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Chapter Text

Nothing had gone according to plan.

The men guarding your cell were supposed to be gone for their dinner break. They weren’t supposed to come back so soon. They weren’t supposed to come back red in the face, drunk and fumbling and loud as they tried to unlock the door to the rundown wooden hut that served as your prison and their hideout.

You knew what happened when they got drunk. You knew that they’d be in your cell, poking and prodding you — they’d never harm valuable merchandise, but they’d certainly get real close. And if they saw the gaping hole in the corner under the wall—

You had dug that hole over the past two months, first with your bare hands then with a metal spoon that they had been careless enough to let you have off a plate. You had been careful to hide it with straw and rocks until now, but with your latest efforts, it had grown too big to be hidden.

Tonight. You were going to escape tonight. Another hour or two and you would have been free. Would have felt the wind in your hair and grass under your feet for the first time since these men — no, these piles of human filth, these human traffickers — stole you away from Liyue harbor. (You’d been the perfect target, after all, a grimy street rat with no family to speak of, no one who cared enough to report you missing.)

You bit back a sob as you heard the jingle of keys from outside. The hole gaped in the corner of the stone wall, taunting you, too big to hide but too small to crawl through. When they found the hole, what would they do to you? You’d seen what they were capable of, what they had done to the other women who tried to escape.

If only you hadn’t wandered onto the harbor, late that night, trying to catch a glimpse of the floating lights, the lingering vestiges of the Lantern Rite festival. If only you had run a little faster, a little further, when the two masked men had started chasing you. If only someone had stopped to help you before they caught you in the alley. Anguish and regret welled in your throat, threatening to spill out in a scream. If /only/.

In the clenched fist of your right hand, something glowed bright and warm. You opened your fingers, and stared. In the middle of your palm was an orange gem that was certainly not there before. Etched across its beautiful, faintly glowing facets is a dark black symbol — a diamond, two lines converging in its middle. You knew the symbol of Geo like the back of your hand — how could you not? It was the symbol of prosperity in Liyue — the element of Rex Lapis, Liyue’s founding God, the most powerful Archon to emerge from the Archon War.

The gemstone in your hand — a Geo Vision? The first emotion to emerge from the whirlwind stuck in your throat was: disbelief. Visions only appeared to people who were worthy of attention from the Archons. A sliver of their divine power.

You, who could count on one hand the number of hot meals you’d had in your life, who had never so much owned a pair of shoes to cover the soles of your feet, were not one of those /worthy/ people. There was no doubt in your mind about that. It was a mistake that this Vision had appeared to you, a careless oversight on Rex Lapis’ part.

Outside, you heard the men unlock the door.

But mistake or no, Archon be damned, you would use it. /How do you use a Vision?/ You let its warmth fill you, willing desperately for the earth, stone and soil to fill the hole back in. /Please,/ you begged, sinking to your knees and closing your eyes. A sudden calm, and something washed over you, through your veins.

When you opened your eyes, the hole was gone. You could just barely see where new stone met the old, dusty wall.

Behind you, the men filed into the hut. You stuffed the Vision down your ragged shirt, praying that they were too drunk to notice the faint, warm glow pulsing under the dirty shirt. One of the men hurled a string of obscenities at you before settling back into their posts. They did not come into your cell. Another blessing.

You barely had time to feel relief, before the despair set in. All those hours of digging, of furiously scraping your fingernails clean of dirt and grime, of carefully arranging straw over the gradually growing hole — all gone within seconds.

The Vision pulsed gently against your chest, as though to remind you that none of that mattered anymore.

Nothing had gone according to plan, indeed.

You’d need to learn how to use the Vision. You would learn. And when you did, you’d make sure that these men suffered every second of anguish that they had caused you, that they had caused the other women and children who had shared this prison with you.

“I know that this wasn’t meant for me, but please forgive me for borrowing it, just for a little while.” Under your breath, you whispered an apology to Rex Lapis. You prayed that he heard you.

—

Across the harbor, at a table in Wanmin restaurant, Zhongli took a long sip of his chrysanthemum tea.

“Mr. Zhongli!” The head chef’s bright voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife. “You’ve barely touched your food! Was it not to your liking today?”

“Oh,” Zhongli breathed, looking up to smile gently at the girl. “Nothing of the sort, Xiangling. It was superb, as always.” He glanced back down at the Black Perch Stew that had long since grown cold. The fact that he’d lost his appetite was nothing short of a tragedy.

“Though I must apologize,” he continued, “I’ve just remembered something that urgently requires my attention. Could you pack this up for me, please?”

Chapter Text

You slumped into your corner, careful to keep your heavy breaths quiet. The Vision hummed silently in the crisp night air. It was cold, wherever they were keeping you — most likely deep within the mountain ranges of Liyue.

You’d heard of the horror stories: adventurers and hikers getting lost in the mountains, encountering monsters out of nightmares, emerging from the mountains months later, changed.

It was these warning tales that stayed your hand, keeping you from enacting the first risky escape plan that popped into your head. Besides the temperature and the terrain, there was also the matter of food and exhaustion. Certainly, you knew your way around the flora and fauna of Liyue — all those years scrounging for berries and sunsettia had taught you the poisonous plants from the safe ones — but how long could you subsist on on fruit alone while being pursued by the traffickers? How far could you run, with your feet weak from disuse and body sore from the cold stone floor that you’ve slept on for months?

Besides, in the precious few hours each day that the men weren’t next to your cell, playing cards and describing the ugly things they’d like to do to you, you’d made no progress learning to use the Geo Vision. The most you’d managed to do was move a pebble from one end of the cell to the other, and even that took all the breath out of your lungs.

