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Sometimes, Xiao reminded her of a cat.
It was in the way he always cooped himself up in his room, refusing to leave unless he was bribed with a plate of his favourite almond tofu. It was in the way he refused to look her in the eye even when she said his name, trying to engage him in conversation. It was in the way he'd often slink away from people once their backs were turned, as though it was beneath him to stand around and make idle chit-chat with others.
Lumine wanted to get to know him, but she wasn’t sure how. Verr Goldet’s advice was limited to ‘give him more almond tofu’, which she had already tried to varying degrees of success. And Smiley Yanxiao was even less helpful – the chef was more likely to yell at her about stepping inside his kitchen than to offer her any legitimate suggestions.
Perhaps it was a fool’s errand to think she could ever get close to an adeptus, but there was something about Xiao that intrigued her.
Maybe it was the loneliness she sometimes saw in his amber eyes, when she spied him standing at the balcony of Wangshu Inn, staring up at the moon, the nighttime breeze ruffling his hair. He always looked so alone, and part of her wondered whether it was due to choice or circumstance.
She could empathise with that. Those feelings of isolation. When she first woke up at Starsnatch Cliff, she felt the same way – lost and helpless, stranded without her brother. She had never imagined a life without Aether before; it felt surreal, to fathom the possibility of traversing foreign lands without him by her side.
But then she met Paimon. And that was the beginning of her transformation, the start of a journey that led to her meeting the friends she had now. In Mondstadt, in Liyue, all the people she had come across during her travels – once unfamiliar faces but many now the closest of companions. There were numerous friends she could call upon when she was exploring a new domain or fighting new enemies, and that was something she was grateful for.
It might be presumptuous to think that she could do the same for Xiao. But, at the very least, she wanted to try. She had spent so long helping people as the Honorary Knight that it was second nature by now, to butt her nose into other people’s affairs.
Besides, Zhongli seemed supportive of her plan. He was the one who first told her bits and pieces of Xiao’s past – about how he, the Guardian Yaksha, protected Liyue from the remnants of gods long gone. How he was in constant pain, despite the lack of emotion on his stoic face. How the painkillers Zhongli procured for him, strong enough to kill a mortal being, were the only things that could ease his suffering.
It made her feel strange. She couldn’t quite place the emotion – it was almost like pity, or sympathy, or perhaps something else she didn’t have a name for. But what she did know was that her heart bled for him. No one should have to walk the shadows the way he did, alone and aching. It seemed so unfair, but then Zhongli reminded her that not all contracts were fair, and sometimes, the only thing people could do was to grit their teeth and forge through the anguish, in the pursuit of some greater good.
Even if she couldn’t change Xiao’s situation, she wanted to help him. She wanted to get through to him, to make him let down the wall constantly surrounding him – though for what purpose? She wasn’t sure.
Still, she needed to try. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she heard his story and did nothing with the information.
Drawing a deep breath, Lumine knocked on the door, hoping that he was in today. She had taken Verr Goldet’s advice to heart, deciding there really wasn’t anything she could do other than bribing Xiao with his favourite dish – and besides, wasn’t there a popular saying of some sort? That the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach?
Though those words didn’t seem to hold any weight, given the way his door remained stubbornly, obstinately closed. It was a hatefully familiar sight by now. “Paimon thinks Lumine is fighting a losing battle,” Paimon said, squinting at her plate of almond tofu.
“I’m still going to try,” she said, shaking the plate a little – the smooth, silken pudding wobbled, and she wrinkled her nose, tempted to kick the door. Paimon huffed but said nothing. “Xiao?” She raised her voice, hoping he was in. “Are you there?”
She waited for a while, but there was no response, and a minute later, Lumine let out a sigh. There went attempt number twenty-three. Maybe she would go through an entire month without ever seeing his face.
Why was he so against opening the door, anyway? Not too long ago, they had worked together to defend Liyue from Osial. He even saved her from falling to her death! There had to be some element of goodwill in that, right?
Judging from this, however, Xiao didn’t seem to think the same way. Well. There wasn’t really much she could do if he refused to open the door.
At this rate, she was going to run out of almonds. Which meant blowing her grocery budget at Second Life again. It made her wonder why she was even going through all this trouble – it wasn’t like she got anything out of it.
Pouting, she placed the almond tofu on the floor. Even if he didn’t want to take it from her hands, she would rather not let it go to waste. In her attempt to mimic Wangshu Inn’s speciality, she had tasted so many plates of almond tofu that she didn’t want to take another bite of the dessert, at least not for the foreseeable future.
Before she could walk away though, the door opened, and Lumine froze, startled out of her resignation. She glanced over her shoulder, and there Xiao stood, his trademark blank stare sending a shiver down her spine. He didn’t say anything, and she found herself stumbling over her words, trying to fill the awkward silence. “Um. Ah. Hello.”
“Hello,” he answered, his voice quiet. His gaze flicked down to the almond tofu on the floor, and he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you tired of leaving this outside my door?”
