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“Childe,” Zhongli says, starting off the dinner with a disapproving frown. “There is something we must talk about.”
Childe is in the middle of accidentally dropping a piece of Almond Tofu on the table, but he perks up and pretends nothing happened when he is addressed. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Your chopstick technique could use some improvement,” Zhongli says, and he’s only proven to be correct when Childe unironically picks up the chopsticks backwards and continues to attempt to guide food into his mouth.
It does not work. Several more pieces of innocent tofu meet their untimely demise on the floor.
“Does that mean you’ll teach me?” Childe says, blissfully unaware that none of the food has made it to its proper destination.
“You’re holding your chopsticks backwards. And yes, if you would be willing to have me.” Zhongli holds up his own chopsticks, fingers elegantly curling around the wood. “It is really quite simple once you get the hang of it—you’re holding the wrong end of it.”
Childe gives a sheepish chuckle and slides his hands down the chopsticks. “Sure, how much do you want?”
Zhongli frowns. “The pleasure of your company is enough.”
“That’s in exchange for your company. I’m talking about the chopstick lessons.” Childe seems to decide that he is fighting a lost battle because he forgoes the utensils completely and grabs a bun with his bare hands. “I’d feel bad just asking you for a favor like that, so let’s just say I’ll grant you one wish as long as it’s within my power to do so.”
Zhongli stares in distaste as Childe rips the bun apart and stuffs an entire half into his mouth. “Anything?”
“Yeah.” Childe licks his fingers. “Though in your case, I’m going to guess you’ll ask for payment for this meal, won’t you?”
Zhongli looks away guiltily. “If it wouldn’t trouble you, might I make another request?”
Childe understandably looks surprised. After all, Zhongli rarely asks anything of him other than mora. “Yeah, of course.”
“Can you stop eating like that?”
Childe is in the middle of slurping the juice out of the bun, but he quickly drops it back into his bowl. “Sorry.” He’s about to wipe his stained hands on his pants when Zhongli holds out a handkerchief, eyes politely glancing off to the side. “Well, this is why you’re going to teach me! So you won’t have to watch this anymore.”
Zhongli sighs. And then he moves to Childe’s side. “Here, let me show you.”
He gently moves Childe’s fingers to the right position, sliding them down the chopsticks. “There,” he says, his hands blanketing over Childe’s. “You hold it like that.”
“Oh,” Childe says, looking thoroughly distracted.
Zhongli removes his hands. “See? It is not that difficult—”
He is abruptly cut off when Childe’s fingers spaz unintentionally, twisting around the wood. And then one of the chopsticks goes flying out of his hand, sailing through the air before hitting a decorative plant and clattering to the floor uselessly.
They both stare at it in complete silence.
Zhongli manages to recover first, and he gives polite encouragement. “That was a good first attempt,” he says placatingly.
Childe glares at the traitorous chopstick lying on the ground. “That was terrible,” he says, and then he uses his remaining non-traitorous chopstick to stab into a dumpling and stuff it into his mouth. “I don’t even know how I did that.”
Zhongli sighs; it looks like there will be much instruction needed.
Zhongli has experienced many things in his very long life.
He has fought through the Archon War, battling against old friends and terrifying enemies. He has seen countless acquaintances pass on, has walked through Liyue as the nation moved on without him, has struggled to confront what it means to be human.
And yet, perhaps, this is his most challenging hardship.
Childe’s Journey to Chopstick Mastery has become a sort of spectacle in Liyue Harbor. Every day near noon, a crowd gathers outside Wanmin Restaurant, eager to bear witness as the Eleventh Harbinger attempts to use the utensils once more.
There’s always a new challenger, a self-proclaimed chopsticks master who declares with confidence that this will be the day Childe finally succeeds. Yet every single one of them has left dejected, head hung low as they wonder how exactly one man can be so competent elsewhere but utterly inept when it comes to this.
And Zhongli, well, Zhongli is wondering to himself if his contract to teach Childe will be the first one he is forced to break.
They’re dining together again today, the weather pleasantly warm as Tevyat ushers in another season. Childe, for his part, seems completely unbothered by his lack of progress. He’s chatting away as he eats, doing an amazing job of ignoring both the fact that there’s a crowd of onlookers circling them in and that none of the food is actually reaching his mouth.