It’s for the best, you decided, that you take it slowly. The Vision all but ensured your eventual escape. It was a promise that you would be able to tear it all to the ground — this trafficking hideout, every single man who had laid their grimy hands on you in the last two months.

You just had to be patient.

“Are you listening to me, bitch?” A sharp rap on the cell bars jolted you out of your reverie.

“My name is Hansi,” you said, quietly.

“Yeah yeah,” the man at your cell grinned a rotten, toothless grin. “Glad you’re not broken yet, ‘cause guess what, lil’ lady? You’ve just been sold!” He tossed a ball of fabric through the bars, nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just shattered your world. It hit your chest and falls to the dusty floor. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

The men stayed for a little while more to gloat over your horror, and then returned to their card game once that gets boring. The chill in your veins didn’t go away, even as you slowly reached down and picked up your “new” clothes. It was a plain white dress, a faint layer of dirt caked down the side from where it touched the floor. You shook it out and stared at it mutely.

Sold. To a rich Liyuean nobleman, no doubt, the kind that was all honor and polite smiles in public, but a monster under the table, behind closed doors. You knew the type, you’d known them in more ways than one, in hotels and inns and empty family homes after they’d tossed you a bag of Mora or two.

You couldn’t escape yet. You weren’t strong enough, good enough, not worthy. The Geo Vision pulsed warmly at your chest, and you quickly slipped the dress on to stop the orange glow from spilling out into the dark cell. You told yourself that you would survive this, would survive whatever this man could do to you — just like you’d survived everything the world has thrown at you, your whole life.

But when the traffickers opened the door, the dread and fear almost brought you to your knees. How would you hide your Vision from this man? How would you find time to practice using it, between your having to entertain him, and the inevitable—? What did he look like? Big, tall, rough—?

You choked back a sob, and grasping at your last shreds of dignity, took your first step out of the cell. You would not cry. You would never give them the pleasure of seeing you cry.

---

They blindfolded you before you exited the building. You wondered why they thought you’d ever willingly come back. You weren’t sure how long you’d walked, by the time they finally ripped the blindfold off — an hour, at least — but the exhaustion and soreness in the soles of your feet were forgotten almost immediately when you blinked against the sudden brightness and found yourself back in Liyue Harbor.

The city had not been kind to you, not once since you were abandoned in an alley at the age of four, but it would always be home. You breathed in the salty seaspray, the wind whipping through your hair, the lingering smells of chop suey and fried seafood.

You wondered if you’d ever be able to freely step foot in the harbor again.

The two men escorting you ushered you wordlessly into a winding alley you’d never been to before, then into a small metal side door of an unremarkable building. The hallway opened up into a small room — a tea room of sorts, adorned with thick tapestries full of poetry you couldn’t dream of comprehending. In the center of the room stood a large darkwood table. And across it, sitting in one of the chairs and sipping from a tea set that, you knew without a doubt, cost more than whatever he paid for you, was your new master.

You hesitated to call him a man, and not for the usual reasons. He — the tea set, the whole damn place — exuded so much class that you could barely stand to be in his presence: his long dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, its tips tapering into a dark orange; his coat, an intricately woven design of gold and black, dragons and silk. But none of that compared to his eyes — that rich amber gaze that seems to rend you through from behind heavy lids.

“Hello,” he said, finally, placing down the teacup. Even that little motion was charged with grace and dignity. “I’ve been expecting you.”

His voice knocked the wind right out of your lungs. It was deep, rich, regal. You had met your fair share of Liyue noblemen, and none had come close to grazing a fraction of this man’s imposing presence. Who was he?

“We’re very sorry for the tardiness, sir. This idiot dragged her feet the entire way,” one of your escorts wheedled. You noticed a scar on his left eyebrow, and dearly wished that you could give him another on his right one. “What are you waiting for? Apologize,” Eyebrow-Scar ordered sharply, gripping your the back of your head with his greasy fingers and forcing your gaze downward.

“I am sorry, sir,” you whispered, the hoarseness of your own voice startling you. You kept your eyes trained on the ground. Even the man’s boots were gorgeous, intricate gold patterns weaving across black leather. Just how much money did he have?

“This one ain’t had the best upbringing,” Eyebrow-Scar said, finally taking his hand off of your head. “But ‘m sure she’ll be enough for whatever sir wants to use her for.” He and the other guard burst into ugly laughter. You snuck a glance at your new master’s face, searching for any sign of anger, disgust, or disdain. His chiseled features were pulled into an amiable mask of apathy as he waited for the men to finish laughing.

“Well, I appreciate doing business with you gentlemen,” he said, after the snorts had died down into awkward silence. Was it your imagination, or was his voice a little tighter than it was a minute ago? “I trust that the payment has been received?”

It wasn’t your imagination — the air of the room had grown almost physically denser, heavier, weighing down crushingly on you.

“Yessir,” Eyebrow-Scar said, shifting uncomfortably. “Err, ‘s there else you need us for?”

“I don’t believe so.” The man nodded towards the exit. “Do shut the door on your way out.”

Your two escorts almost broke into a jog, scrambling over each other to get out of the room.

And then: it was just you and him.

Chapter Text

Please, sit,” the man offered. His voice was back to the way it was before, quiet, gentle and solemn. You obeyed, sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the wooden seats. “May I have your name?”

“Hansi, sir.” Quickly, you add, “though sir can call me whatever sir likes.”

“Hansi,” he murmured. In his lips, your name — something that’s been baggage all your life, a reminder of the woman who threw you away — sounded like divinity. “Please, call me Zhongli.”