She couldn’t help but bristle at that comment, though she tried not to let her irritation show on her face. It was rare – no, not rare, mythical – for Xiao to make an appearance in front of anyone besides Zhongli. “I can’t help it since you’re usually out when I visit.”
“I wasn’t out.” He didn’t add anything else, crouching to pick up the almond tofu, and she exhaled, exchanging a look with Paimon. Xiao rose, holding the dish carefully in his hands, then retreated into his room, though he left the door open.
Was that an invitation to enter? She hesitated, uncertain – it was so hard to tell what he was thinking. “Paimon thinks that if we try to barge in without his permission, he might turn violent,” her friend helpfully supplied. Lumine just narrowed her eyes – as though she hadn’t figured that out already.
Then Xiao stuck his head back out of the door. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, in as deadpan a tone as usual, though she fancied she could detect a hint of annoyance in his voice. Perking up, Lumine and Paimon exchanged yet another look before they both went inside his room, wondering what the personal quarters of an adeptus might look like.
Sure, they had visited Jueyun Karst and they did enter the abode of Cloud Retainer, but there was something strangely intimate about entering a room specifically. Especially when it came to Xiao, who was probably the most prickly person she had ever met.
Xiao’s room was spick and span; he had barely any personal belongings, his polearm being the only thing of note. The sharp, polished weapon was placed against the wall in a corner of his room. Everything was bare and spartan, almost cold. As though there wasn’t anyone staying here. Xiao placed the almond tofu on the table, then turned and gestured at the door – Lumine saw a burst of anemo energy leave his fingers, and then the door slammed itself shut.
“So? What do you want?” he asked, wariness dripping from his every word. She blinked, suddenly confronted with this question – indeed, what did she want? She had never given much thought to it, not in any concrete terms. Now that she had achieved her objective of getting him to talk to her, she found herself at a loss for words, unable to articulate the reasons that led to her coming here.
Was she simply seeking a challenge? Was befriending Xiao a good enough justification for all the effort she had put into this? At this point, she honestly couldn’t say. “I just wanted to talk to you, I suppose.”
His eyes narrowed. “And for what purpose?”
Xiao’s tone was clipped, formal. Like ice personified. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had been given the wrong vision – the Cryo Archon seemed to match his personality more than the freewheeling, carefree Barbatos did.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, deciding it was better to say the truth than to make up some grand, flowery falsehood. “I just thought it would be nice to make friends.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak, and she counted the seconds as they passed, fidgeting. The silence was awkward. While Lumine was perfectly fine with long periods of quiet, it was mildly uncomfortable to just stand here and subject herself to his scrutiny. He was staring at her like she was some kind of alien lifeform.
Though to be fair, she was an alien, in the strictest sense of the word.
“Why?” he finally asked, and she was almost certain she didn’t mishear the faint quiver in his voice, the first hint of vulnerability he had ever shown in front of her. Like the tiniest crack in the unemotional façade that he was so prone to affecting. “Why would you want to do that? You’re annoyingly persistent.”
She shrugged, looking around the room in an attempt to gather her thoughts. Paimon, who seemed just as uncomfortable as she was, quietly poofed out of the room, going back to whatever dimension she dwelled in when she wasn’t hanging around Lumine. “I guess you remind me of…me?”
It took only one look at the expression on his face to know that she had said the wrong thing. “I meant that you’re always on your own! I kind of understand how that feels.”
Xiao raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that I’m lonely? That I require the sympathy of strangers?” he asked, and even though he sounded calm she had the distinct feeling that just one wrong word would be enough to get her kicked, unceremoniously, out of his room.
“No. Not lonely,” she said. She herself wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not. “But having a friend never hurt anyone.”
He made a noise that sounded surprisingly like a snort. “You speak like someone who has never witnessed the pain of losing a friend.”
Now, that touched a nerve. “You don’t know anything about me, so please don’t make such assumptions,” she answered, trying to sound as polite as she could despite the irritation coiling in her cut. Maybe trying to reach out to him had been a mistake. Curse her bleeding heart.
But, to her surprise, her retort seemed to calm him down. The prickly energy she could sense surrounding him quietened somewhat. “What false assumptions did I make?”
She exhaled. “Do you know why I’m travelling through Teyvat in the first place?”
“…No.”
He didn’t say more, his expression as carefully blank as always, but given the way he leant ever so slightly closer, it seemed like he wanted her to continue. Like he actually cared about what she had to say.
Maybe it had just been so long since he last held a proper conversation that he didn’t mind hearing what anyone had to say. “I’m searching for my brother.”
“Your brother?” he asked, cocking his head. It made him look even more catlike than he normally did, and for an instant, she felt herself soften – Xiao might be difficult, but he did have his moments. It was sometimes easy to forget that the youthful adeptus was startlingly old, and startlingly powerful.
It was easy to forget the weight of his responsibilities.
“Yes. My twin. His name is Aether.” She hesitated, glancing at the painting that hung on the wall above his bed. It was an ink painting of a mountain landscape, one that she vaguely recognised to be Jueyun Karst, and suddenly she wondered if Xiao ever felt excluded. If he wished he could live far away from humans, among his fellow adepti.
