan’s uncle represented the elite type. He clearly cooked regularly at home—his knife skills were sharp, and his ingredient prep was extensive. His plan seemed to be preparing a full spread of chicken, duck, fish, meat, and vegetables to win through a lavish table.

As for the “whale” group bringing cousins and relatives, they were not much of a threat. This year, the school strictly regulated excessive spending. Parents who tried to use money as leverage had to keep things modest. Relatives like Qin Huai mainly assisted with minor tasks like cutting vegetables.

For true elites, even if whales brought pre-prepared ingredients and seasonings, it wasn’t enough to pose a threat. After all, everything still had to be cooked properly. Bringing only broth without ingredients—or just sprinkling some scallions and serving it—was not acceptable.

And for true beginners, even if given a pot of broth and a pot of cabbage, they still couldn’t make a proper dish like Buddha Jumps Over the Wall-style soups.

Just like Qin Congwen ordering expensive Journey to the West molds but not knowing how to use them.

Moreover, this year’s judging would be based on student votes. Children’s tastes were unpredictable. You could serve an elaborate dish like Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, and kids might still prefer chocolate or spicy snacks instead.

After surveying the entire venue, Qin Huai concluded: advantage is ours.

Chen Huihong felt the same way.

Although she couldn’t even knead dough properly, she had molds—and she had Little Qin.

A self-made woman who built a small “business empire” with her younger brother, a capable leader in her own right, the top decision-maker of Yunzhong Community, and the enthusiastic head of the neighborhood committee, Chen Huihong firmly believed: Little Qin was truly a skilled and reliable young man.

Thinking that she could finally redeem herself and bring honor to her daughter, Chen Huihong was instantly filled with motivation and began working diligently.

Thus, an astonishing scene appeared on the field:

President Chen was kneading dough, while Little Qin was drinking milk tea.

President Chen was wrapping fillings, while Little Qin was eating salad.

President Chen was pressing molds, while Little Qin was eating sushi.

President Chen was demolding, while Little Qin was helping Huihui find the salad-making parent to request a salad with only mango and lettuce, plus extra dressing.

Little Qin’s life was practically heavenly. The other cousins and uncles were stunned, wondering if he really was an actual uncle.

Finally, when President Chen was placing the freshly molded buns into the steamer trays, Little Qin—already enjoying a bowl of fish-flavored shredded pork—walked by and reminded her:

“Big Sister Chen, put the elephant-shaped buns on the bottom tray. You placed them incorrectly.”

“Oh, oh.” President Chen quickly corrected it and continued working, her movements so practiced they almost felt heartbreaking.

“These batches are all red bean filling, right?” Little Qin checked.

“Red bean and mung bean. The next batch is egg yolk,” President Chen reported.

Little Qin nodded in satisfaction and quietly left.

Assistant Little Qin commented: President Chen’s performance this time was excellent—keep it up and aim for even greater success.

As for Assistant Little Qin, the seafood rice noodles at Cooking Station No. 1 were ready. He needed to go scout the competition on behalf of President Chen.