Okay. The meeting was not going at all how you expected. But then again, it was what you figured: honorable in public, but behind closed doors—

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you nodded.

“Would you like some tea?” He gestured to the other cup in the middle of the table. It was filled with a faint, golden liquid. “Please, help yourself. It’s Pu’Er.”

You only froze for a second. Sure, you’d play along. You thanked him, reaching for the cup. It burned your fingers through the porcelain, but Archons be damned if you were going to drop and break it. You took a small sip. It scorched your parched throat all the way down.

“How is it?”

“It’s good, sir—“

“Zhongli,” he reminded you gently.

“It’s good, Mr. Zhongli.” It was not a lie — you wouldn’t be able to tell good tea from boiled grass, but the cup you just downed warmed your stomach and soothed your frayed nerves.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled, and suddenly — too late — you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have drunk something that you hadn’t watched this strange man prepare. You knew of the drugs that these men sometimes slipped into the food they gave to street rats like you, you’d seen many a woman and child stolen away because of it.

You cursed yourself — what had happened to keeping your guard up? Was a soothing voice and pretty face all it took to earn your trust these days?

You stiffened as he raised a gloved hand. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you certainly were not expecting him to launch into a monologue about the history of Pu’Er tea.

He did, anyway, losing you somewhere between “harvested from the caves of Ling’ju Pass” and “aged delicately for fifteen years”. To say that his behavior had transcended bewildering was an understatement. Was this some kind of setup? A sick joke that rich people played on their new servants and slaves?

You realized that he’d stopped talking, clearly awaiting a response.

“Wow, aged for fifteen years. That’s a uh, long time,” you offered lamely. Archon help you.

“It may seem so,” Zhongli mused, “but it’s precisely that fermentation process that gives the Pu’Er tea its signature flavor. Fifteen years is but a small price to pay for such a unique experience, don’t you think?”

Briefly, you remembered all the trinkets and wallets and jewelry you’d stolen from passersby, how desperately you’d pawned them off at the nearest willing merchant for the promise of a meal or two.

“Yes,” you agreed, even though you couldn’t begin to imagine being rich enough to wait fifteen years to sell something.

It had been a few minutes since you’d drunk the first sip of tea, and you were still fine. Besides, he was drinking from the same pot. Maybe the tea was safe, after all. You took another sip, finishing your cup. Despite yourself, you found yourself hoping that Zhongli would continue talking in that silky voice of his, even if it was just about fermented tea leaves.

“I do apologize for rambling the evening away. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your journey.” He continued, “If you’re finished with your tea, perhaps we should head home. We can talk tomorrow, once you’ve rested.”

Home. You swallowed a dry retch, the implications stuck in your throat. Of course. It served you right for forgetting what you were here for. Behind closed doors—

“Yes. We can go if that’s what pleases you, Mr. Zhongli.” Your voice broke twice in that sentence. If Zhongli noticed, he did not say anything about it.

He rose from his seat, and suddenly you realized just how tall, how solid he was. If you ran, he would catch you. If you fought back—

Sweeping by you, he opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing into the night air. “After you.”

—
You trailed a few feet behind him as you two walked through the quiet, twisting alleys of Liyue. You thought you knew the city well enough, having lived on its streets for as long as you had, but he seemed to know the back roads of the city like it were an extension of his own body.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. He left behind a faint lingering scent of flowers — like the glaze lilies you’d stolen from Yujing Terrace to pawn, but mostly, he smelled of warmth — earthy, spices, the fresh spring grass.

Seeing Zhongli in all his standing glory made you suddenly and horribly aware of how unsightly you were in comparison. You’d been cleaned up before the escort, but there were still yellowing bruises that the damp cloth couldn’t erase, chewed fingernails and frayed hair and rib bones that jut out from under pallid skin. And while the dress you were wearing was the nicest thing you’d ever owned, it was but rags in comparison to the elegant outfit Zhongli was clad in.

Your gaze stopped at his waist, and the golden gem dangling at his belt.

“Is that a Vision?” you blurted, and immediately regret it. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask about you, Mr. Zhongli.”

“Please, never apologize for speaking your mind,” Zhongli answered, without missing a stride. “And to answer your question, yes. A Geo Vision.”

The one at her chest is still warm against her skin. “That’s amazing,” you say, and you meant it. Vision users were powerful people capable of unbelievable feats — even raised on the streets, you knew that. You wondered how Zhongli got his Vision: a fight, perhaps, against the ferocious monsters that roamed the wilderness outside Liyue Harbor?

If Zhongli had a Vision, there was no longer any doubt about it: the Vision given to you was a mistake. How could you ever hope to compare to someone like him? “You must be an incredible person, if Rex Lapis himself acknowledged you.”

Zhongli did take pause at that, peering at you with a strange look in his eyes. A small smile danced across his lips. “That is one way to think of it,” he acknowledged, as he continued walking. “It has been said that Rex Lapis only grants Visions to those he deems the most worthy.”

The rest of the trek was silent, until he stopped walking so suddenly that you almost bumped into him. You looked up from the ground, and found your breath taken away by the sculpture before you. It was a statue of Rex Lapis — there were plenty around Liyue, but tonight, silver stone gleaming under a sky full of stars, he looked ethereal.

“This was cast by the first generation of Hanfeng Ironmongers, long before mankind mastered the properties of flame and the forge,” Zhongli said, citing the name of the most famous clan of blacksmiths in Liyue Harbor. “Each time I pass it, I like to take a moment to stop and admire it. It’s a beautiful statue.”

