"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Are you doubting me?" Xiangling smirks back, her mouth stretched into a wide smile as she nudges Childe with her elbow. "I would think that I'm the expert around these parts."

Childe frowns, looking at the teapot dubiously. It isn't that he doesn't like tea, he just doesn't get the complexity that most seem to blabber on about when they take a sip. His grandpa was just like Zhongli. Could go on for days, waxing about the notes and body of whatever brew he was drinking.

All that Childe ever tastes is leafy water. Tasty, sure, but leafy water. Still—

"I—" Childe stops himself, thumbing at his cheek before looking back at Xiangling. "So look. I might not be an expert on Liyue-style tea but I'm almost certain that it isn't supposed to be blue."

"I mean, you're right," says Xiangling, entirely unconcerned as she roots around in her cabinets, pulling out more spices and whatever tickles her fancy. "I was aiming for more of a like… seafoam color?"

Childe doesn't quite know what to say, scratching his head. "And you're certain that he'll like it?"

"Mr. Zhongli has the most refined palate of any of my patrons. Surely he'll find the beauty in such mastery, as odd as it might seem at first." Xiangling rights herself, brushing the dust from her shoulders. She holds up a jar labeled in her messy scrawl.

"Salt?" reads Childe. That can't be right. That can't be—

"I think that it'll balance out the beef broth perfectly well."

So that's why the water currently boiling was so dark before it changed to a more aqualine hue. "Are you making a stew?"

Childe means it as a joke, but Xiangling pauses, seriously considering his question. Then, she says, "Well, when you consider the spices and garlic, all I'd have to do is add some—"

"Xiangling, do not add meat." Because even Childe knows better than that.

"Are you a Teyvat renowned chef?" she asks.

"No."

"Are you going to persist in questioning me?"

"No." Though he probably should. A pause as she uncaps the small spice jar currently in her fingers. "So level with me again—what exactly is in this magnificent tea blend of yours?"

"Okay, so I started with the boar drippings from the roast a few days back—" Childe cringes, but wisely says nothing. "Don't worry, I didn't add the drippings, but I did use the broth from what I cooked last night. Wound up nice and earthy, so I thought it'd pair well with this salt that I'm about to add. You already saw the garlic—"

"Are you sure this isn't a soup?"

"I mean, is it still a soup if I strain everything out?"

Good point. Childe thumbs at his chin. "Wouldn't it just be a broth?"

Xiangling then smiles, dumping a palmful of the salt into the pot. "And what's a cup of tea if not for leafy tea broth?"

"Xiangling, I don't think that's what Smiley Yanxiao meant when he said that. It was a joke—"

"Joke or not, it's led to inspiration! Doesn't that smell fantastic?"

It does if Xiangling is planning on serving up a pot roast in a cup. She is not.

"Anyway, where was I?"

"You were at the broth."

Xiangling nods, stirring the suspicious-looking brew. "Right! Okay, so, the broth is well spiced and well seasoned. A little bit of mist flower corolla, just for an icy bite. Then the the special salt that I sourced from Sal Terrae, as you saw—"

"From where?"

Xiangling blinks, her head tilted to the side, eyes wide with confusion. "Uh, I mean—I went with Lumine and there the salt was, just sitting there in a huge pile, right in the middle of the domain. Bottled some of it up."

Oh. Oh no, he thinks. Childe might be morally gray with an antagonist lean at his best, but he draws the line at using salt made from people. Too late now. It's already in the pot, simmering along with the rest of it. He rubs at his face, sighing. "Right, right. What's next, then?"

"A dash of cardamom—I know what you're thinking?"

"You do?" asks Childe tiredly, exhausted just by watching her. There is no way that she does.

"'Why Xiangling, why on earth would you put cardamom in a green tea?' Well, I'm here to tell you that it'll be fantastic."

Childe has lost hope but this is one of those moments where he's in too deep. "Absolutely," he says, having no idea what she even means by that.

"Alright, all that's left is the final bit." Xiangling pulls out a flat parcel from the back of her pantry, drumming her fingers along the edge of it. "This is it," she says, "the magnum opus of teas. My dad tucks this away for only the most special of occasions and I think that this is the perfect opportunity."

Childe thinks that if this is what they serve Zhongli for his birthday, he just might die of embarrassment. Xiangling won't because she's like that cast iron wok of hers—able to weather even the worst of rust.

"Pu'erh," she says. "I know that doesn't mean much to you, but just trust me when I say it's the cream of the crop. Can't get much better than this."

Childe bites at his lip. "Should you… er, use it for this?"

