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When one has been alive for millennia, the extraordinary soon becomes ordinary. Human ingenuity is expected, and almost mundane, rather than something that is a cause for celebration. After all; in over 6000 years, Zhongli has seen at least that same number of inventions.
He has seen the rise of canoes and then real boats, then ships that can hold hundreds. He has seen the evolution of knives into swords and has seen new ways to refine metals to make them stronger and sturdier. He has seen his people gain a basic understanding of botany and pharmaceuticals, and now they are able to create potent medicines.
It’s impressive, yes, in some far-away sense. By all means, humans are quite remarkable in their cleverness. It’s just that even them being clever is able to become so dull. That, and for every time there is an inkling of something useful, there is also something absolutely senseless. Petty disagreements. Stupidity. Illogical behaviour.
It’s fascinating.
It's a curious thing, to walk amongst mortals as he pleases and yet never truly be one of them. No mortal would hear a man dismiss his worker for the day, then sit atop a mountain and contemplate their very existence for a week, unmoving. Yet that is precisely what Zhongli finds himself doing. A week is nothing; what good is a week, in a lifetime of over 300,000 of them?
What good is a week to someone that may only see a hundredth of what Zhongli has endured thus far?
He wonders if he might be able to understand the people better if he were to live amongst them properly. A single human lifespan longer. What would be different if he only allowed himself—50, or 60 more years?
He makes his decision. One human lifespan longer, lived amongst the people, but only if the region is able to handle his absence.
Assuming they are able to—then no matter what comes after, this is it.
*
The people who pass through Liyue are often more interesting than those who are local. It isn't that Zhongli doesn't like his people; on the contrary, he gets along with a great many of them, and he so greatly values those who indulge his time and who appreciate his insight. Rather, it's that he understands the people of Liyue on a base level. When the city is one he had hand-crafted, when traditions were descended from those he had created himself, and when the market interactions are based on what he had deemed just and right; it is only natural that he feels a kinship with these people. How could he not, when he is Liyue itself?
It goes to follow that he is not so familiar with the customs and character traits of those from elsewhere. The people of Mondstadt are so very different to those of Liyue despite their geographical closeness; but he supposes that makes sense. He and Barbatos are hardly similar. Their values have differed wildly in the time they’ve known each other. That their people would generally live their lives based on the teachings of their archon makes sense.
So, the people who pass through are interesting—but it is a diplomat from Snezhnaya who is the most interesting of all.
It’s meant to be a business contact; the details are all worked out well in advance with the ‘Tsaritsa’. But Zhongli’s interest goes beyond the formal.
How can one person harbour so much passion, and fondness, and be so charming and generous—and yet be so cunning? So brutal? So quick to anger and make false assumptions?
Childe does not talk about his past in specifics past the age of twelve or so. There are great swathes of time that he glosses over; one could be forgiven for thinking he aged a great many decades during his teenage years. One could be forgiven for wondering why Childe seems to be so very, very young at his core and yet seem to carry all the burdens of a lifetime on his shoulders.
Zhongli has never met anyone quite like him in all of 6400 years, and he thinks if he were to live another 6400, or even another 10,000 that he may never do so.
And so he makes a habit of spending time with Childe. Childe, who has a far better memory than Zhongli for mortal pursuits like money. Childe, who knows everything and yet nothing at all; knows of good places to eat but not of how any of the ingredients found their way to the plate. Childe, who has danger in his eyes but something akin to love in his veins.
Zhongli has not dabbled in mortal foolishness like romance since he was significantly younger than he is now—there is no point, when he will inevitably outlive anyone he has any interest in, but for the first time in millennia, he is almost tempted.
*
The Qixing and Adepti handle the threats to Liyue with aplomb.
If there is any proof that he is no longer needed, this is it. Perhaps some people would find the idea of being surplus to requirements frustrating, or upsetting, but Zhongli feels lighter than he has in quite some time. He is not letting go to the same extent that Barbatos has allowed in Mondstadt—even as Zhongli watches petty disagreements unfold in the market, he is tempted to step in and offer his wisdom, even though he knows he needn’t—but this is a freedom, all the same. He does not understand his once-colleague fully, but he thinks he understands better than he did before.
It’s ironic, when what he had truly wanted was to understand the people. There are things he is beginning to understand; the very mortal sense of urgency that most of their lives have. When a month is perhaps a thousandth of the entire time one might spend on this earth, rather than a hundred-thousandth, even the mundane feels important. It is urgent to travel across the entire nation and to do it soon, in order to see the blossoms on the trees, for there are only a finite number of times to do such a thing. It is important to make time for old friends, for any visit could be their last, and there is much to say and much to catch up on. It is important to relentlessly pursue promotions and network, for how else is one supposed to secure themselves a legacy? These are mortals, not archons. Not everyone can hold such a prestigious title.
Perhaps most surprisingly, Zhongli finds himself wondering if it is important to have someone at his side. The mortals do it; there are many names, but he finds himself wondering around the idea of a partner. It carries much more weight than the flimsy terms to describe relationships that are so often used instead. The mortal life is much more daunting than anything he has experienced prior, and he wonders if this is what all of them feel every day of their lives. No wonder then, that they seek comfort in other people.
He thinks of Childe, and he thinks that that nature of mortal relationships is something that he would like to understand in its entirety.
But that might take just a little longer.