“Beautiful,” you echoed absently, “he’s beautiful.” This was the Archon who had saved your life with that Vision, whether he’d meant to or not. You offered a silent prayer — of unyielding gratitude, for forgiveness, and for mercy. When you opened your eyes, Zhongli was eyeing you with a strange look on his face.

“I would ask you what you prayed for,” he chuckles, “but some superstitious folk would say then that your prayers won’t come true. Shall we continue? We are almost home.”

—
After ten more minutes of walking, you could feel your ankles trembling under the weight of your body. You and Zhongli had left Liyue, and begun walking through the forests on the outskirts of the city. Finally, he came to a stop in front of a house tucked into the foliage of a valley. It was a sizable estate, with a walled back garden and two floors, but you were mildly surprised that he hadn’t brought you to a castle, at this point.

Zhongli unlocked the door and gestured, again, for you to go ahead. Your stomach in knots, you took your first step into your new home — and prison.

It was warm.

Embers crackled in the fireplace of the living room, casting a faint golden glow on the tasteful, lavish furniture that lined the floor. There were tapestry scrolls on either side of the fireplace here too. You don’t understand the poetry written on these ones, either.

“Welcome to my home,” Zhongli said, walking past you. He did not touch you. “We have much to discuss, but that can wait until tomorrow. You look like you’re on the brink of collapse, and we can’t have you getting sick from exhaustion.” Despite yourself, you feel a small twinge of something at that — you’d never, in your life, had someone care about your health. He probably just doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of a sick servant, you told yourself.

“Let us go to bed and have a good night’s sleep first,” Zhongli continued, and anything you’d felt quickly soured.

Bed. You swallowed the panic rising bright and hot in your lungs. You might not be as educated as he surely was, but you were not naive. You knew that sleep was not what you would be getting tonight. The plea got stuck on your tongue. What could you say, to stop this rich, powerful man from claiming what was his?

“Let me show you to your room.” He beckoned at you to follow as he strode down a long hallway. You blinked, too stunned to obey for a moment, before running after him.

“My room?” You asked.

“Yes.” He paused at the end of the hallway, opening one of the doors to reveal a cozy bedroom. Like everything else about Zhongli, it was tastefully decorated — lush, dark green curtains framing a circular window. A bed sat in the corner of the room, adorned with thick blankets and more pillows than you’d ever seen in your life.

“This room was a study until very recently, and so these drawers are still currently full of my things,” Zhongli gestured to the bedside table, “but the closets are empty and free for you to use. I was thinking that we could go shopping for some clothes for you tomorrow, if you were feeling well enough. I do apologize for not purchasing any in advance, I was not sure of your measurements—“

“Wait,” you said, afraid to let yourself hope. “Wait. We won’t be sharing a bed?”

He turned to look at you, surprise briefly flashing in his eyes, and you’d never wanted to take back a sentence so badly in your life. A palpable silence draped the room, as Zhongli studied you so intently that you thought you might fall over dead right then and there.

“Truthfully tell me,” he said, voice as low as a hum. “Is that what you would want?”

It took all of your courage to shake your head.

“Then we will have our separate rooms,” Zhongli said, with an air of decisive finality, and continued like he hadn’t just shaken your world. “I will show you around the house tomorrow. There is water in the jug by your bed. Is there anything you might need for the night?”

You shake your head mutely.

“Very well. My room is right across the hall — please do not hesitate to shout if you need anything.” Zhongli smiled, and it was so beautiful that you had to shake the shivers from your spine. “Good night, Hansi.”

There it was again, your name in his lips — divine.

Zhongli closed the door gently behind him, and you sunk to your knees, all the strength suddenly gone from your body. You’d survived the first evening with your new master. You’d survived.

Once you picked yourself back up, you peeled your Geo Vision out from under the dress, taking your first look at it under the proper light of an oil lamp. It was unframed, of course, unlike Zhongli’s, but the golden gemstone was identical in all other ways — catching the light in all its facets with a dazzling shimmer. When you put it into the bedside drawer, shoving it under the piles of scrolls and parchments, you were surprised to feel a twinge of sadness.

Stupid. How could you miss something that was not rightfully yours?

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as you clambered into the bed — your first very bed! Sinking into the sheets (they smelled heavenly), you let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of contentment.

There was a little voice in the back of your head screaming — and part of you still knew, irrefutably, that you could not trust Zhongli — but the call of sleep is much, much louder. You let your heavy lids fall shut, and quickly fell into the most comfortable slumber of your life.

Chapter Text

   In the moments after you dredged yourself back into consciousness, there was always a brief moment of panic. The part of the city that you’d grown up in was full of unpleasantries, and it wasn’t uncommon to wake up to find a knife at your throat, a hand where it did not belong. You’d once woken up face to face with a hulking, growling hound that had chased you for almost an hour through the alleyways, while its owner laughed.

   On the best of days, you woke up cold, alone and sore from sleeping on the floor. You’d always considered that a blessing.

   But today, you were comfortable. Something wasn’t right. You scrambled to your feet, realizing where you were just a little too late to stop yourself from tipping over the side of the bed and tumbling to the floor with a loud thud.  Groaning, you picked yourself up, peering around the strange place you’d just woken up in. Curtains, window, a bed—

   Zhongli.

   The memory of last night sent ice through your veins. Of course. You’d begun a new chapter of your life, a never-ending one of servitude and humiliation. And when he turned his Archon-granted strength against you (and men like him always did) what would you be able to do to stop him? You reached for the Vision at your chest; but it was not there. Ah, right. You’d hidden it deep, deep under the documents in the bedside table.

    You hadn’t really learned how to use it, but its absence was like a hole in your chest. How would you find the chance to train with it now, in between serving and entertaining Zhongli?

