Chapter 31: The Coin Roller

The fact that Zhao Shuihe’s discernment far surpassed my own was something I had to admit to myself. In truth, I had already lost; even if not in terms of insight, I had lost in the game of wits.

Yet, there was no helping it! The girl was playing "cat and mouse" and wasn't finished yet; she insisted on giving me an extra chance. It wouldn't do to refuse.

I might as well gamble! Win or lose, it would at least be more dignified than voluntarily forfeiting and bowing down to acknowledge her as my superior.

Without hesitation, I accepted. I asked her exactly what kind of chance she was offering.

She scoffed, "Guess what my signature pastry is and which school of training I come from. This time, I’ll be generous: if you guess correctly, you win. But we have to set a time limit."

"How long?" I asked immediately.

"Let’s see..." Zhao Shuihe pondered for a moment, then looked up at the sun, which was sinking toward the horizon. "Got it! Once the sun dips behind the walls of the courtyard, if you haven't answered, you lose. Start now!"

Her words were iron-clad and decisive; she hadn't bothered to consult me at all.

Instinctively, I looked up at the sun, and the sight immediately threw me into a panic.

The sun was already more than halfway behind the Zhao family's wall. In two or three minutes at most, it would be gone. To identify her signature pastry and her lineage in such a short time was incredibly difficult.

Helpless, I turned my attention back to the woman, watching her every move.

Forget it. Just guess!

Zhao Shuihe was still dressed in her lotus-white attire, with a pale pink crossbody bag that stood out prominently. The water-lily embroidered on the bag was lovely, shimmering alongside the ancient Five-Emperor coins tied to the strap.

These were all obvious clues, but I couldn't connect them.

The clues I had previously gathered from "Beauty Xiao" and the "Three-Water Noodles" had been forgotten due to Zhao Shuihe’s abrupt interruption. Trying to recall them now felt like pulling at a tangled knot of thread—the thoughts simply wouldn't unravel.

Resigned, I had to start from the beginning, tracing these chaotic questions back to their most primitive roots.

After a moment, Zhao Shuihe grew impatient. She began to roll the coin between her fingers faster, urging me, "The sun is sinking. Hurry up."

I didn't know why, but Zhao Shuihe’s speech was laced with a thick Beijing accent. It sounded incredibly strange to my ears.

She was from Huainan... why would she speak with a northern lilt?

"Have you been to Beijing?" I asked.

"Nonsense! Don't try to fish for information from me!" Zhao Shuihe shot back, her gaze darting anxiously to the sun. The coin in her hand spun even faster.

My eyes fell naturally onto her coin-manipulating hands, and I suddenly felt this was a crucial lead.

Zhao Shuihe’s technique was known as "coin-rolling," a skill often practiced by street performers and magicians, while children used it to "look cool."

This method relied on "dexterous force," rolling a coin back and forth through the gaps of the fingers using the strength of the joints. In the hands of someone skilled like Zhao Shuihe, it looked like flowing water, as if the coin were stuck to her skin.

Judging by her gestures and habits, she hadn't been doing this for just a year or two; it had become an ingrained part of her life, much like an old man habitually rolling walnuts in his palm.

Though I had only known her a short time, I realized that her coin-rolling was subconscious—a habit etched into her very bones.

Why would she develop such a habit? I wondered.

The primary benefit of practicing "coin-rolling" is the significant improvement in finger flexibility and dexterity. And that, as it happens, is the fundamental skill required by Huaiyang white-case pastry chefs.

There are many schools of Chinese pastry, but among the four great culinary traditions, Huaiyang pastry stands alone as a peerless art.

Since the late Qing Dynasty, when the legendary "Beauty Xiao" emerged, the Huaiyang school has produced a constant stream of talent. Huaiyang pastry masters are the only ones among the white-case professionals who can stand on equal footing with the red-case head chefs based solely on their craft—a testament to their esteemed status and unique characteristics.

Compared to other styles, the most distinct feature of Huaiyang pastry is the precise control over the strength of the fingers.

Ordinary pastry-making—kneading and shaping—often relies on the strength of the wrists and elbows due to the volume of the dough and the use of molds. But Huaiyang masters pride themselves on "refining the refined," emphasizing finger strength in the training of their apprentices.

This sets them far above other schools.

The greatest advantage of using finger strength is "finesse." Because the fingertips are rich in nerve endings, they are far more sensitive to water temperature and the nuances of ingredients than any other tactile organ.

This was one of the reasons why Huaiyang pastry far surpassed the rest.

At its core, their philosophy was superior. Rather than just using their hands to make pastries, they were using their hearts to study them.

Taking all this into account, Zhao Shuihe’s constant coin-rolling finally made sense. She was doing it to sharpen her finger dexterity, a practice she likely performed at every spare moment until it became an inseparable habit.

What a hardworking young woman!

Watching her roll the coin, thinking of her Beijing accent, and recalling that bowl of Yangchun noodles, I suddenly felt something was off.

These were all such obvious "clues." She wouldn't be foolish enough to intentionally leave them for me, would she?

Could it be... that she was misleading me?

Using reverse logic, I had a sudden epiphany and immediately connected the threads from Beauty Xiao and the Three-Water Noodles.

A conclusion followed that even surprised me.

"I know!" I exclaimed, a sudden realization dawning on me. "I know it all."

My outburst was so abrupt that Zhao Shuihe jumped. She stopped spinning the coin, looking at me in disbelief. "What do you know? Tell me, quickly."

"Heh, heh, heh!" I laughed, looking at the young girl who had almost led me in circles. "Saying you are a white-case pastry chef from the Two-Ancestors Temple is correct, but saying you are not is also correct."

Zhao Shuihe’s expression shifted instantly at my words.

"You! What exactly do you mean?!" she asked, stepping back. Her excitement was so great that the coin nearly slipped from her fingers.

"Don't you get it?" I said, playing my hand. "Your technique is a good imitation, and you deliberately used a Beijing accent and coin-rolling to disrupt my judgment. But alas! You are too arrogant. The coin in your hand betrayed you."

I then said, word by word, "You are a 'Su Zi Zuo' white-case apprentice from Huaiyang. And the pastry you are best at making... is the steamed bun!"

"Steamed bun? Su Zi Zuo?" Xian Hongye, hearing my words, was dumbstruck.

At that moment, I proudly raised my head to look at the setting sun. Its final sliver of light grazed the spirit tablet of my old squad leader.

Night... had fallen.