“You know, I could set my watch by you,” Childe said, placing a bowl of slow cooked bamboo shoot soup in front of his most reliable and constant customer.

“Is that so?” Zhongli looked up at him from his place at the bar, which faced the large window leading into the kitchen. The perfect place for Childe to lean on the ledge where he set food orders and chat with the knowledgeable consultant, because Sunday afternoons were slow and sometimes Zhongli was his only customer.

“Every Sunday, two pm,” Childe said. “I don’t even have to take your order at this point.”

Zhongli dipped a spoon into his soup, humming thoughtfully. “I suppose I have become predictable.”

“That’s fine, but is there something special about 2 pm at the Third Round Knockout?”

“There is.” Zhongli took a small bite of the soup, nodding his approval at the taste. “You are the only chef who can prepare this dish to perfection. I prefer the quiet, so I come at this hour. In addition, you are good company and pleasing to look at. I enjoy watching you cook.”

Childe made a slight choking noise, heat rushing to his cheeks, but after a moment he rallied. If this was his chance to get with the most attractive man in Liyue Harbor, he wasn’t going to mess it up.

“I’d bet I’d look even better cooking in your kitchen,” he said with a wink and a flirtatious grin.

“I have thought of that,” Zhongli answered gravely. “The slow cooked bamboo shoot soup takes approximately six hours to prepare, but much of that is waiting for the broth to absorb the proper flavor.”

“Trust me,” Childe said, leaning his hip against the table and tugging gently on Zhongli’s tie. Never let it be said that the best chef at Third Round Knockout lacked for nerve. “I could think of something for us to do.”