Archive of Our Own

The ocean was a peaceful, beautiful place. 

Clouds of fish swim by in the shallows, scales sparkling as they move through the beams of sun that shine their way through the surface of the ocean, leaving pillars of light that one could weave through. Forests full of kelp, waving slowly as the currents brushed past them, hiding shy little creatures in their depths who peeked their heads out every once in a while to observe the world around them. 

The depths are a deep midnight blue, and the coral palace at the centre of the Feiyun kingdom lights everything up with its glittering pearls and spiraling towers. 

There was hardly a dispute to be found, all life seemingly suspended in a slow-moving, languid pace. As if you were simply meant to close your eyes and let yourself bend in the current.

As the second prince of the Feiyun kingdom, Xingqiu’s life was even more peaceful than most; he had less responsibilities than his brother and all the luxury in the sea. He could spend his days studying leisurely in the palace archives or explore the area around the kingdom. 

Yet, it was all so boring to him. 

Xingqiu was always a curious child; he wanted to explore beyond what he was allowed to do, what his family had decided he could do. He would, as a young mer, sneak out to the shore, observing the humans as they go about their busy, fast-paced life, and dip out of sight the moment anyone so much as glanced in his direction. 

(Not that they would have seen him, with his hair that seemed to blend into the sea.) 

It was always so noisy, so lively on the surface. There was such a large contrast between the unhurried pace of the ocean and the frantic ways the merchants would run around, papers spilling from their arms as they rushed to their next destination. 

The surface was so much more exciting than the ocean, and Xingqiu couldn’t help but be drawn to it all. 

His curiosity was only heightened when he had found a strange, bounded stack of papers one day, that someone had left behind in the cove. The human written language was much similar to his own; a bit simpler, but Xingqiu was an intelligent child, and would quickly pick it up each time he came back to the cove to read through the treasure that he had hidden away. 

It was a story; one about a “martial artist” who went on adventures and saw the world; a dynamic, wide world that was beyond anything Xingqiu had ever dreamed of. 

As vast as the ocean was, there was only so far you could go before it became too dangerous to swim, too cold to go on, too dark to see even your own hands stretched out in front of you. 

The thought that there was a vast, explorable world just waiting on the surface enthralled the young Xingqiu, and he would be more frequent with his visits to shore, desperately searching for leftover books whenever the sun went down and it became near impossible to see him. 

(Save for the tell tale glitter of a few golden scales, scattered about his dark sea green tail in intricate patterns, almost like embroidery) 

 Xingqiu grew under the influence of such adventure books, dreaming, hoping, wishing for a day where he could step onto the surface and explore it himself. 

But his father keeps him safe in the kingdom, paranoid of the dangers of the human kingdom, and Xingqiu, for now, can only gaze at the beautiful outside from the inside of the small bubble that’s surrounded him his entire life. 

He might have lived that way forever, endlessly gazing upon the human civilization with wistful sighs and faraway dreams.

That is, until he sees him. 

A real life, in the flesh martial artist, holding a giant sword over his shoulder and swinging with strength that he could only read about in books. The boy looks to be the same age as him, with hair and eyes as blue and light as the sky, far above and high out of Xinqiu’s reach. 

He watches the martial artist train, watches with wide eyes and a beating heart, excitement coursing through his veins. Here it was, his dream personified, standing right in front of him and showing him it was real. 

The human world; the world he saw in his books, no longer seemed so far away anymore, and unable to contain his giddiness Xingqiu races his way back to the kingdom, leaving a flurry of bubbles in his wake. It’s undignified, childish swimming, clashes hard with the elegance of his gold speckled tail, but the merboy is too happy to care. 

“No!” 

The shout echoes through the room and Xingqiu flinches back at the slam of his father’s fist against the arm of his throne. 

“The human world? My son, you must have gone insane; do you even know of the danger?!” His father’s eyes are frantic, wide as he glares at his son.

His brother tries to placate him, “Father, I think it would be best to calm-” 

“You,” he hisses, trident pressing against his brother's throat, “know nothing about the greed of humans; it is endless. If they find you you will be skinned!”  

Xingqiu feels the familiar burn of tears behind his eyes, but he holds them back and darts forward with a puff of his chest. 

“I have never asked you for—”

“This is too much! What do you want out there that you cannot have here? Where it’s safe?”

“I want to see the world father, perhaps we could even form a treaty with the humans and business—” 

“I will not be accepting such a ridiculous idea! Leave at once— go back to your quarters.” 

“But—” 

“Guards!” his father yells, and he is immediately surrounded. He knows that he couldn’t possibly try to run for it now, and he slinks back in submission. “Make sure he doesn’t swim out of there!”

Xingqiu feels himself being led back to his bedroom, and bites back the sobs that he can feel lodged in his throat. 

The guards gently close the door behind him, giving him sympathetic smiles and wishing him good night. 

He does not need their sympathy; what could they possibly understand? Content in this tiny bubble of life. Xingqiu feels frustration rush through his veins, and buries his face in his hands. 

It’s hopeless. He thinks to himself, curling up on his bed of anemone and trying not to cry. 

Then he hears a clink on his window. 

Xingqiu snaps his gaze to the area where the noise had come from, wondering with mild panic what it might’ve been. 

Stay strong, be calm, be like the heroes in your books. 

He takes a deep breath and narrows his eyes, squinting to get a better view in the dark. 

The two guards had fallen asleep outside his window. 

Hope instantly returns to him, and feeling reenergized, the young prince quickly devises a plan, rushing through his room to gather the materials he needs. 

He’s going to go to the surface. No matter what. 

It’s surprisingly easy to slip out of his room tonight. The city is more quiet than usual, and he doesn’t even need to duck behind a single guard. 

But Xingqiu’s mind is swirling with emotions; the martial artist he’d seen that day, his confrontation with his father, so he pays no mind to this and continues to swim through the silence. 

When he starts to veer off the usual routes, when the kelp forest starts to become thicker and thicker around him, tangling around him as if trying to trap him, he thinks of going back. But he remembers the brave heroes from the stories and continues on, heart thumping heavily in his chest. 

The air around him starts to grow thick, and it becomes hard to breath. Wherever he looks, the shadows seem to move, darting around him in a dizzying pattern. 

Xingqiu pushes onwards, until he sees the faintest flicker of light ahead of him. 

He’s heard rumours before, about the sea witch of the abyss who lived deep in the kelp forests. How she practiced fearsome magic that would curse all merfolk for eternity to come. 

Xingqiu scoffs, inwardly. To them, having a pair of legs would probably be a curse. 

