Chapter Text
A few days later, Hu Tao, still buzzing with amusement from her last encounter with Zhongli, found herself back at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. This time, however, Zhongli greeted her with a different kind of expression, one that was calm, almost too calm, with a hint of something unreadable in his gaze.
"Hu Tao," Zhongli began, his voice smooth as polished stone, "since you've been so interested in the stories of Morax, I thought I might share with you a tale from his past. One that isn't as widely known."
Hu Tao's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Oh? Another hidden gem from Liyue's history? You have my full attention!"
Zhongli gestured for her to sit, his demeanor unusually serious. "This is not a story you'll find in any book, nor is it one that is shared lightly. It is a tale of what happens when those in Liyue took it upon themselves to spread falsehoods about the Geo Archon."
Hu Tao's playful grin wavered slightly, sensing the shift in Zhongli's tone, but she nodded, eager to hear more. "Do tell."
Zhongli leaned forward, his gaze fixed on her, and began. "Long ago, when Morax ruled over Liyue, there were some who thought it amusing to twist the truth, much like your recent tales. They spread lies, mocking the deeds of the Geo Archon, painting him as a fool, weak and afraid."
Hu Tao shifted in her seat, the weight of Zhongli's words pressing down on her. She could feel the gravity in his tone, each word carefully chosen.
"Morax was a god of contracts, of stone, unyielding and eternal. He valued truth and honor above all else. So, when he learned of these fabrications, he did not respond with mere words or reprimands. Instead, he let his actions speak, and the earth trembled beneath his wrath."
Zhongli's voice lowered, becoming almost a growl. "Those who dared to spread lies about Morax soon found themselves in the presence of the god himself. He did not need to raise a hand; his very presence was enough to crush them under the weight of their own deceit. The ground beneath them opened, swallowing their falsehoods whole, as the earth does with all things unworthy. Their voices, which once spread lies, were silenced forever, their tongues turned to stone."
Hu Tao's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in shock. "Turned to stone...?" she echoed, her usual bravado faltering.
Zhongli nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes. Stone, cold and unfeeling, just as the lies they had told. They became a part of the very earth they had mocked, a silent reminder to all who would dare to twist the truth for their own amusement."
The room seemed to darken, the air growing heavy with an unseen pressure. Hu Tao could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the vivid imagery of Zhongli's words filling her mind. For the first time, she began to doubt the wisdom of her playful stories.
"And what about those who merely listened to these lies?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Zhongli's gaze softened, but only slightly. "They were spared the same fate, but they were not left unmarked. Their hearts carried the weight of guilt, a burden that grew heavier with each passing day. For they knew that by listening, they too had played a part in the dishonoring of their god."
Hu Tao's playful demeanor had vanished entirely, replaced by a growing sense of dread. "Z-Zhongli... I didn't mean any harm with my stories. I was just having fun..."
Zhongli's expression remained stern, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes, perhaps a hint of amusement, buried deep beneath the surface. "Fun, Hu Tao, can sometimes come at a cost. And the price of dishonoring a god, even in jest, can be steep."
Hu Tao's eyes filled with fear, her usual confidence crumbling as she considered the consequences of her actions. She looked at Zhongli, searching for any sign of leniency, but found only the unwavering gaze of a man who had lived through the ages.
"I... I won't tell any more stories about Morax," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I promise."
Zhongli held her gaze for a long moment, letting her fear linger, letting it take root. Then, just as the tension reached its peak, he allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corners of his lips.
"Good," he said softly, his voice gentle now. "Because, Hu Tao, the story I just told you... it was just that, a story. A lesson, perhaps, to remind you of the power that words can hold, especially when they concern matters of great importance."
Hu Tao blinked, her fear quickly turning to confusion, then to realization. "You... you made that up?"
Zhongli nodded, his expression relaxing into something more familiar. "Indeed. But I hope it serves as a reminder that not all tales are meant to be taken lightly. There is power in stories, in the truths they hold and in the lessons they teach."
Hu Tao let out a shaky laugh, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You really had me there, Zhongli. I thought I was done for!"
Zhongli chuckled softly, the sound rich and deep. "That was never my intention, Hu Tao. But perhaps now you understand why some stories are best left untold."
Hu Tao nodded vigorously, her usual spark returning but tempered with newfound respect. "I do. I really do. No more funny business with Morax's past, I swear."
Zhongli gave her an approving nod. "I'm glad to hear it, Director Hu. And remember, stories have a way of shaping the world around us, so it's always wise to handle them with care."
As Hu Tao left the parlor, she couldn't help but glance back at Zhongli, her heart still pounding from the fear he had so expertly crafted. But as she walked away, she also felt a sense of relief, knowing that the lesson had been learned, and that she would think twice before playing with the past again.
Zhongli watched her go, a satisfied smile on his face. Sometimes, the most powerful lessons were those learned through experience. And Hu Tao, he knew, would not soon forget this one.
Epilogue: Reflections of Stone
As the door to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor closed behind Hu Tao, the room fell silent. Zhongli remained seated, his hands gently cradling his teacup. The faint aroma of Liyue's finest blend wafted through the air, but his mind was elsewhere, drifting back through the centuries.
He had told Hu Tao that the story was merely a fabrication, a lesson to instill caution in her playful nature. But as he sat in the quiet parlor, Zhongli couldn't help but reflect on the truth behind his words.
The story had not been entirely fictional. In the ancient days, when Morax ruled with an iron hand and unyielding will, his temper had been far less measured. Those who dared to twist the truth, who mocked the Archon or his contracts, had indeed faced a wrath that was as immovable as the mountains he shaped. Justice had been swift, and mercy had been scarce.
Zhongli took a slow sip of his tea, the warmth grounding him in the present. His gaze drifted to the window, where the sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows over Liyue Harbor. The city had changed much since those days, and so had he. The god who once ruled through fear and power had softened, his approach more tempered by wisdom and understanding.
But old habits, old memories, were hard to forget. The adepti, his old comrades, were beings of a different time, with a different sense of justice. If they had heard the tales Hu Tao spun in jest, their reaction might not have been as restrained. And so, Zhongli had chosen to protect her the only way he knew how: by instilling a fear that would prevent her from treading too close to dangerous truths.
He set the teacup down, his fingers tracing the delicate rim. Memories of the past stirred within him, fragments of old battles, of judgments passed down with a heavy hand. There had been times when his decisions, his actions, had left him questioning the very nature of his own justice. But those thoughts were his alone, buried deep within the stone walls of his heart.
A faint shiver ran down his spine as he recalled certain events, strange occurrences that had defied even his understanding. In the ancient days, he had been a god of stone, unbending and eternal, but there were moments, brief, fleeting, when even he had felt something beyond his control, something that had made him pause.
Zhongli shook his head, dismissing the lingering thoughts. The past was a weight he carried alone, and there were secrets that even he chose not to revisit. The world had moved on, and so had he, yet the echoes of those ancient days still lingered in the corners of his mind.
As he sat in the gathering twilight, Zhongli allowed himself a rare moment of introspection. Hu Tao had been frightened, but she was safe, and that was what mattered. The stories of Morax's brutal justice were best left in the past, buried like the ancient stones beneath Liyue's foundations.
With a deep breath, Zhongli rose from his seat and walked to the window, looking out over the harbor. The city was alive with the bustle of mortals going about their lives, unaware of the ancient memories that stirred within their protector. He smiled softly, a hint of melancholy in his eyes.
"Some stories," he murmured to himself, "are best kept as memories."
And with that, he turned away from the window, letting the past recede once more into the shadows where it belonged, hidden away like the secrets of the earth, known only to the rock and the stone.