"Only the most exquisite for Mr. Zhongli! Now, go make sure that he's sitting at your table."

Childe takes one last look at the pot of boiling water, a sickly blue color and smelling suspiciously of pork. In for a mora, in for a pound, he thinks as he hightails it out of the kitchen.

#

Zhongli smiles at him kindly when Childe slides into the chair next to him. "Ajax, there you are. I know that we didn't quite set a time, but I still want to share a walk later—"

"I just want you to know that I tried to stop her."

Zhongli falls quiet, floundering slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

Childe nods to the entrance of Wanmin Restaurant. "Xiangling. Look, the tea she's cooked up, it's nightmare fuel. Entirely her fault."

"Ajax—"

"I tried to stop her. Told her that you don't steep tea in meat broth. I said that it was more like a soup—" At that, Zhongli's brow creases comically, his mouth falling open. "Just grin and bear it?"

"Grin and bear it? What do you mean—"

"Mr. Zhongli!" They both turn to find Xiangling standing there with a tray in her hands. A teapot and several cups sit atop it, and she smiles wide and bright.

Zhongli's gaze washes over her. "Ah. I see."

"I'm sure that Childe told you that I came up with a special brew for your birthday!"

Zhongli's eyes slide over to Childe, crinkled with amusement.

Childe is one thousand percent that amusement will not last for much longer. He rubs at his face, leaning an elbow against the table. "Go on then," he says. "Try a cup, Mr. Zhongli." Zhongli's mouth turns slightly at that. There are very few times Childe calls him such a thing. Certainly never in public. "Don't keep the little lady waiting."

"I promise that I boiled the water properly this time," says Xiangling, setting out the small teacups. "No zapping at the water with pyro for instant satisfaction. I took care to bring it to a slow boil, just like you told me that one time."

"Ah," says Zhongli, "I'm glad that you listened to me. A perfect brew truly begins with the water and how it is prepared."

Childe snorts at that, failing to hide it behind his hand. Both Zhongli and Xiangling look at him, the latter shooting him a glare. When she pours out the tea, it is bright blue and smells like pork noodle broth.

Zhongli's frown is immediate. "Miss Xiangling…"

"I used Dad's fancy Pu'erh—" Oh, that's a funny look on Zhongli's face, the pinched expression as he tries to hold his tongue. "—because I figured if anyone deserved it, it's you. A late offering or something, if you know what I mean." Xiangling nudges him and gives him a knowing wink.

She waits patiently. Childe is already trying not to laugh. Zhongli's fingers curl around the small teacup in trepidation as he brings it to his mouth. One sip is all that it takes. Xiangling won't notice because Zhongli is masterful at hiding things, but Childe shares his bed, and is privy to all his minute subtleties.

Zhongli cringes, lips slightly curled, nostrils flaring. He manages to choke it down, swallowing. "It is…"

"Thick and hearty, right?"

"It is certainly that." A pause. Then, Zhongli looks at Childe. "Are you not going to try it?"

Oh, that's just dirty. "Oh, I think that I'm good—"

"Nonsense," says Zhongli, sliding a cup over to him. "I insist. After all, I am the birthday boy, right? Isn't that what you said this morning during breakfast?"

Childe said a lot of things that morning, none of them remotely safe for work. Xiangling now stares at him, eyes wide with excitement. He can't say no to either of them, bless his bleeding heart. He shoots Zhongli a glare before knocking back the entire cup.

It takes a lot to not vomit, but Childe maintains that he won the match, downing the entire cup without losing his lunch. Xiangling is none the wiser as she cheers before bounding off, having other customers and tables, and more recipes to inspire her.

"That was cruel," says Childe once she's out of earshot, gagging.

"As cruel as it was to receive as a birthday present?"

"Hey now, she's barely a woman. She only wanted to give you a gift."

Zhongli hums at that. "Yes, well, perhaps this time her imagination runneth a little too wild."

"I did say that I tried to stop her."

Zhongli reaches out to grasp his chin. "A small thanks for that, I suppose," he says, dragging his thumb across Childe's bottom lip, wiping away the lingering grease from the pork fat. "Pu'erh steep in a meat broth. What on earth was she thinking?"

"Yeah, well, don't get me started on the salt from Sal Terrae."

Zhongli looks absolutely flabbergasted. "The what?"

"Yeah, you might want to pour the rest of your cup out. Discreetly. We'll get you something better on the way home, okay?"

Another day, another cup of tea with Zhongli. Wisely, Zhongli takes his advice, pouring the rest out before they skip out on the bill.