If there’s anybody who knows how to get him on land and away from this boring, slow-moving, all-too-peaceful kingdom, it would be her. 

He swallows the last of his apprehension as he approaches the mouth of the cave, flicking his tail behind him as he tries to weave through the messy entrance without knocking over anything. 

“Is there anyone here?” he calls out, looking around as his skin prickles. 

He feels like he is being watched, and even in the light it feels like the shadows are following him. 

“Hello— Ah!” he cries, when he feels something sneak up behind him. It’s a truly unpleasant feeling, cold and suffocating, so much so that he doesn’t dare to look at what is behind him. 

He sees traces of gossamer hair, blinding white against the dark of the cave, black tendrils floating through the water as she whispered in his ear. 

“I know what you seek, child,” she says, her voice coming out as a raspy whisper. It sends shivers up his spine and he freezes. 

She laughs. It’s sharp and high and stings his ears. 

“How foolish are the mers, to look so badly upon humankind.. Don’t you agree?” 

Xingqiu blinks, “I… I just want to go to the surface.” 

She begins to hum, and the tune that comes out gives him chills. “So a pair of legs is what you seek.” 

He nods, finding his throat unable to speak against the overwhelming pressure. 

Another laugh, somehow worse than the last. She presses a bottle into his hand; it’s bright red and seems to pulse with life. 

“Then legs you will have. Though it will hurt.” 

So he takes the medicine, close to the shore. 

It burns as it goes down his throat and it feels like his entire body is on fire, like his tail was being split open. 

It’s a good thing he was still underwater. 

When Xingqiu wakes up, there is one thing he is very aware of, and that is the fact that his entire body feels sore with pain. 

It hurts to move, but he bites his lip through it, pushing himself to a sitting position even as his head pounds. There’s a rushing sound nearby, it’s loud and he reaches his hands up to cover his ears. The sudden light shocks his system when he opens his eyes, so he squeezes them shut and tries to wait for the pain to pass. 

There’s a distant noise, and the heat of the sun finally cools a little bit. He hadn’t even noticed how hot it was. 

“Are you alright?” he hears, the voice deep and filled with concern. Xingqiu’s eyes snap open with panic, eyes wide and frightened as he opens them to the sight of the prettiest sky blue he’s ever seen, blinking down at him in confusion. 

He opens his mouth, but nothing but a few croaks come out. His throat feels so dry; he’s never felt so dry in his entire life. 

Xingqiu gasps, and glances down toward his tail— then realizes it’s not there anymore, a pair of thin legs in its place. 

Memories rush back to him, and the mix of emotions swirl around him until he's a little lightheaded with delight. He doesn’t even notice the look of awe on his face, or the increasingly worried look of the person who found him, as he tries to bring himself up the stand. 

Oh gods, I have legs I have legs I have— 

“Oof—” his breath rushes out of his body as his legs buckle beneath him and he falls, about to hit the ground when someone catches him. 

Oh. Right, there was another person here. 

“Don’t try to stand up so fast,” they say, voice calm.

Xingqiu finally turns, tries to get a good look at his companion and is greeted with a head of fluffy blue hair. As if his delight wasn’t enough before, he almost beams at the sight of the martial artist he’d seen from shore. 

“Hold on, I’ll take you to the palace.” 

Before he can even get his bearings, he feels himself being hoisted onto the other boys back and being covered by some sort of sheet. The boy starts to walk, and even through his discomfort and pounding head he still marvels at every little thing. 

He sees a strange little creature; it looks nothing like a bird. It’s small and delicate looking and he points to it frantically before the martial artist tells him to stop. But it’s so hard to contain himself when every turn was something entirely new, when the city was so much more lively that he’d thought; bigger, brighter, more exciting. There are people everywhere and Xingqiu gawks at the colourful flying birds held on strings by little children. 

Oh lords this was wonderful.

“Chongyun!” he calls out, trying to contain his excitement as he approaches the other boy. 

The blue-haired boy raises his head at Xingqiu’s call, and cocks his head to the side. It reminds him of one of the many cats of Liyue— slitted eyes and docile in the sun. “Ah, Xingqiu, how are you doing?” 

“Nevermind that,” he says, grabbing Chongyun’s arm, “you must come see what I’ve found.” 

It’s been a week since he’d arrived in the palace, Chongyun carrying him on his back. If Xingqiu were to be honest, he remembers next to nothing about the day, being absolutely giddy out of his mind and apparently quite a bit more injured than he thought. 

“What is it?” Chongyun asks, letting himself get dragged away from where he was initially, polishing his sword. 

Xingqiu had learned, disappointingly, that Chongyun was not a martial arts master, but the title of exorcist was almost as respectable, and leagues more exciting than anything he’d ever seen in the ocean. 

“I found a treasure trove!” Xingqiu exclaims, keeping his pace as fast as possible without running through the halls of the palace; King Zhongli had been kind enough to let him stay, after all, the least he could do was at least look respectable. 

“Treasure? The palace treasury? Did His Majesty give you the key—” 

“Look!” Xingqiu cries, opening the doors. He had found this place in the morning and wanted to show it to Chongyun immediately, “treasure!” 

It was a room filled with books, and he had never seen so many in his life. He hadn’t opened any yet— rushing off immediately to complete one of the tasks given to him in exchange for his stay. 

“The… accounting room?” Chongyun asks, brushing his fingers across the books, watching with muted interest as dust gathered on the tip of his finger. 

“Accounting? Don’t you see, there are books everywhere!” 

So perhaps he lost a bit of shame in front of the exorcist boy, no matter. He had already seen him at his worst when he’d first washed up on Liyue, practically like a child who had been allowed to go outside for the first time. 

(In all fairness, that is exactly what he was). 

“Do you enjoy reading these books?” Chongyun says, flipping through one of them, “I don’t quite see what is so interesting about such long strings of numbers.” 

“Numbers?” 

“This is the accounting room, they keep some financial records here.” 

“Can you tell stories with numbers?” 

Chongyun gives him an odd look— no matter, he was used to it these days. Like the time he’d asked him if it was possible to touch the sky. “That’s a very interesting question,” he says, placing his fingers on his chin, “I’ve never seen it done, though.” 

“Ah, then I suppose my excitement was wasted,” he sighs, feeling a little bit disappointed. He had been looking for such a place for ages; had heard of them in the books he’d read, but the servants avoided him and Chongyun was the only one he could talk to, and the boy had been busy as of late. 

As if the universe had read his thoughts, a bell chimes, its sound ringing through the castle.

Xingqiu deflates a little on the inside, he’d wanted to spend more time with the other boy. “Is your break over now?” 