   Just as you thought that all the worries and fears swirling about in your head might spill through your lips in a scream, your thoughts were overtaken by the smell of something absolutely divine. You took a deep breath, a tentative step towards the door, then another, and another.

   It was the unmistakeable scent of Liyue’s harbor food, fried dough, roast meat and fresh baked bread.

   You opened the door just a crack, everything forgotten aside from the furious rumbling of your stomach and the saliva pooling under your tongue. In the living room, you saw Zhongli setting out silverware on the table. He looked up and met your curious gaze.

   “Good morning, Hansi,” he said. How was it fair that his voice almost swept you off your feet, that even after a good night’s sleep, his lips on your name still sounded like sweet, dripping honey? “How did you sleep?”

   You briefly weighed your options and decide that slowly closing the door again and going back to bed is not one of them. You opened the door a little more, slipping out into the hallway. “Very well, thank you, s— Mr. Zhongli.” For good measure, you accentuated the end of your sentence with a stiff bow.

   “It’s a little past noon,” he said, “but I did not want to wake you. I’m glad to hear that your first night here was pleasant.”

   You weren’t really listening. It was all you could do to keep yourself from drooling at the lavish array of food that was laid out on the table. A heap of youtiao, crystal shrimp wrapped in layers of translucent dough, mora meat buns stuffed with glistening, fatty meats, bowls of steaming congee and cold noodles--

   The kind of food that hawkers sold from their carts on the harbor, the kind you’d stared at for ages, mouth watering, until you got chased away. You realized that you were staring right now, and tore your gaze away from the table to meet Zhongli’s.

   What would you have to do to earn your share of scraps, in this household?

   “I’m not sure what your dietary preferences were,” Zhongli waved a gloved hand at the food laid out on the table, “so I got a little of everything that the morning hawkers of Liyue had to offer. I hope that one of these is to your liking.”

   What? You realized that there were two sets of silverware on the table, two sets of every food.

   Even for a rich nobleman, this was a cruel joke to play.

   “Do you mean to say that I’ll be eating at the same table as you, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked, as though the sheer absurdity of hearing it spoken aloud would cause the man to stop messing with you.

   Zhongli fixated you with that piercing gaze, again. It felt like a billion thoughts ran behind those eyes, as though in his head, he was calculating every movement you made and every word you said.

   (The only thought going through yours was “fuck”, repeated over and over again like a mantra.)

   Finally, Zhongli nodded slowly. “Yes, I would like you to join me during meals. It seems that we do have much to discuss about our situation, after all.”

   Any disbelief was strangled effective immediately by the realization that food food foodfood??? You would be able to eat? You were surprised at your own self control, that you did not immediately leap upon the table and start grabbing.

   “Please, sit,” Zhongli said, as always, painfully oblivious to the effect of the things he had said. He pulled out the chair in front of you, gesturing for you to sit. Mind abuzz and whispering your thanks, you sat down and he pushed your chair gently closer to the table. Zhongli made his way over to the opposite side of the table, and you realized that you were shaking only when you tried to pick up the chopsticks.

   “Can I really eat?” You said, in a small voice, terrified of the answer.

   “Of course. Please, dig in,” Zhongli smiled, and it almost looked more beautiful than the food. Almost.

---

   It was a testament to Zhongli’s composure: how calmly he ate his meal with that same amiable expression, as you tore through your side of the table like a whirlwind from Lord Barbatos himself.

   The food was hot, salty, exploding on your tongue, filling your nose and lungs with thick, savory flavor. You had never felt anything like this before — warmth in your throat and a strange fullness in your stomach. You took enormous bites, scarcely swallowing; if Zhongli changed his mind about feeding you, there wouldn’t be much he could do about the food that was already in your stomach.

   “I take it,” he said, finally, putting down his chopsticks, “that you are enjoying the food?” In your frenzy, you hadn’t seen him eat — couldn’t imagine someone as dignified as him eating, and certainly not in the wolfish manner that you had just inhaled three crystal shrimp with.

   “Yeshshuh,” you blurted through stuffed cheeks, swallowing your mouthful with much difficulty. “Yes, sir.”

   “Zhongli,” he corrected.

   “Yes, Mr. Zhongli. Thank you very much.” You briefly ripped your gaze away from the bun in your hands to glance at him. He met your gaze squarely, and you had to look away. You didn’t think that you’d ever be able to handle the weight of those amber eyes. Yet in that brief moment, you saw nothing reminiscent of disdain or disgust, anger or pity in them.

   You couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at you without those things.

   “You mentioned wanting to talk about our… arrangement, Mr. Zhongli?” You reluctantly put down your food. Best to have this conversation while he was in a good mood, you thought. Besides, your stomach was beginning to cramp just a little, and the last thing you wanted was for all this food to come out of you the wrong way.

   “Yes,” Zhongli said. “I’ll deign to bore you with the details. I have been living alone for a long time, but as of fairly recently, I’ve had to undergo some… physical changes, that have in turn made my lifestyle quite troublesome.”

   This wasn’t what you were expecting, but what else was new? What did he mean? Had he gotten into an accident, gotten hurt somehow? He certainly seemed physically fine — much more than fine.

   “I’ve been looking for someone to help me around the house, especially since work has kept me rather... busy,” he sighed, and this was the closest you’d seen him to frustration. What kind of job did he possibly have that could cause such distress to someone like him? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to speak without being spoken to.

   So instead, you nodded intently to show that you were still listening. You didn’t have the slightest clue how to begin doing housework — you’d scarcely ever even been in a house before today — but you certainly weren’t about to tell him that. You had always been a quick learner, and so you would learn; you would survive, just like you always had.