Why was he staying in Wangshu Inn, anyway?
“What happened to him?” Xiao prompted, his voice gruff. She flinched, startled out of her thoughts – she didn’t expect him to care about hearing the rest of her story.
“When we first arrived in Teyvat, we were intercepted by a god,” she explained. “I don’t know who she was, but she took my brother. Sealed him away in a cube, then stole my powers. After that I fell unconscious, and when I woke up…”
She trailed away, hesitant to continue. Even though she had replayed those memories over and over again, trying to puzzle out clues about Aether’s whereabouts, it was still strange to hear her backstory, spoken to someone who was little more than a stranger. But he listened so attentively, his amber eyes fixed on her, and she felt a little bad if she didn’t finish what she started. “Since it was a god who took him, I thought the best way to start my search would be to speak with the Seven.”
Realisation dawned in his eyes, a moment of clarity that seemed to light up his entire face. “So this is why you came to Liyue, searching for Rex Lapis.”
She nodded, fiddling with her fingers. “And I would move on to Inazuma next, if not for the…” she gestured helplessly at nothing, “the impasse.”
“I see.” He didn’t say anything else, and once again they lapsed into silence, though it was slightly more bearable this time. She went back to staring at the painting on the wall, wondering if it had come with the room or if it belonged to Xiao.
For someone who had taken up permanent residence here, his room was frighteningly impersonal. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
His words startled her, and she turned back to face him, her lips parting in surprise. He wasn’t looking at her, his gaze fixed on the wall behind her head instead. “It appears I was too hasty in my dismissal of you. Please accept my apologies.”
“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” She was placated by his sincerity, as reluctant as it seemed. It was a miracle she could coax anything out of him at all. “But you lost someone dear to you as well, didn’t you? If you’re comfortable with telling me…”
“I’d rather not speak of it.” For the first time, she saw a smile cross his face, though it looked closer to a grimace. “The memory still stings, even now.”
“Ah. Pretend I didn’t ask, then.” She hesitated, then glanced at the almond tofu he had left on the table. “You know, all those times I left almond tofu outside your door…”
“I finished them all,” he answered her unspoken question. “They’re decent.” He paused, looking uncertain for once. “Thank you for that. I appreciate it.”
“I’m just curious. Why didn’t you ever open the door when I knocked?”
His expression grew conflicted. “Do you truly wish to know?”
She nodded. It had been plaguing her for a while, this uncertainty that gnawed on her bones – did he know it was her leaving the almond tofu? If he knew, then why did he ignore her? Did he dislike her? But if that was the case, then why would he save her? Simply because it was part of his duties as the Guardian Yaksha, the protector of Liyue?
He exhaled, resignation flitting across his face. “Because…I’m not good at speaking to people.”
“Oh.” She blinked at his words, at the unexpected confession that had slipped out of his mouth. “So you were…shy?”
“If you want to call it that.” He turned away from her so that she couldn’t see his face, his black hair swaying in a gentle breeze that she couldn’t feel. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just couldn't imagine why you would go through all this effort for no reward.”
She suddenly thought about his position. About his status as one of the adepti. About how he probably never received anything without being asked for something in return, and her chest twisted. Perhaps it was understandable why he was always so suspicious of everyone. She might be too if she was in his shoes.
“I just wanted to befriend you.” She shrugged. “And since no one really knew how to talk to you, I figured bribing you was the easiest way to start.”
He laughed, and her eyes widened – Xiao? Laughing? This was definitely a first. “You truly are a strange one, traveller.”
“Just call me Lumine,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. “That’s what everyone else calls me.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, a spoonful of almond tofu halfway up to his mouth, his gaze searching. She wondered what he was looking for. “Lumine,” he repeated, in a voice so hesitant that one would think he was learning how to speak for the first time. “I will be sure to remember that.”
She would have found that mildly offensive if she couldn’t hear the sincerity that rang in his every word – for someone like him, it must be hard to recall names. To think of individual people when the weight of an entire nation rested upon his shoulders. “Is it okay if I keep coming up here?” she asked, just to be certain.
He popped the spoon into his mouth, contemplating. Finally, he nodded. “Do what you wish. I can’t stop you, anyway.”
But there was no hint of malice in his voice, and she grinned, a strange sense of relief washing through her. All her efforts had finally paid off, though she was left with the niggling question of ‘what now’? What should she do now that she had succeeded in getting him to talk to her?
She supposed she'd just have to wait and see. “It’s nice to meet you, Xiao.”
“And you, too.” He paused and swallowed, a soft, almost gentle smile crossing his face – she couldn’t help but stare, mesmerised by how pretty he was when he wasn’t glaring at everyone, keeping them at arm’s length. “If you’re ever in any danger, or if you need my help, just call my name and I will be there.”
“That’s a heavy promise to make.”
“And one I intend to keep.” He picked up the plate, then stretched out his hand to her, offering her the spoon, still with that soft smile on his face. “Would you like a bite?”