Chongyun nods, “I must get back to my exorcisms, this spirit has been particularly hard to trace,” he sighs. 

Xingqiu perks up at that, “maybe I can help!” 

“Do you know about exorcism?” Chongyun asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“No, but two heads are always better than one,” he chirps, linking his arms through Chongyun’s, “Come on then, we’ve no time to waste!” 

He watches, leaning forward as Chongyun performs a ceremony to pinpoint where the spirit would be. 

There are flashes of light and papers fluttering, and Xingqiu thinks that no sight in the ocean could possibly compare to such a fantastical thing; he’d had no idea such things like this existed outside of his books. 

Chongyun lifts his head, eyes snapping open. “It’s in the kitchen,” he says, already moving to catch the spirit. 

“Are you simply going to find it there?” Xingqiu asks. Are spirits stationary? 

“I hope that we do, though this spirit has been quite slippery,” he furrows his brows, one of the rare expressions on his face. 

Xingqiu thinks it's cute, much like the tiny guppies that he’d see around the reefs. 

“Perhaps it’s simply running away from you?” he suggests, half-joking. 

The exorcist seems to have an epiphany, eyes brightening as he lifts his head. “Ah, that must be it.” 

Xingqiu bursts out into laughter, “has that idea never occurred to you?” 

“I… my inexperience has revealed itself, I apologize,” Chongyun says, and Xingqiu thinks he sees the faintest tint of a blush on his cheeks. 

How amusing. 

“Aren’t you a professional exorcist?” Xingqiu decides to prod some more, the other boy's reactions fill him with a sort of glee he’d never felt before, warm and light. 

Chongyun turns away, and he thinks he sees a trace of red on his ears. “Nevermind that, I have a method for capturing spirits like these.” 

Xingqiu giggles, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Of course, dear Chongyun.” 

They manage to capture the spirit, and Chongyun decides to treat him to dinner in Liyue as thanks, even though the kitchen had offered to cook them something in return for their services. 

“This is all quite new for me,” he admits to him over a meal of crystal shrimp and cold noodles. 

Xingqiu picks at his shrimp parcels, picking out the horrendous little orange things. “Exorcism? Were you not called to the palace for your experience?” 

Chongyun sighs, “I am not experienced. Spirits simply run away from my presence.”

“Like that spirit today?” 

“Yes.” 

“How did you capture the other spirits, then?” Xingqiu inquires, inspecting his crystal shrimp. He frowns. Why are there so many orange things? 

Chongyun chokes on his noodles a bit, and coughs. “Uhm. That….” he mumbles the rest out and Xingqiu has to strain his ears. 

“Pardon?” 

“... that was… the first spirit I’ve caught… in the past week…” 

There is a moment of silence, and Xingqiu begins to laugh. 

Chongyun fumbles in his seat, and he looks so cute sitting there like that it only fills Xingqiu with more glee. 

“How adorable,” he says between fits, and if possible, Chongyun gets a little redder. 

“Please do not tease me so,” he says, “It is bad for my condition.” 

“You mean your… congenital positivity?” He takes a bite out of the now orange-pelletless crystal shrimp. It’s delicious, and he lets out a little sound of delight. “These are wonderful!” 

Shrimp was something he had eaten in the sea before, and even though it was prepared differently from what he was used to, it still reminds him a little bit of the ocean. 

(He misses it, just a little, but not enough to go back.) 

“I’m glad you enjoy them,” Chongyun says, reaching a hand over. It brushes over Xingqiu’s cheek, and the mer feels his breath stop in his throat for a moment, the sound of blood roaring in his ears as it rushes to his cheeks. “You’ve gotten a little bit here.” Chongyun explains, thumbing at his cheek a little harder. The other boys cheeks are still a little red from the teasing, but Xingqiu has the feeling that his own are much redder. 

Xingqiu’s heart beats fast. Like when he’d gotten to a particularly interesting part of a martial arts novel. 

“T-thank you,” he says, and Chongyun blinks. 

“Are you feeling sick?” 

“No,” he mumbles, trying not to look at the other boy, “just a little warm, is all.” 

He convinces himself that’s it, but he’s a little bit more aware of the other boy after that, of the way his heart thumps pleasantly in his chest and the way he feels a little bit lightheaded. 

Chongyun had been much more free as of late, since he’d figured out why he hadn’t been able to get rid of the palace’s spirits. 

“I usually just have to sit there,” he explains as they walk through the palace halls side-by-side. “But it seems the palace is so big that they simply find a new place to hide.” 

Xingqiu hums. They had just finished exorcising another spirit, this one hiding in the cellar until Chongyun had vanquished it with a seal. 

“Don’t you prefer it when you don’t need to chase them around?” 

Chongyun shakes his head. “No, I much prefer this, I feel as if I am a real exorcist.” 

“Weren’t you always?” Xingqiu asks, as they turn a corner. 

“It felt as if I wasn’t working at all,” he says quietly, “as if I could get to my goals just by doing nothing.”

Xingqiu stops walking, and Chongyun stops in front of him in confusion. “Even so, that’s amazing.” 

“How? I’m simply lazing around.” 

He shakes his head. “But I see you practicing your exorcisms every day, most people would simply take that as a sign that they are prodigies and never try to improve themselves.” 

“Well, I—”

“You still seek to become better, dear Chongyun, and I think that’s very impressive all in itself.” 

The people in the ocean were like that. Content in their slow, monotone life in a bubble, never wanting to escape from its safe embrace. 

Chongyun stares at him as if he were a creature he’d never seen before. Cheeks a little bit red, and Xingqiu soon begins to feel a little bashful himself. 

Had he said something odd?

“I—”

“You say very pretty things, sometimes.”

“I— what?’

Chongyun nods, as if satisfied with the conclusion he’s come to. “Ah, we are almost there.” 

“Where are you taking me, by the way?” 

They resume their walking, and soon come across a set of large stone doors. 

“Here.” Chongyun answers simply, pushing on the doors. 

They open with a creak, and Xingqiu’s jaw drops. 

Books. Everywhere. Up to the ceilings. Covering the walls. 

The afternoon sun shines through the panes of a large glass window, little particles of dust illuminated by its glow as they floated their way through aisles upon aisle of books.

This is beyond anything he had ever dreamed. Each shelf seems to hold hundreds, maybe thousands, of thick, leather bound books, each one shining as if begging for him to read. 

“Xingqiu?” he hears Chongyun ask from his side, worried, “I’m sorry, do you not like it?” 

Ah. There are tears falling down his cheeks. He reaches a hand up to wipe them way, just as Chongyun’s come up to cup at them, wiping away the tears with a concerned look on his face. 

