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It’s not that Beidou leaves immediately every time they conclude their official business with each other. She rarely ever leaves prematurely, not since the time where Ningguang had indulged in too much baijiu at Xinyue Kiosk and decided to humour Beidou when the pirate captain broke in that evening. She really should stop going to Xinyue – avoiding the extravagances of their seafood spreads with baijiu will make for a bad habit.
She remembers, distinctly, that Beidou slipped past her guards and attendants, marching right into her private wing in the Jade Chamber after her staff were dismissed for the night. Beidou had thrown herself across one of her chairs, an act that was too familiar, which should have annoyed her.
And it did. But that evening she realised that she was annoyed because Beidou was there for business that she cared little for – to lodge a complaint about a supposedly unfair deal she had gotten into on behest of Ningguang, and to angrily demand recompense from Ningguang because we did not agree to this. Her head throbbed slightly as Beidou rattled on about how her task had inevitably entangled her crew in a dispute with some angry local militia: I did not agree to kill kids, Madam Tianquan.
That all their contracts have been mostly verbal was not essential previously. Ningguang had never yielded more room that she intended to on these negotiations.
For every contract drawn, the conditions always provided for exceptions. Beidou’s brows had shot up when Ningguang growled a yes to Beidou’s new terms. Huh.
Baijiu was certainly to blame for Ningguang’s next calculation – to give in to a long-held desire, something that had simmered for months, so long that you couldn’t very well call it an impulse – where Beidou found herself (let herself, as Beidou would correct) shoved against one of the smooth stone pillars, Ningguang’s hot breath against her left ear. You talk too much.
Ningguang had delighted in the look of surprise that flashed across Beidou’s face, allowing her lips to curl at being the one to finally surprise Beidou. But Beidou rarely lets Ningguang crow in her few victories for long. Beidou didn’t so much as ask for permission to touch her, but her lips demanded an answer, you want this?
When Beidou left before she woke the next morning before she woke up, Ningguang told herself that that was most certainly for the best.
Right now, for Beidou to still be here when Ningguang rises to the call of one of the attendants? It’s a first. She feels Beidou shift by her side, covering an ear at the sound of the brass handlebars rattling against the door.
She has rarely ever seen Beidou asleep – their night trysts are mostly had in the dark, with nothing save for maybe a lone candlelight in the room. They have never discussed the exact logistics of these exchanges. At the start, she preferred it that way. As much as her occasional bedtime companion could make her feel good, an outcome she would acknowledge that Beidou never fails to deliver on, not seeing Beidou’s face as her lips burned a trail down her body makes it seem safely impersonal. And when has she started to think of these nights as theirs?
When Ningguang finds her tongue, she calls back, “I’m awake. Please have someone draw a bath for me, Baishi. I will be up shortly.”
Finally, she turns back to the matter at hand, eyeing the other woman on her bed.
“You’re still here,” Ningguang decides to point out after a few long breaths.
“So it seems.” Beidou yawns, artlessly. But it’s decidedly very her.
The Tianquan has grown unfamiliar with these little things most people do, with most of her visitors always putting on their best manners around her. Even the children she sees are always bright and alert when they see her.
She wonders if Beidou is always as slow to rise as she is now, groaning as her good arm stretches, cracking a few joints as she pulls her arm above her head. On her ship, does she leap to attention when the sun first peeks from the horizon? Do pirates even keep regular hours of sleep, or do they rise and fall to different moods of the tide?
“Your attendants did mention that you weren’t due to meet anyone this morning,” Beidou slowly drawls. “Y’know, I didn’t realise they would wake you up this early anyway.”
“Oh?” Her lips quirk upwards. “I don’t imagine they willingly gave that piece of information up. Tell me, which one of my employees did you terrorise?”
Beidou grunts out a negative, shifting so she faces Ningguang instead. “I tried another tactic this time.”
She pauses, seemingly hoping to affect some drama into her delivery. But her red eye, while perhaps still sharper than most in the morning, is still glazed with sleep. Once again, Ningguang resists the urge to peel Beidou’s eye cover back, pushing her curiosity down.
“One of your attendants was content to make a trade, if you will.”
Ningguang hums, turning over the information without changing her expression. “And pray tell, which one?”
Beidou only smiles back, cryptically. It’s an expression that Ningguang rarely sees on her – wait, what are they anyway?
