This story contains spoilers from act three of the Liyue chapter.

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"Have you made progress with the bamboo shoots?"

"Just about done with them. They should be ready to boil in a moment." You answered the man with all the certainty you could muster, lest he thought something had gone awry. After making a shallow incision down the length of the shoot, you carefully peeled the leaves off and smoothed down the surface with a knife. The shoot was then roll-cut to equal lengths, and the very tip of the shoot was cut down the middle, just as he had taught you.

Finally, you were done.

The mere minutes it took to prepare a lot of bamboo shoots had felt like an eternity with the burden of Zhongli's expectations riding on your shoulders. The Archon in disguise spared you a moments glance at the sound of your sigh. He opened his mouth, ready to coax you into having a momentary break whilst he took care of the matter, but before he could even utter a word, you were back on your feet and ready to continue the task at hand.

"... That was fast," he remarked, though you didn't quite seem to hear it. A subtle smile formed on his lips as he watched you scurry around the kitchen, though his focus quickly went back to the boiling pot of pork belly before him.

The pot that you had left to preheat not long ago was starting to boil, and you quickly added in the cut-up shoots followed by a sprinkle of salt. Raw bamboo shoots contain a type of cyanide called 'taxiphyllin', you recall Zhongli words from awhile ago.

Though the chance of it killing you is unlikely, it can invoke discomfort, not to mention it's intense acridity, which renders the shoots to be virtually unpalatable. However, taxiphyllin deteriorates rapidly in boiling water, and it is a common method of removing the toxin from the bamboo shoots along with its astringency.

Whilst the bamboo shoots were detoxifying, you began to prepare the tofu sheets. It wasn't anything too complicated. The process consisted of folding, twisting and tying rectangular pieces of tofu sheets whilst taking the time between each knot to occasionally stir the boiling shoots. It didn't take long for you to make slightly more than a dozen of them.

Once the bamboo shoots had finished cooking, you brought both of them over to Zhongli, who hadn't moved an inch since the soup had started cooking. He assessed the ingredients one by one before placing them into the soup. You gave him an expectant look, to which he nodded and smiled.

"Considering that this is a dish you aren't too familiar with preparing, I say you've done well."

He nodded towards the empty chair. "Go on, have a seat, I can take care of things from here. It should only be an hour or so."

An hour... you barely suppressed a sigh. Still, you uttered your thanks to the man and headed over to take a seat.

The rest was definitely appreciated after the long day. You wanted to do something to commemorate this special occasion, as not only was the year coming to an end, but it also signified yet another passing year for the ex-Geo Archon in disguise, so why not do something special? Why not try something new? That was what you told Zhongli. He's a scrupulous man, and you knew that well, but had you expected the preparations to be so strenuous, perhaps you'd rethink the whole ordeal and grab a bite at Xinyue Kiosk or Liuli Pavilion instead.

Nevermind. The experience was a valuable one, something that shouldn't be overlooked so easily. Now the next challenge was figuring out how to pass the time...

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"The soup should be just about done now. Oh... did you fall asleep?" The sound of his voice roused you awake, though not in an unpleasant way.

After minutes of contemplation, a cup of chrysanthemum tea, and a brief nap, the wait was finally over. You clumsily stood up—still groggy from waking up only moments ago—and went to fetch the bowls and utensils as Zhongli carefully carried the claypot to the table.

There it was: Zhongli's specialty, slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup. You'd call it a masterpiece, but that was too much of an understatement.

It was almost too beautiful to eat, though your stomach said otherwise. With a doleful sigh, you stirred up the soup's contents, and Zhongli seemed to read your thoughts. "Don't worry too much about it, I can always make it again."

You scooped up the soup into a smaller bowl and began to dig in.

The dish was a perfect blend of concentrated aromas and textures. Sweet, salty, from the crunchy bamboo shoots to the tender pork belly, not a single bite lacked flavour.

You looked back up at Zhongli, who hadn't seemed to touch his bowl yet. Instead, his curious gaze was fixed on you, as if waiting to hear your thoughts.

"So? What do you think?" He asked, finally trying a spoonful. There were many things you wanted to say, but the only words that managed to leave your lips were "good, very good," which was then followed by the sound of his silvery laughter.

Both of you dined in the peaceful quietude, and it was after the two of you were done when you began to converse.

"So..." you began, "how did you learn how to make this dish?"

"I was taught by a friend of mine" Zhongli replied, a hint of nostalgia swirled in the depths of his amber eyes. "And this dish here is the culmination of all those years of refinement." He paused for a moment and sighed.

"'An interval of time is worth an ounce of gold.' Though that may hold true for mortals, to the likes of someone such as Rex Lapis, time held as much importance as a grain of sand along the shores of Yaoguang. As such, a day like this would be of trivial value to him, but to Zhongli..." His gaze fell onto the circular window beside him and to the scenery beyond. He stayed that way for a while, unmoving as stone, before turning back to you. This time he wore a peaceful smile on his face.

"Thank you for this. Even something as simple as preparing a dish can feel special under the right company. Though it is also days like these when I can't help but reminisce about the past..."

"Storytime? Well, I'm all ears."

He let out a soft chuckle at your words and took a moment to compose himself. There, as the year faded into that of an erstwhile memory, he began to tell a tale...

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