Xingqiu sniffs, loud. The sight fills him with emotion, and he isn't quite sure why. 

“I… I just…” he sobs, “It’s… I never thought…” 

He is being so undignified right now. His father and brother would be appalled. 

More tears spill from his eyes, and Chongyun wipes them away. 

His voice cracks when he speaks, “I’m so happy, I love it, It’s beautiful.” 

Chongyun’s face softens, “That is good, I thought that I’d upset—”

His sentence gets cut off when Xingqiu hugs him, still crying. “Thank you,” he cries, “thank you so much.” 

A hand comes up to rub at his back. It’s comforting. Warm and gentle. It makes his heart beat steadily in his chest. 

After, when he’s done crying, he drags Chongyun all through the library, the books making him completely forget about earlier. 

“There’s a whole section dedicated to martial arts!” he says with excitement, golden eyes glittering with excitement and cheeks flushed. 

He’s so caught up in it all he doesn’t even notice the entranced look that Chongyun has on his face, watching the other boy’s face light up in excitement, smile brighter than the sun.

They’re in the library every chance that they get, Xingqiu leading the way most of the time with Chongyun trailing obediently behind.  

It’s mostly so that he can read, and Chongyun doesn’t mind; it gives him a chance to meditate, a chance to polish his claymore, or simply take a small nap. 

But lately, he’s found his gaze being drawn more and more to the strange boy he’d found washed up in a cove.

Xingqiu seems to get more and more beautiful by the day, sunlight turning the ends of his hair translucent and making his golden eyes sparkle. He’s all smooth, pale skin and looks so soft that Chongyun finds himself wanting to reach out, brush aside strands of thin blue hair the colour of the sea that had fallen over his delicate nose.

His lashes are long, brushing against his cheek every time he blinks, his lips a beautiful plush pink that has Chongyun wondering what they feel like. 

He catches himself staring, more and more often, at the beautiful boy, heart squeezing in his chest as an unfamiliar but pleasant warmth rushes through him. 

Months pass like that. Days spent in the libraries and chasing down spirits. Eventually, each and every spirit that had haunted the palace halls had been exorcised, and Zhongli had called them in to congratulate them. 

“It was simply my duty, and I could not have done it without Xingqiu,” he says, “he deserves just as much credit as I, your highness.” 

“Of course,” Zhongli says, hand on his chin, “that is why I have called him here today.” 

Xiao ducks his head. “As thanks for your contributions, we invite the both of you to the Lantern Rite celebration in the palace.” 

The exorcist lifts his head, “Such an invitation, I couldn’t—”

“You must come,” Zhongli says, “it is only thanks to you that we are able to hold this celebration, after all.” 

Xiao nods. “We will give you all that you need to prepare yourselves for such an event, so do not fret; and of course, you will be rewarded handsomely on top of that.” 

“I…” 

“It would be rude to decline,” Xingqiu smiles, and Chongyun purses his lips. 

“We accept your invitation, thank you for your generosity.” 

Zhongli smiles, it's surprisingly warm. “No, we thank you for everything you’ve done.” 

When they’re out of the throne room, Chongyun finds himself so overwhelmed that he hugs Xingqiu, pulling the other boy close to his chest. The meeting with the king had him heating up with nerves, and he feels a little bit lightheaded.

More bold than he’d be normally, he laughs into the crook of XIngqiu’s shoulder. “Thank you, friend,” he says, smiling.

Xingqiu’s cheeks are pink in the cute little way they get sometimes, and he’s smiling back at him. He can’t remember what his life was without the other boy anymore, without his teasing smiles and the flipping of pages at his side.

“You did it!” Xingqiu says, and Chongyun finds his smile growing wider. 

“ We did it, I truly couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Xingqiu is silent for a moment, “I’m glad I met you, Chongyun.” 

The statement sends a rush through him, and he feels the pace of heart pick up in his chest. “I’m glad I met you too.” 

They quickly realize how close they are together, and pull away with flushed cheeks. 

It wasn’t quite fair, how pretty Xingqiu was in the light. It did things to his heart that he’s never felt before, makes him want to pull the boy close and never let go. 

Perhaps he had been a little too excited recently. 

Xingqiu can’t help but think of this as he eyes the outfit laid out on his bed. It’s a beautiful black, embroidered with fancy gold patterns over the chest and on the cuffs of the sleeves. There’s a faint, dark-blue green pattern over it that gives it some texture, and the light reflecting off of it gives it a luxurious look. 

He had been acting like a fool, lately, such an outfit did not suit him. 

There is the sound of festivity outside, in Liyue harbour and for once, it isn’t a welcome sound. He can’t help but feel nervous, there was a strange atmosphere about the palace, something that made his skin prickle like it had all those months ago in the kelp forest. 

Surely it was all in his mind?

He tries to shake off the feeling as he slips into the robe, fiddling with the buttons. The servants had shown him how to do it up— they’d been much friendlier lately, after seeing how he’d helped with the exorcisms. 

He hears a knock at his door, and he’s suddenly nervous for a different reason. 

These clothes felt so silly— he was used to something a little simpler, or nothing at all, back when he was the ocean. No matter he looks at himself in the mirror, he can’t seem to make sense of it.

Had he even done it up right? Would Chongyun laugh at him? Call him a fool?

The thought is ludicrous, but it makes him feel dread all the same.

“Xingqiu?” He hears the familiar call of his name, and pushes down the bundle of nerves in the base of his stomach. 

“Chongyun! I’ll be right there!”

He rushes to the door, twisting the knob open. 

Chongyun is standing there, face calm as usual. 

But it’s anything but what he’s used to. 

There’s a mask dangling on the side of his head, a light blue colour adorned with gold accents, and he’s wearing a robe different from usual, no odd hood in sight. There’s a bit of red around his eyes, and Xingqiu recognizes it as the strange powder that had been placed on him earlier, it makes Chongyun’s blue eyes pop, and the boy looks even more handsome than usual. 

The sigh has Xingqiu turning red, his previous discomfort forgotten as his stomach does flips. 

Chongyun isn’t faring much better, as he awkwardly reaches out a hand. “Let’s go,” he says, but it's lower, hoarser than usual. And Xingqiu for once finds himself with nothing to say, simply nodding his head. 

Their walk there is filled with uncomfortable silence, nothing like the atmosphere at the library. There are nerves bubbling all through his body and he feels as if he might faint at any second. 

Chongyun keeps glancing over to him. 

“Do I look odd?” he asks, peeking out through his bangs. He’s never been this flustered in his life. 

The blue-haired boy doesn’t answer, and for a dreadful moment Xingqiu thinks that he was right. 