   “However, I must say that you’ve been brought to me in a state that I was not expecting.” His brow had furrowed, his voice growing a little tight. “You were on the brink of collapse last night, and now, I can see why. When was the last time you ate?”

   Feeling the warmth of shame creep onto your cheeks — you’d been hoping that he, by chance, hadn’t noticed your mealtime conduct. You scoured your brain for an answer. Something about his gaze made you want to be honest — dredged the truth from your throat.

   “Th-three days ago. I think.”

   You swore that his eyes visibly flashed. There were only the slightest vestiges of anger on his face, but just like before, the air seemed to fester. This was the most emotion you’d seen from him since the night that he’d sent your escorts away. Fear scorched your veins at the sight of a nobleman’s displeasure.

   “I’m very sorry,” you whispered.

   “No, no. It is not you who should be sorry.” Zhongli shook his head, closing his eyes briefly in thought. When he opened them again, there was no sign of that anger, his features once again unreadable. “What I mean to say is, until you have gained some of your health back, your only responsibility in my household is to recover. Is that agreeable, Hansi?”

   The only thing this arrangement bordered on was perplexing. You bit your tongue to keep from saying as much. You didn’t understand the game he was playing, but you certainly didn’t believe for a moment that he had paid those traffickers what must have been more Mora than you’d seen in your life, just to keep you around like a trophy.

   He was hiding something, wanted something from you; and you didn’t want the day to come when he finally revealed it. You had a pretty good guess that it wouldn’t end well for you.

   “Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you said instead. What else was there to say?

Chapter Text

  “Admittedly,” Zhongli sighed, “I may have gone a little overboard with the food.”

   You both peered at the carnage leftover from your feast, the table strewn with at least half of the meal left.

   “Are you full?” Zhongli inquired. He wasn’t smiling, but there was unmistakeable amusement in his voice. You nodded — a few minutes ago, you’d felt like you could have eaten everything on the table, but the physical limits of your stomach betrayed you. “Very well. Let’s clean up, then I will show you around the house. How does that sound?”

   It still took you by surprise, each time he asked you for your opinion. “It sounds good, Mr. Zhongli.”

   The first time you touched him was as he handed you one of the plates, as you thumbed over the intricate blue-white markings and felt your fingers brush.  You didn’t know it then, but it would not be the last.

   He was wearing his gloves, and so it was really leather that you’d touched, but it was electrifying all the same. You winced, searching his features for any displeasure. It was not your place to so much as gaze upon a noble of  half his status without permission, let alone touch — you’d been taught that lesson, quickly and very early on.

   “Please take this to the kitchen,” he requested, as though nothing had happened. You obeyed with slow, deliberate steps, squashing even any thoughts of dropping the fine china. Gingerly — how in Celestia was even the inside of his fridge elegant? — you set it down, closed the door and almost jumped out of your skin. He was standing right behind you, arms crossed as he studied you, features unreadable.

   “Tell me a little about yourself, Hansi.”

   Small talk? Or a test? Surely, certainly, he wasn’t genuinely curious? You felt naked under his probing gaze, still clad in that plain white dress. Had it really only been a day since you’d met Zhongli? Every second with him seemed to stretch over the length of a millennia. Instinctively, your hands wandered to your chest, feeling for your Vision. Wasn’t there. Wouldn’t help you even if it was.

   I grew up in a shithole with a dozen other people. I stole, robbed, dredged myself through life, you imagined yourself saying to him, just to get sold to a nobleman who thinks I’m too stupid to understand his intentions. 

   By the way, three nights ago, Rex Lapis smoked up something real good and gave me a Geo Vision I don’t know how to use.

   “There is nothing to know about me,” you said, instead, “save that I am bound to you in loyal servitude, and that I will do as you please, Mr. Zhongli.“

   “Hm.” Zhongli hummed, a low echo. His golden gaze rend you through. Then, rather abruptly, he said, “Let’s begin the house tour, shall we?”

   Somehow, his curtness stung. Had you said something wrong? What you’d said — that was the textbook response you were meant to give, no? Regardless, you nodded your obedience, swallowing the fear you felt, as always, at his rare instances of displeasure.

   You almost expected there to be a dungeon of some sort hidden behind one of the doors, some skulls, maybe a poor chained up Hilichurl or two.

   What you didn’t expect was so many rocks. 

   And paintings. And scrolls, and trinkets, and jewelry, arranged carefully upon display stands in each room. You remembered how cluttered the drawers were that you hid your Vision in. In the daylight, now that your mind wasn’t clouded with as much fear and fatigue, you were realizing just how much stuff Zhongli owned.

    (Vaguely, it brought to mind images of dragons — the billowing, fire-breathing, treasure-hoarding creatures you’d read about in one of the many storybooks you’d stolen. You shook that image out of your head. Zhongli was plenty intimidating, even without a set of horns and fangs.)

   “—and this is the bathroom,” Zhongli said, pushing open the door. The bathroom, on its own, was bigger than the shack you’d shared with four other families growing up. In the middle of the room, the dark marble floor gave way to a large, circular bathtub — it looked a little like a pool. “You are free to use it, and anything in it, whenever you’d like.”

   The idea of a hot bath was heaven, but you were a hundred percent certain that your current state — dirt-caked fingernails and unkempt hair and all — was all that was keeping you safe. If you got nice and clean, who was to say what he would decide to do to you?

   No, you would avoid taking a bath as long as you could.