“That would be telling, wouldn’t it? I can hardly divulge my sources to the Tianquan like that. They say she has eyes and ears everywhere,” she says, undoubtedly quoting some line she has heard from virtually anyone in Liyue. Her next question takes on a wry tone, “How do I benefit if I give up my cards so easily? You’ll have to work for it.”
As she utters her last sentence, Beidou waggles her eyebrows, which makes Ningguang push her away, smile vanishing. Why she keeps her around, Ningguang doesn’t quite know. They certainly aren’t friends. And though they sleep together more frequently than she wants to admit, she’s not sure if she wants to call Beidou her lover either. In Ningguang’s estimation, that term carried excess emotion, too adjacent to unquantifiable feelings.
They continue to lie there. It’s not in her nature to be unsure of what to say. She hasn’t found herself in many of these scenarios lately. She hasn’t for the last decade of her life, at the very least. She would be content to just lie there with Beidou, but each second of silence makes her throat tighten with the knowledge that this felt too comfortable.
And when Beidou pushes herself upright, wincing as she forgets herself and uses her injured arm, Ningguang settles on suggesting, “You should get your arm looked at. If you need recommendations…”
Beidou shrugs, head leaning back against the headboard, closing her eye. “Eh, I wager it’ll be okay. Not my worst injury.”
“I can only imagine.” Ningguang swallows. “I heard about your mishap a few days ago.”
Tales of Beidou’s life swirl through Liyue Harbor each time she performs some feat. Rumours of the famed pirate falling prey to a particularly vicious strike from some monster had a few particularly popular variants, some of them more ludicrous than the one before.
Unfortunately, sometimes one out of the hundreds of these stories do emerge as the truth, as Ningguang discovered last night. The bigger discovery was that it was worry that made her ask that Beidou stay after her audience with her: she was in no state to glide down from the Chamber.
“Huh. It was probably exaggerated.” Her eye, opening to look at Ningguang, shines with amusement. “Did they say that I lost my other eye trying to defeat another sea monster? Xiangling tells me that the patrons down at Wanmin seem to enjoy telling that to her, oh I dunno, every other week?”
Ningguang sighs. She’s all too familiar with that version of the story. She’s grateful that none of her informants ever corroborated that tale each time Liusu decides to regale a passing denizen with it.
Ningguang studies Beidou more closely now, propping her head up with her arm she does so. Ningguang knows better than anyone that fame distorts truths with great ease. Storytellers like Liusu are all too common in Teyvat. Beidou is not exactly what she had expected.
And up close, in the dim morning light, Ningguang can see where the sun meets Beidou’s skin on the daily, and where she is otherwise clothed. It's somewhat comical, the way Beidou's forearms are so much paler than her triceps. Beidou doesn’t protest when Ningguang’s other hand reaches to trace those lines against her pale-dark skin. While Ningguang is tall, it is to her chagrin that Beidou’s form stretches longer than herself. Beidou is not quite as wide as a cupboard though.
“The first time I met you, I was disappointed,” she starts, plainly. “Master Liusu painted you as… somewhat decidedly better endowed.”
Beidou snorts. “Let me guess, I had ten feet to my height and six well-muscled arms to fight off anyone who dared to challenge me?”
This elicits a grin from Ningguang. “Well, you’re not quite on the mark. Close enough. Needless to say, I felt a little cheated.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint, princess. Never knew you to make a shoddy deal, though.”
It’s when Beidou smiles back does Ningguang realise she’s actually smiling.
“And I don’t.” With that, Ningguang gets up. She appreciates that Beidou’s gaze doesn’t leave her as the sheets fall from her form. “So… aren’t you going to join me in the bath?”
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Later:
Baishi cannot deny that she’s somewhat devastated as the pirate steps out of the bath, her long hair wet and dripping all over the wooden floors. But Lady Ningguang more than deserves her moments of indulgence/reprieve/happiness. The others have more than convinced Baishi of that.
For now, she marks off another item on her to-do list. Beidou is nudged out of the Jade Chamber as silently as they can manage, for it wouldn’t do for anyone to catch her like this. Which is to say, Beidou saunters her way out, whistling merrily as Baixiao attempts to shush her, to little avail.
(Baishi can only wish that Beidou docks at the Harbor properly, and not all the way off at some godsforsaken coast. Some advance warning will be appreciated when they have to clear Lady Ningguang’s schedule the next time.)