“You look very pretty,” Chongyun finally says, but it comes out as a mumble and Xingqiu only hears it because of how eagerly he’d been waiting for the answer.

“Thank you,” he says, “you look quite handsome, yourself.” 

Chongyun turns a little red. “Are you teasing me?” 

“No, I speak the truth. You look very nice tonight.” 

“I… Thank you…” Chongyun manages to get out as they reach the room where the celebration was taking place. It’s lively inside, the sound of people talking excitedly among themselves filling Xingqiu’s ears. 

This time, it eases a bit of his panic, though he isn’t quite sure why. 

The doors to the room open for them, the servants bowing. One of them sends him a wink, and though he isn’t sure what it's for, it makes him fluster nonetheless. 

There are tables and tables of food inside, piled high with foods he’d never seen before. Pots that seem shine gold, crab and generous slices of meat piled on top, deserts in the shape of lotus flowers. 

Chongyun seems just as stunned as he is, “There’s more than I was expecting,” he says softly, and Xingqiu laughs. 

“It’s a party for the rich, after all,” his nerves from earlier have subsided a bit, and he links his arm with Chongyun’s, as he’s done many times before, “We should enjoy it while it lasts.” 

They don’t really talk to any of the business people there, a few of them coming to thank them for clearing the palace of spirits so they could have their celebration tonight.

Chongyun always responded in earnest, bowing. The little mask on his head would nearly fall off every time, and Xingqiu adjusts it with a giggle. 

The food was every bit as delicious as it was beautiful, and he spots Xiao in the corner of his eye, plate piled high with almond tofu. 

“It’s a shame you can’t have anything warm,” he says to Chongyun, who had been relegated to cold noodles and deserts for the night. 

“I’m used to it,” he says, “besides, I prefer my food like this.” 

They had moved out to the balcony, where it was easier to talk and see the lights of the city. 

It was beautiful, and Xingqiu feels grateful for the fact that he had left the ocean. 

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before,” he whispers, a rare admittance, “everything back home is so mundane; there isn’t anything like this.” 

“Is that why you left?” Chongyun asks, and he nods. 

“I wanted to see the world, but my family wouldn’t let me.” 

He leans forward, against the railing, looking down at the sea of lanterns. They moved as the people carrying them pushed through the clouds, making a river of flowing light that waxed and waned, pulsing with life. 

Chongyun isn’t looking at the festival, though. 

His eyes, the colour of a clear sky, are fixated on Xingqiu. 

“Chongyun?” he asks, tearing his gaze away from the sight below him to give the other boy a questioning look. 

“You know, you are much more beautiful than the lights below.” 

And then there’s a soft pressure on his lips, he gasps. 

The people below release the lanterns, and they rise to sky as Chongyun threads his fingers through his hair, lips pressed against his. 

His other hand entangles with Xingqiu’s own, hanging by his side as he stood, frozen with shock. The other boy is surprisingly warm, even though he avoids those kinds of things like the plague.

He finds himself melting into the kiss, closing his eyes and squeezing Chongyun’s hand. He squeezes back, and the pressure sends tingles up his arm. His heart feels as if it might burst from his chest at any moment, his face radiating heat as the kiss goes on. 

When the other boy pulls away, he finds that he’s a little short on breath. 

Xingqiu is trembling a little bit. His head is still whirling with what had just happened; he feels lightheaded and giddy, like he might faint on the spot. 

Chongyun doesn’t look any better than he, face flushed and breaths short. He looks terrified, though, cat-like eyes wide with terror. 

“I’m so sorry.” He says, before turning and pushing his way through the party, leaving Xingqiu alone on the terrace, still wondering what had just happened. 

So that’s what happens when you touch the sky. 

The next day, he finds that it’s become impossible to concentrate on his martial arts novel. Usually, Chongyun would be seated next to him, but when he’d approached the exorcist this morning, he’d avoided his gaze and told him he needed to pack. 

Without his knowledge, his mouth had twisted into a frown, and he’d already lost his place in the book. Feeling frustrated and a little upset for a reason he couldn’t quite discern, Xingqiu slams the book closed and pushes it away from him, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout. 

What is wrong with him? He thinks, picking apart the other boy’s actions and trying to make sense of them. 

Memories of the night before rushes into his head all of a sudden, and Xingqiu flushes red. His face feels overly warm, and he reaches his hands up to cool them, feeling flustered all of a sudden. 

“What is wrong with me ?” he whispers, unable to get the thought of the blue-haired exorcist out of his mind. 

“First of all, the fact that you are skipping out on the work that our benevolent King has given you,” a voice sounds from behind him. It’s a little similar to Chongyun’s; the reminder has his heart racing. 

Xingqiu whirls around, staring at the intruder with wide eyes. “I-I was just cleaning the tables—” 

Xiao sighs, walking over to his discarded book and picking it up. He waves it around, “That’s certainly not what it looks like.” 

Deep breaths. He tries to calm himself, pushing his blush down with sheer will and letting his usual smile take its place. “The head maid simply asked that I take a break, and so I came here.” 

“Is that so?” Xiao says, thumbing through the pages of the book. Xingqiu feels a little embarrassed, being caught reading it, but he manages to maintain his composure. 

“Of course, what reason would I have to lie?”

The royal advisor hums, “Well, according to the head maid, you’d also dropped twenty plates this morning.”

“And I was asked to take a break.” It comes out a little more forcefully than he’d like it to. 

“I don’t have time to deal with incompetent workers,” Xiao says, and Xinqiu flinches, “but since you’ve helped clear the castle of spirits, I’ll overlook it.” He hands the book back over to him, and Xingqiu takes it, slow and careful with his movements. “I don’t suppose this has to do with the kiss you had with the exorcist, does it?” 

Xingqiu squeaks, and the book drops onto the floor. “I— excuse me?”

“So quick to lose your composure,” Xiao says, “I will never understand this kind of meandering; simply confess that you like each other? It’s quite a simple solution.” 

“Of course I like him!” Xingqiu says, averting his gaze, “It’s he that has some problem with me.” 

A scoff. “Such stupidity, I mean the like that couples share with each other, the one’s in your little books.” 

“That’s…” 

“I’ve wasted enough time here,” Xiao says, “figure the rest out yourself.” 

He leaves, and as the library doors click shut, Xingqiu sinks to his knees and buries his face in his hands, turning as red as the coral at the bottom of the ocean. 

And then he remembers something else. 

“I-I’m sorry Xingqiu, I… need to pack.” 

Pack? Chongyun was leaving?