The crowd parts when Xiangling nudges her way through, carrying a plate of Jueyun Chili Chicken. “Hey!” she greets cheerfully. “What’s all the commotion about? Why’s everyone watching you two eat?”
“Miss Xiangling.” Zhongli inclines his head politely. “They are watching to see if Childe will learn how to use chopsticks today.”
“Don’t count me out just yet. There’s plenty of food left,” Childe says, and then appropriately drops a Crystal Shrimp. “Oops.”
Xiangling grins. “I see I missed a lot in the two weeks I’ve been gone. Don’t worry, I’ve been using chopsticks all my life. I’ll make you a pro in no time.”
Zhongli has heard this exact statement uttered dozens of times over the past week, so his expectations aren’t particularly high, but he nods along anyway and carefully inches away to avoid the destruction that is sure to follow.
“Here. Like this.” Xiangling expertly snaps the chopsticks together. “It’s like holding a pen.”
The look of complete concentration on Childe’s face is rather endearing, eyes narrowed and nose scrunched up. He maneuvers his hand into the correct position. “Like this?”
“There we go! See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Xiangling says confidently.
Zhongli burrows his head in his hands. He can already see the tragedy in motion. “Hubris is the downfall of man,” he mutters almost hysterically under his breath.
Xiangling shoots him a look, but when it becomes evident that he’s more than happy to sit there and shrivel in on himself, she turns back to Childe. “Now, why don’t you try to pick something up?”
“Sure,” Childe says, reaching for the chicken.
To absolutely no one’s surprise, the chopsticks break in half.
“Oh, that’s a new one,” someone from the crowd says.
Zhongli peeks over; at least the restaurant isn’t in flames unlike last time, when Xiao had taken great offense to Childe’s inability to wield chopsticks and left the comfort of Wangshu Inn to personally instruct him. “That was a good attempt,” he says, relief evident in his voice.
Xiangling’s eyes are wide in horror. “How did you even do that?”
“Huh.” Childe waves around his broken chopsticks. “I guess I overestimated how strong these would be.”
“Those are metal chopsticks!” Xiangling points aggressively, volume rising rapidly. “Metal chopsticks don’t just break like that!”
Childe blinks. And then he holds up a piece between two fingers and easily snaps it in half again.
Xiangling almost faints.
“What is going on here?” Instantly, the crowd of onlookers quiet as someone pushes past them into the restaurant.
It’s the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing herself, an air of dignity surrounding her, heels clicking as she walks into the room. Her eyes scan through the restaurant, narrowing ever so slightly when they land on Childe.
“Hello,” she says frostily, a diplomatic smile pasted on her face. “I see you are enjoying the food here.”
“Yeah, it’s really good.” Childe grins easily, doing a great job of ignoring the fact that he unleashed an ancient god on her nation and forced her to sacrifice her life’s work to stop it. “I’m not that great with chopsticks, so people are teaching me how to use them.”
“Is that so?” Ningguang eyes the broken pieces of metal on the table. “Would you like my assistance?”
Childe perks up. “Yeah, that’d be great!”
Zhongli watches with a growing sense of unease as Ningguang picks up a new pair of chopsticks, twirling them between her fingers. “Watch carefully now,” she says pleasantly.
And then she slams the chopsticks down, inches away from Childe’s hand, the sound echoing loudly through the restaurant.
Childe’s eyes almost bulge out of his head.
Ningguang then picks up a piece of chicken as if nothing happened. “Simple enough, isn’t it?” she smiles, and then shoves the food unceremoniously into Childe’s mouth. “With enough training, even someone like you could manage to do this.”
“Mrrrpf,” Childe says intelligently around the chopsticks.
Ningguang places the chopsticks delicately back onto the plate. “Well then, I must be going now. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in Liyue.”
The crowd parts quickly as she sweeps out of the restaurant just as fast as she appeared.
“Do you think she hates me?” Childe chews thoughtfully on the piece of chicken, looking relatively composed despite the confrontation. “Maybe I’m just imagining it.”
Zhongli sighs, and then he reaches into his robes and pulls out a small box. “Childe, I have something for you.”