   Zhongli closed the door, and hesitated. “Hmm. There is less than I thought to show you,” he admitted. “These other rooms are simply full of items I’ve collected over the years, and I’m sure they would bore you.“

   “It would be my pleasure to hear more about them,” you said, quickly. You wanted to keep him talking; as long as he was talking, he was doing nothing else. Besides, you found yourself growing more and more intrigued about Zhongli — only so that you could read him better, you promised yourself.

   “Well, then far be it from me to deny you your pleasure,” he said. “What would you like to know more about?”

   You glanced around, gaze landing on a small, glass standing display case. Two gemstones sat side by side in it, both a rich, translucent gold — like his eyes, you thought. “What are those?”

   “Cor Lapis,” he said, and you heard a hint of something in his voice. Pride? “They were a gift, from someone close to me.”

   “Are they worth a lot? They’re so pretty.” You bit your lip. They were probably worth more than the average Liyue merchant would ever earn. Pretty? Really?

   “In terms of Mora, yes, they are worth no small amount,” Zhongli replied. “However, their value far surpasses material currency, for these are prime Cor Lapis samples from Mount Hulao.”

   “Hulao... in Jueyun Karst?” You’d heard the rumors that floated between drunk fishermen and merchants, of the dangers of the mountain, of those who entered and came back changed. You had never put much stock in them — drunk men would say just about anything.

   “Yes. And as I’m sure you know, Jueyun Karst is a dangerous place to venture into, without the proper precautions.”

   “Dangerous… even for you?” You glanced at the Vision hanging off his waist. You couldn’t imagine a situation where Zhongli would ever be forced to break that collected facade of his.

   “For any human.”

   You found yourself enjoying the light conversation — you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken to another person like this. “Who gave you these?” You tried to smile, and it came easier than you expected. “They must have been really nice, to give away something so expensive.”

   Immediately, you regret opening your mouth. Zhongli’s eyes darkened, and his face fell visibly.

   “Yes. She… was certainly very kind,” he said, quietly. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Couldn’t.

   Was? You wanted to kick yourself. Of course you’d manage to bring up his dead friend in your first real conversation with him. The next seconds of silence were almost unbearable. Finally, you spoke up with the first thing that popped into your head. “So, you like rocks?”

   By the Archon, weren’t you on a roll today.

   You were pleasantly baffled to hear him chuckle, a deep, throaty rumble from the depths of his chest. “Yes, one could say that I am fond of them.” He said, amidst soft laughter. “And you?”

   “I don’t know much about them,” you admitted, “but the ones you have are beautiful, Mr. Zhongli.” So was his laugh.

   “Is that so?” He asked, the previous conversation seemingly forgotten, as he strode over to a case across the room, “perhaps you will find these to your fancy as well — these pieces of Noctilucuous Jade were mined from the deepest mines of the Mingyun...“

   By the time Zhongli had finished regaling you about his rock collection, the sky outside had become a smear of pink and orange, the sun drifting barely over the horizon. You hadn’t even noticed the time — Zhongli simply had the kind of voice that demanded wholehearted attention.

   “I seem to have gotten carried away again,” Zhongli smiled. Was it just you, or were his smiles coming more frequently? “Thank you for being such a good listener, Hansi.”

   You nodded in response, not quite sure what to say to that. The praise had a strange, warm feeling spreading through your chest.

   “All that’s left of the house is the library upstairs,” he paused, the tacit question clear on his lips.

   You froze. Ever since you started stealing to survive, you’d made a point to sell everything that couldn’t be eaten. Jewelry, hairpins, no matter how pretty, no matter how much your heart ached to put them on, went straight to the pawn store. But you could never sell books. You couldn’t bear to give up the worlds within them, the promises that one day you would be able to live as freely as the heroes of those stories.

   So you stole. First from Wanwen bookstore, then when the owner learned to watch for your grubby hands, from bags and pockets and homes. You devoured them like hot meals, kept them under the floorboards of your corner, read them out loud to the kids who lived with you, read them till the dirt from your fingers had smeared the words to unrecognition.

   You wanted to see Zhongli’s library, so badly that it hurt.

   But to tell him this would be to admit to him that you’d stolen those books, that you taught yourself a skill that someone of your social class didn’t deserve to learn. Something you weren’t worthy of.

   “I can’t read anyway,” you lied.

   “I see,” Zhongli said. “Then, shall we go and get some dinner? Are you feeling well enough to make a trip to Liyue Harbor? I know the most splendid restaurant.”

   You thought that things were going relatively well, that you were doing a fine job of squashing the unease and distrust of Zhongli that still gnawed at the corners of your mind. You were giddily excited, even, to be going to a restaurant for the first time.

   So, as you two arrived at the outskirts of Liyue, close enough to hear the bustle of nightlife, you certainly weren’t expecting the sudden wave of emotions that knocked you clean off your feet.

   It had started small — the unrelenting reminder of how out of place you would look at the restaurant. How out of place you would look in public, next to Zhongli in all his regality. Then: how out of place you truly were — how absurd of you to have started warming up to Zhongli when you knew, with every fiber of your being, what all men like him wanted; when you knew that one day he would grow impatient of waiting for you to offer it.

   If you took his dinner, his food, his kindness, what would you begin to owe him?

    Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The bile that rose through your throat was hot and bitter, and you doubled over and retched noisily into the nearest bush. Vaguely, you could hear Zhongli’s exclamation and his footsteps approaching, but you couldn’t stop until your stomach was empty once again.

   You flinched violently at his light touch on your shoulder. “Hansi,” he said, and you were baffled at how genuine his concern sounded, “what happened? What’s wrong?”

   “I don’t know,” you whispered, and it was true. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

   “Please don’t apologize. Can you stand?” Zhongli asked, voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you home.”

   You nodded. “I’m sorry I ruined dinner.”