He stands up, feeling clarity rush through him. It was as if his confusion and his sudden panic had fused together, and only a sense of urgency remained. Ignoring how foolish he must have looked, he rushes through the halls to Chongyun’s room. 

When he gets there, he catches the other boy walking out, luggage bag in hand, and he practically jumps him. 

“A-ah, Xingqiu?!” 

They topple onto the floor together, Chongyun’s luggage splitting open and spilling its contents everywhere. 

“Don’t go!” 

Chongyun stills under him, and brings a hand up to his chin, lifting it out of his chest and forcing Xingqiu to look at him. 

“You’re crying again,” he states, furrowing his brows together in the way that Xingqiu had become so fond of. 

“Of course I am— you’ve ignored me this whole day and now I hear that you’re leaving?” 

“I—”

“I like you!” Xingqiu grabs him by the collar and pulls him in. The other boy’s eyes widen in surprise, cheeks brightening with how close they were to each other.  

“I… I… you…” 

“And I don’t want you to leave!”

He buries his face in the other boy’s chest, he smells nice, and it calms him enough to notice the hand tapping his back. 

“I’m only going back to my home in Liyue,” he says, “It’s not far from here, I was going to come back and tell you afterwards.” 

“Why would you do such a thing? You could have told me right away.” 

“I…” the other boy trails off, flustered, “I was embarrassed to face you, after what I had done last night.” 

“I was too,” Xingqiu whispers, and he’s suddenly much more aware of how close they are. 

He closes the distance between them, and it’s just as nice as he remembers. A rush of warmth, the pleasant feel of Chongyun’s lips on his. 

They started their life together in Liyue, after that. 

It was wonderful— and Xingqiu feels more and more grateful for his decision to leave the ocean. He thinks of this, when they lay together at night, when Chongyun dozes off before him, when he wakes up to a head of sky blue hair and soft lips on the crown on his head. 

His days are filled with light and the bustle of the city, Chongyun by his side. His heart felt full and more alive than it ever had in the depths of the ocean, when he’d been alone and bored of his life. 

They talk of exploring the rest of the region; he learns that there are even more, seven entire regions worth of sights to see. Chongyun kisses him when he gets excited, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the surface.

But there’s a feeling in his chest, something dark and familiar. 

Along with his joy, it grows, and between kisses and hugs, visits to restaurants and days spent in the library, he thinks that he sees shadows moving in the corner of his eyes. Laughs that echo through the alleyways, sharp and high and grating against his ears. 

And then, the first report. 

It comes in one morning, frantic knocking at their door. It’s the owner of a restaurant that they frequent, and when they open it, they’re greeted to his terrified expression. 

“A spirit! It’s possessed my daughter— I… you have to help her, she’s so young and—”

“Calm down,” Xingqiu says, “Come in for some tea, and you can explain what’s happened.” He glances back to Chongyun, who nods, expression stern but unworried. 

The man sits down, shaking. “She— we saw a spirit, it was hiding in the shadows and then it jumped out at us.”

As he continues to talk, the first crack’s form in the unease that Xingqiu had sealed away. He swallows it down, puts on a gentle smile. 

Surely, he’s just imagining things, right? 

When they get to the house of the restaurant owner, Chongyun’s bags packed with tools for exorcism, the feeling of dread only grows.  

“She’s not waking up,” Chongyun says, his voice tight. 

Xingqiu tries to calm him, even though his own emotions are in turmoil. “Perhaps this one is immune to your condition, you haven’t performed any rituals yet, right?” 

He nods, looking a little appeased, and Xingqiu thinks that he’s calmed himself down, as well. 

Yes, I’m just worrying too much. 

But Chongyun performs the ritual, and there’s no spirit to be found. 

“I must’ve done something wrong,” Chongyun mumbles, “perhaps it’s the lack of practice.” 

It can’t be, you’ve been practicing for weeks in the palace. 

He performs it over and over, and over and over again, there’s nothing to be found. 

“I’m sorry sir, but there’s no spirit.” 

The owner had seemed to have calmed from the morning, as if the lack of spirit comforted him. “Ah… I see, perhaps I was just seeing things.” 

Chongyun nods, and the man smiles apologetically, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” 

Xingqiu smiles back, it feels fake. “No problem, sir, it happens all the time. Make sure to call for a doctor.”

“Of course, of course.” 

It would’ve been fine, if that was the only occasion. A man seeing things, a daughter who had simply fallen ill. 

But as if that one occurrence has set loose a tidal wave, Liyue Harbour is flooded with similar cases, people being struck by shadows and falling ill, never waking up from their illness. 

More exorcists come in, from Chongyun’s clan, from all over Liyue, but no matter who it is, there isn’t a single spirit to be found. 

“Maybe it’s an illness,” Xingqiu hears people whisper in the streets, once bustling with life and now quiet and dead, only a handful of people roaming the streets at any given day. 

He knows, in the depths of his heart, what this is. Had heard stories of the sea witch of the abyss in his youth, of how her curses came in the form of shadowy creatures. 

Had seen those creatures for himself. 

He opens the door, feeling shaken, and Chongyun is there to greet him. 

“You look terrible, lately, are you alright?” 

Xingqiu shakes his head, and Chongyun places the bag of groceries he’d bought on a table. 

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers, pulling Xingqiu close and rubbing comforting circles on the small of his back. 

“But what if it isn’t?” 

His motions still, at that, but then he wraps his arms tighter around him, whispering into the crook of his neck. 

It’s deep, and filled with a sort of emotion that Xingqiu can’t quite discern. 

“Then we’ll run away.” 

That night, Chongyun holds him closer than usual, kisses him softer and sweeter and more. 

Xingqiu lies awake, guilt eating away at his consciousness. 

Soon, the once lively Liyue Harbour is more dead than the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean, the air solemn and foreboding as the people of Liyue grieved for their loved ones who’d fallen under the curse. 

Curse. That’s what they’d taken to calling it, and it’s as if the universe is screaming in his face that this was his fault. That his selfish wish to go on land and abandon his responsibilities has caused all of this pain and suffering.

But selfish as he is, he can’t bring himself to go and fix it. 

He feels a lump in his throat as he stares down into the sea. 

“You’re here again,” he hears Chongyun say from behind him, but he doesn’t turn to look, “does the ocean calm you? You like to look at it often.” 

Xingqiu tries to smile, but it falls flat. Chongyun is beside him now, a frown on his face. A hand comes up to cup his cheek, and he relaxes into it. 

“We can move somewhere near the ocean, if you want.” 

The words seem to release every tear he’s held in thus far. Kind, selfless Chongyun, always thinking about others before himself. Has stayed in Liyue and still goes out every day, trying to exorcise the non-existent spirits from those that had fallen under. 