“For me?” Childe perks up. “What is it?”
Zhongli opens the box, showing off the decorative chopsticks lying within. “I thought it would be beneficial if you could practice outside of our meals.”
“Oh sweet! These look pretty.” Zhongli despairs slightly as Childe grabs the sticks, one in each fist as if they were drumsticks. “Are you sure you want to give these to me though? Aren’t you afraid I’ll break them?”
“I have faith in your self-control,” Zhongli says mildly. At the doubtful look that Childe shoots him, he amends his statement. “I will purchase another pair if that happens.”
“Huh.” Childe stares down at the chopsticks with a fond smile on his face. “My first gift from you. I’m going to have to train extra hard now so I don’t let you down.”
Zhongli feels himself relax, returning Childe’s easy grin with one of his own. Even though this whole chopstick mastery journey has been nothing but excruciating pain to watch, Childe is still Childe after all; he’s brave and hardworking, a man who does his best to fulfill his promises, and the least Zhongli can do is believe in him.
“Ah crap,” Childe says as the chopsticks go flying.
“I love my job and all, but sometimes there’s too much work.” Childe’s balancing 5 Chicken-Mushroom Skewers in one hand, and Zhongli’s not sure how he can make that look so effortless when his attempts to wield chopsticks end much more disastrously. “That’s why I appreciate spending time with you.”
“I cherish our time together as well.” Zhongli graciously accepts one of the skewers, delicately nibbling at his as he watches Childe nearly swallow a skewer whole. “Are you certain there is not something else you would like to do?”
“Nah, sharing a meal with you is one of my favorite things to do.” Childe grins with no hesitation. Zhongli finds himself returning the smile; he always appreciates the other man’s bluntness and honesty.
Childe’s grin widens when he notices something in the distance. “Hey look, it’s another one of my favorite things to do.”
There is a group of hilichurls staring at them, weapons raised ready to attack. The two of them must have stumbled upon a monster camp. “Some light exercise after dinner?” Zhongli asks, summoning his weapon with the flick of a wrist.
“You don’t even need to ask.” Childe laughs, but then the expression slides right off his face and he looks down at his hands morosely. “Wait, my hands are all oily now. Won’t I get grease on my bow if I try to use it?”
“I do not think that the enemy cares if you get oil on your weapon,” Zhongli points out. When it becomes apparent that Childe himself does care, Zhongli changes tactics. “You have a hydro vision, do you not? Can you wash your hands off?”
“Oil and water do not mix. They teach that in basic cooking,” Childe says, looking scandalized. Zhongli has never cooked a dish in his very long life, so he thinks that this offense is probably forgivable, but Childe keeps on going as if they aren’t about to be attacked at any second now. “If I get my weapon greasy, it’ll take ages to clean it. It’ll throw my muscle memory off. What if—”
“Childe,” Zhongli interrupts as a hilichurl appears right behind them. “Watch out!”
In a motion as swift as water, Childe ducks under the incoming attack, twirls around, and lets one of the skewer sticks fly through the air.
It nails the monster in the center of the head.
Childe whirls around with a look of surprise on his face. “I got it!”
“You certainly did,” Zhongli praises with a smile. “Now, let us take care of the other enemies as well.”
“No, you don’t get it.” Childe beams in his direction. “I got how chopsticks work!”
Zhongli watches in awe as Childe raises two of the skewers with perfect chopstick technique; he never thought that this day would come, that all the pain and hardship they suffered would be rewarded. “Well done, Childe.”
“Thanks!” Childe clicks the two sticks together lightly and then throws one of them at an approaching enemy. “I knew I was battle-wired for a reason, heh.”
Zhongli smiles fondly as Childe lets out a whoop of excitement and charges in, skewer sticks brandished menacingly. The sun sets in the background, the orange hues accompanied by the sounds of dying and perishing and the laugh of a battle maniac.
All is peaceful.
When they head back to Liyue after the battle, hand-in-hand, Childe’s talking animatedly about something while waving around the chopsticks Zhongli gifted him with expert technique. Zhongli takes one look at him—from the bright grin on his face to the way his fingers carefully handle the chopsticks—and thinks that there’s no one else he’d rather share this sunset with.