The next morning, Liyue's streets were suddenly crawling with strangers.
They came in pairs or in noisy little herds, all decked out in "authentic" Snezhnayan outfits—which mostly looked like someone's idea of fur-lined bathrobes. But louder. And shinier.
Most notably, they would not shut up.
Every third sentence was about milk tea. Every second was louder than the first.
Naturally, the curious Liyue folk began gathering around, drawn in like moths to flaming bullshit.
And sure enough, after a short listen, some of those curious folk walked away absolutely convinced:
"Did you hear? Snezhnayan milk tea is a national treasure!"
"Compared to that, Rainy Dew's stuff tastes like mop water!"
Unsurprisingly, this was a marketing ploy.
All of it—engineered by the Fat Merchant Chayevich and his golden-haired lackey.
They'd paid locals to fake Snezhnayan accents, dress up in the national cosplay, and hit the busiest streets to spread the "truth" about milk tea. Then they hired even more locals to act as "Liyue natives" who would overhear the fakes and loudly agree.
Psychology 101: When everyone around you believes something, you start to believe it too.
And Liyue, for all its wisdom, was not immune to mass delusion. Before long, the myth spread: Snezhnaya invented milk tea. Rainy Dew just copied the recipe.
…
"You're telling me milk tea is a Snezhnayan specialty?"
Eula stood among a gathering crowd, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.
It wasn't every day a Mondstadt girl met a herd of Snezhnayans in Liyue. Naturally, she leaned in to eavesdrop.
One of the fakers turned to her with suspicious enthusiasm. "Ah! You there! You have the noble air of a refined soul. Surely, you'll help us!"
"Help with what?" Eula asked, deadpan.
"They stole it," he said, eyes watering with award-winning fake emotion. "Rainy Dew stole our precious national recipe. Milk tea—it belongs to Snezhnaya!"
Eula's mood soured instantly.
She'd tasted that milk tea herself. Rainy Dew's iced version? Divine. A perfect 10/10 on the thirst-quenching, brain-freezing scale.
And it was Yanfei who'd introduced her to it.
Eula trusted Yanfei's judgment. Rainy Dew didn't steal anything.
Also, let's be real—Xu Zheng was like, what, five? The idea that a kid that small sneaked into Snezhnaya to commit recipe theft was so stupid it circled back around to offensive.
Her eyes narrowed.
"So you've chosen slander. Noted."
…
At Wanmin Restaurant, Eula arrived to find a familiar face waving from inside.
"Morning, Eula!" Yanfei called cheerfully. "You look like you just smelled a Fatui fart. Is this about the milk tea thing?"
Eula blinked. "You heard?"
Yanfei nodded. "Oh yeah. They're going full performance art out there."
Xiangling, who was just setting down their menus, looked confused. "Wait, what are you two talking about?"
Before either could answer, the front doors slammed open.
A burly man in flashy Snezhnayan attire stomped in, holding up a plate like it was a severed head.
"There's a bug in this dish!" he roared. "You serve insects here?!"
Xiangling rushed over. Sure enough, a wriggling bug was dancing across the plate like it owned the place.
She frowned. That… didn't make sense.
Wanmin Restaurant triple-washed their produce. She personally inspected every delivery. This shouldn't have happened.
But the bug was real. And alive. In hot food.
While she spiraled into anxiety, a calm, lazy voice cut through the tension:
"Wow. Congratulations. You just hit the jackpot."
"Huh?" The scar-faced man turned.
He looked down.
Standing at the entrance was a little boy, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mock wonder.
It was Xu Zheng.
"You're lucky, sir," he continued. "That bug's a rare one. Survived a full wok session. Must be worth a fortune."
The room went silent.
A few diners began to whisper.
"Wait… wasn't that a hot dish?"
"Yeah… that bug's still kicking..."
"Did he put it there himself?"
The scar-faced man started sweating.
People were connecting the dots. Loud guy. Bug. Snezhnayan clothes. Obvious setup.
"GET OUT!" someone yelled.
"YEAH, GET LOST!"
Rotten vegetables were thrown with alarming speed and accuracy. Someone nailed him right between the eyes with a limp cabbage.
As the faker scrambled to escape, Xu Zheng casually stuck out one foot.
Thud.
Face meet floor.
"You little—!" the man growled, raising a hand to strike.
A crystalline ice lotus suddenly bloomed before his face.
He froze.
Eula had entered the chat.
"You gonna hit me?" Xu Zheng asked sweetly.
"…nope."
"You sure? I mean, you did say I'd kill you to cover things up. Now might be your chance to test that theory."
The scar-faced man's skin turned grey. He'd said those exact words earlier. Now they sounded… terrifyingly plausible.
"I-I… there are witnesses! You can't just—"
"Oh? So what you're saying is, if there were no witnesses, then…"
"Wait, no, that's not—!"
Xu Zheng leaned in, voice low and spine-chilling.
"Ever heard of being drawn and quartered?"
The man blinked. Xu Zheng continued, sweet as poison.
"Five horses. One for each limb. And the head. Pulling in five different directions. Snap. One part tears off. The rest keep pulling. Fascinating, right?"
A dark wet patch appeared between the man's legs.
He collapsed in a heap.
"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"