Chongyun wipes them away with his thumbs, and it brings Xingqiu back to brighter days, where the only thing he had on his mind was how he’d never seen so many books in one place before. 

“It’s my fault,” he sobs, his voice cracking on the words. 

“What are you talking about?” Chongyun says, threading his finger’s through the other boy’s hair, “How can this possibly be your fault.” 

“I shouldn’t be here, I should’ve never come here,” Xingqiu says, fists trembling at his sides. 

“...Even if it means that we wouldn’t have met?” Chongyun’s voice drips with hurt, and Xingqiu clenches his jaw. 

Ah. He’s selfish. He’s so, so selfish. Chongyun deserves more than this; someone just as selfless as he was. 

“No.” 

And in all his selfishness, he stays by his side, even as more and more people fall to the curse. 

Until a shadow flickers from the corner of his eye, a laugh along with it. 

It’s sharp, high, it stings his ears. 

And it’s getting closer. 

“Xingqiu!” 

Chongyun rushes out in front, and as his hand brushes across the shadow, it seems to be absorbed into his skin, and he falls to the ground. 

Time seems to freeze around him, he doesn’t even hear his own screams. 

What have I done?!

Chongyun doesn’t fall to the curse right away— perhaps his congenital positivity really did have an effect— but he’s severely weakened. Ill. He wakes and falls back asleep sporadically, and through it all, Xingqiu takes care of him. 

He knows it’s useless, but he feeds him warm porridge, trying to aggravate the other boy’s condition in the blind hope that it would expel the curse from his body. 

Chongyun eats it without protest, maybe he’s too drained to care, to feel the effects of heat. He smiles and brings a shaking hand up to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen into Xingqiu’s face, that had dark circles etching their way into his skin. 

“Thank you,” he’d say, voice hoarse and weak, “but you should take better care of yourself,” he’d say, cheeks sunken in and eyes void of light. 

“How can I possibly do that when you’re like this?” Xingqiu would cry, and Chongyun would drift back to sleep, leaving him alone with his tears. 

The first day that Chongyun doesn’t wake up, Xingqiu makes up his mind. 

He thinks that the shadows around him giggle at him, thinks he hears her voice in her head, whispering; you selfish, selfish boy. 

Chongyun’s breathing is steady, at least. He’s alive. 

Xingqiu leans down, brushes his bangs back and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m going to fix everything,” he promises, carding his fingers through the locks of Chongyun’s hair, the colour of the sky. 

“Is it possible to touch the sky?” he’d once asked, and Chongyun had given him that strange look. 

  “Of course not, it’s much too high.” 

Chongyun stirs in his sleep, nuzzling into the palm of his hand. 

His heart hurts. 

“I love you.” 

Xingqiu doesn’t really know what he’d expected to see when he’d rushed back into the ocean, but it wasn’t this. 

The ocean had always been slow, mundane, boring. 

But it had never been so devoid of life.

There wasn’t a single mer in sight, not a single fish to be seen. 

It feels so wrong, even though he hadn’t been in the ocean in almost a year. He hadn’t really known what would happen if he jumped into the sea; if he would get his tail back or if it would have simply been a wasted effort.

Thankfully, his legs had fused together, and a rush of comfort from having his normal body back filled him. 

It was as if the ocean were calling him a fool, for daring to venture out onto land. 

This is where you belong. 

He swims through barren streets that looked as if they hadn’t been maintained in ages, the sand uneven with the motions of the waves. It was dark, the sun long since gone from its place in the sky. 

When he gets to the castle, there isn’t a single guard, not even in front of the main doors. 

Xingqiu doesn’t know why he’s even looking here, when he’s searching for the sea witch, but there was a dark aura hanging around the usual sparkling castle, and it calls for him to search. 

The sight inside is horrifying. There are guards scattered around, slump down and lifeless. 

His father is on his throne, as usual, but he’s slumped deep down, his tail that had once shone a brilliant blue and gold now dull and almost grey-looking. 

There is no response to his presence, his eyes half-closed and unfocused. 

“So you’ve finally come.” 

He whirls around, but only catches a glimpse of white hair, fluttering slowly through the water. 

“How selfish of you, only coming when the one you love is in danger.” 

“Stop what you’re doing,” he seethes, but she only laughs. 

“How arrogant, you speak as if this is not your own doing.” 

He’d known. He’d always known. 

“It took quite a bit out of me to give you your gift, you know, I’m simply collecting my payment.” 

He feels tears coming to his eyes again. He misses the warmth of Chongyun, his comforting hands on his cheeks. 

“You never said anything about payment!” Xingqiu cries, turning to face the abyss witch. 

She laughs, darting out of his sight again. A shadowy tendril comes up to his cheek, wiping at the tears that had fallen there. 

“Your sorrow is delicious, boy.” 

“Get away from me!” 

He pushes away from her, rubbing at his cheeks furiously with his hands “What do I have to do to get you to lift the curse?” 

“On just the boy?” 

 “No! On everyone!” 

“Just your sorrow, for all of eternity.”

“What does that mean?” 

“Your soul will belong to me, and I’ll feed on your sorrow for the rest of forever.” 

He clenches his hands, his nails digging into his palms. “And Chongyun will be safe?” 

She giggles. “Of course. I have no need for him, if you relinquish yourself to me.” 

He already knows his answer. Had known it the moment that twenty-four hours had passed and Chongyun still hadn’t woken from his slumber. 

But he still asks, “Can I have some more time?” 

Because he’s a selfish, selfish thing. 

“You have until the next sundown.” 

It’s dark. Oppressing. Cold. 

Lonely. 

Chongyun seems to float in this never ending abyss. He can’t see anything, but he can feel the movement of thick miasma against his skin. 

There are flashes of light, sometimes, they’re filled with smiles and eyes of gold, shining and sparkling with excitement as he bounds through shelves and shelves of books. 

He feels the pressure of soft hands on his cheek, sometimes, the ghost of a feeling, but he recognizes it all the same. 

Small, a little delicate, smooth as if they’d never held a weapon in his hands before, as if they’d never met the harshness of land. 

He smells the scent of silk flowers, of the ocean. 

Xingqiu . 

His journey through the abyss seems more tolerable that way, the thoughts of the beautiful boy flashing in and out of his mind. 

Xingqiu was pretty. Beautiful. He shone in the sun as if the rays were afraid to hurt him, softly caressing the edges of his hair, his cheeks, his hands. Outlining him in light as lashes long and dark brushed against smooth, pale cheeks. 

He was even pretty when he cried, golden eyes sparkling like the most precious of jewels. Chongyun feels guilty, thinking this even as tears roll down his face, staining its smooth surface with tracks of water. 

“I love you.” He hears, and he turns, trying to find the source of the sound. 

Again. 

“More than you’ll ever know.” 

There’s warmth against his face, like the patter of spring rain. 

“Goodbye.” 

He wants to reach out his hand. 

Where are you going? 

But he’s just feeling aimlessly through the abyss, and the scent of silk flowers and ocean fades away. 

When Chongyun opens his eyes, it's because of the sun shining through his window. 

He squints against it, his dream still fresh in his mind. 

The sudden light, though painful, is pleasant compared to that neverending abyss, where there was nothing and nothing to be seen, yet the feeling that he was being watched. 

Had someone found a solution to the curse? Perhaps it was a very talented doctor, or a prodigy exorcist who had real talent, not like him. 

“You still seek to become better, dear Chongyun, and I think that’s very impressive all in itself.” 

Right. Xingqiu, where was he? 

Had he been caring for him all this time? He’d have to apologize later, for making him worry so much. He’s sure that the other boy would simply smile, tell him it was nothing to worry about. 

Or maybe he would cry again, seeing that he’d awoken, eyes glittering with tears and cheeks flushed that pretty shade of pink. 

“Xingqiu?” His voice comes out stronger than he thought it would, and he glances to the bowl of porridge at the side of his bed. Chongyun smiles, a fuzzy memory of warmth against his tongue, brows pinched together in worry. 

Perhaps he’d gone out to buy groceries. He’d have to surprise him when he got back. 

The city is louder than usual, with people outside squealing with joy, laughter and sobs, all of happiness, filling the streets of Liyue and making their way into his house. 

The one he shared with Xingqiu. 

Surely he’d come rushing back after seeing everyone awaken? 

But the sun sets, and even as the sounds of joy outside subside, Xingqiu is nowhere to be found. Chongyun can’t help but worry. Maybe he’d gotten lost, kidnapped. 

“I shouldn’t be here, I should’ve never come here.” 

Dread sets into his stomach, and he swallows the tightness in his throat. 

Had Xingqiu left? Gone back to where he’d come from? 

He remembers his dream.

Was it not a dream? 

Panic overtakes him, and he rushes back to the bedroom. 

“Xingqiu?” 

He knows he’s not here, there isn’t any way he’s here. He’s waited the whole day and there was no sight of the other boy, no trace of gold or silk or ocean to be seen. 

The bedroom is empty, as expected, but he spots something on the end table, something he’d missed in the morning. 

A note. Right. Perhaps Xingqiu was just out, looking for a cure, unaware that everyone was awake now. 

But there’s a pit of anxiety worming its way into the bottom of his stomach, and Chongyun clutches it desperately, reading through the messy lines as fast as he could. 

My dearest Chongyun, 

By the time you read this letter, I expect that the whole of Liyue must be awake; I’m sure that it is quite lively outside. You should go and join in; surely this is something to celebrate! 

I’m sure you’re wondering where I’ve gone. 

You don’t need to worry, I’ve simply gone back home. Did you know that I’m from the ocean? I never had the chance to tell you. 

The lines are shaky here. The paper is dotted with droplets of tears. 

It was my fault, I stayed too long on land— It’s alright, though, once I go back everything will be resolved, and you can continue on with your lives as usual. 

You can’t come looking for me, alright? It’s much too dangerous. 

Chongyun’s hands are quivering, it makes the letter hard to read. He’s confused. What is he talking about? Where could he have possibly gone, where it’s too dangerous to find him? 

No matter where he’s gone, Chongyun will find him. He’ll find him and bring him back. Back home. 

There’s so much I want to say, but there’s not a lot of time left; I have to go, and I won’t be able to come back. It’s very far away, where I’m going. 

Please don’t forget to eat three meals a day! I made sure to leave some ingredients behind for you, they should still be good by the time you wake. 

If they aren’t, you can’t eat them, okay? Make sure to throw them out, you’ll get a stomachache. 

He couldn’t have gone far; he had seen them in the kitchen earlier, they still looked fresh. It couldn’t have been so long since he’d left. 

I know that it’s hard to bid goodbye, but all things will come to an end— this was how things were always meant to be. You will be able to find someone else, dear Chongyun. 

I’ve left this scale for you to remember me by. Perhaps you’ll find it unpleasant— I hope that you don’t,  it’s my favourite one. 

I love you, til the ends of eternity and back. 

Forever yours, 

Xingqiu. 

No. 

There’s a golden scale attached at the end of the letter, and Chongyun clutches it in his hand. The edges dig into his skin, but he holds it tight. 

He wasn’t going to accept this. 

The door slams open, and the few people on the street smiling recognize him, calling out to him with joy. 

They see the dark expression on his face, though. The way his lips stretch out, his jaw tight and his eyes wet, holding back the tears. 

“Have you seen Xingqiu?” he asks, desperate, and sympathy begins to dawn on their faces. 

Someone speaks up.

“I saw him on the cliff earlier this morning; it was very odd, he wasn’t wearing any clothes, it was like he was planning on going for a swim.” 

“Oh dear, did he get caught in the waves?” 

Chongyun doesn’t stay to hear the rest, already sprinting towards the cliff. He’d seen Xingqiu on it before, gazing out into the ocean, but never out at the horizon, always at the depths, as if there was something there that only he knew about. 

The wind feels cold and bitter against his skin, already wet with tears as he reaches the cliff. There’s nobody there. Of course there isn’t. 

“Xingqiu!” he calls out, clutching the letter to his chest. The scale lies close to his heart, and for once he’s the one doing the sobbing. Everything is calm, beautiful. The gold of the setting sun, the deep blue of the ocean, glittering with the last rays of the sun. 

And it’s all so terrible, as if mocking him with its beauty. Gold. Blue. Xingqiu. 

He screams until his throat is sore, until his tears run dry and he can only kneel there, gasping and choking on his breath, sobbing and wailing into the sea. 

“I love you, I love you, come back, please.” 

The wind blows past him, seeming to carry a whisper along with it. 

Goodbye. 

The scent of silk flowers and the ocean wisps by him and Chongyun gasps, tries to breathe the scent in more, but it’s already gone. 

And just like that, he knows, and he brings the letter closer and sobs once more. 

He watches as he starts to fade and bubble away. It’s surprisingly comforting. 

The light from the sun seems to be dancing around him, playing with the bits of him that float upwards, towards the surface he’ll never see again. 

He closes his eyes. 

Ah. I wish I could see the sky.