   “Nonsense, your health is infinitely more important.” He said. “Do you think that you can walk?”

   Once again, you nodded. You let him lead you home.

   When you reached the front door of the house, Zhongli’s hand on your shoulder firm and gentle, something had begun — deep in your heart — to fester. The fear, the confusion, the things that had fallen into place but didn’t quite fit together — it had all been boiling too long, too hot. 

   “Mr. Zhongli.” You said, as you stepped through the door, once again greeted by a warm gust of air. 

   “Yes, Hansi?” He asked, close behind. His hand on your shoulder was suddenly heavy, and hot. You shrugged it off, whipping around to stare him in the eyes.

   “Please, just— do whatever you’re planning to do to me.” You said, knowing that if you lost your momentum now you would never get it back.

   “I beg your pardon?”

   “I’m not a child. We both know what I'm here for. When I lived on the streets, two pieces Mora would have earned any nobleman a night -- let alone... however much you’ve spent.” You were vaguely aware of how many lines you were crossing with each word, but there was no stopping the words flowing from your lips now. You could feel your heart thrashing against your chest, anger warming your bones. 

   “We both know that I have nowhere to run, no way to defend myself, so just DO it already. Be cruel, hit me, whatever, do your thing so that I can stop holding my Archon-damned breath and waiting for the inevitable. What exactly are your intentions with me, sir?”

   You paused to catch your breath, and the horror set in suddenly. Your temper had always been the bane of your well-being — you just had to let it get the best of you, every time, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you have just bided your time and waited for his patience to run out later rather than sooner?

   Zhongli stayed silent, face pulled into a frown as though he was pondering over your words. Time seemed to slow into a viscous fluid, drowning you in its wake. You glanced down the hallway at your room.

   If he raised his hand against you, would you be able to make it to your room? Would you be able to grab your Geo Vision before he caught you, and would you even be able to use it against him, against the years of experience he’s had with his? You knew the answer to all of those questions: a resounding no.

   Would he let you live if you apologized? You opened your mouth to beg.

   “My intentions with you...” he said, brow pulled down over heavy lids. “Hm. It seems that I must apologize.”

   You let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. For the umpteenth time since your meeting with Zhongli, you wondered: What?

   “I have been trying to let you acclimate to your new life at your own pace, whilst moving on from your old.” Zhongli’s pursed lips were the only sign of discomfort in his composed features. “I did not know that such concerns were going through your head, though I should have seen that your seeming lack of fear was but a facade from your incredibly strong character.”

   In the corner of your eye, you saw your hands trembling. You tried to get them to stop. They would not.

   Zhongli swept on. “The circumstances of our meeting are... unfortunate. In time, you will understand my intentions in orchestrating our meeting, but for now -- you have been put in a very uncomfortable situation. I am remiss for not having acknowledged this much earlier.”

   What?

   Zhongli cleared his throat. “Hansi, please listen to me. While you are under my roof, I will never lift a finger to cause you any harm, physically or otherwise. And for as long as you are a part of my household, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are never again touched by hunger, frost, hardship. That you will never be subject to the kind of fear that’s making you tremble,” he reached out slowly and took your hand, “like this.” 

   He had done all the speaking, but it was you who had lost the breath from your lungs. Each of his words was a low rumble, earthquakes in their own right. You didn’t know if you believed him, but you so badly, badly wanted to, with every inch of your shaking body.

   “I do not expect you to believe me, right now,” he said, as though reading your mind. He let go of your hand, and it fell back to your side, still shaking. “However, you will soon come to learn that I never break my word.”

   You were beginning to see why Rex Lapis had chosen to grace this man with a Vision. He commanded — no, demanded — your attention, your respect, your trust, your entire being. There was more to him than the rich, lonely nobleman he seemed to be; in that moment, you had never been more sure of it.

   “Is there anything else you would like to ask me, Hansi?” Zhongli asked.

   You shook your head, mutely. There were a lot of things you wanted to say to that, but the swollen words stuck in your throat. “Thank you, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, and hoped he heard everything behind it. 

  Tomorrow morning, you supposed, it’d be alright if you had that bath. 

Chapter Text

    When you woke up the next morning, the sky was still dark through the curtains. You’d slept well again, although it was soured once more by the rising panic in your throat as you woke up. Reluctantly clambering from under the warm covers, you tiptoed to the door, cracking it open a little and peering outside. 

Chapter Text

The next few days passed uneventfully. 

You made it a point to meticulously study Zhongli’s every movement, every action, each waking second he was in your sight. Each morning at five, before the sun broke over the mountain peaks, Zhongli would leave the house for about two hours, coming back with breakfast for you both. 

As for work — you weren’t sure what his work hours were, but they certainly didn’t seem regular. Occasionally, he would disappear for a few hours on end, and sometimes you swore you heard the floorboards creak late in the night. But other days, he would remain at home all day, drinking his tea and reading various books in the living room you tried to avoid.

A few times, he had offered to bring you into the city to ease your boredom, but you had feigned frailty (though you certainly didn’t feel strong, either) and remained in your room. He seemed content to let you adjust to your new life at your own pace, just as he had promised two nights ago; rarely initiating any interaction with you except to greet you, and to ask about your well-being.

This was, at first, a blessing. You slept in the day, woke at midnight and sat under your covers for hours, examining your Vision in the glow of the oil light. Chasing that feeling that you had felt in your prison that night: the first and last time you had successfully used it. But try as you might, you couldn’t once again find that calm rush that had rushed through your veins and made you feel solid, stable, strong . In fact, with your feet planted on the smooth wooden floor instead of earthy soil, you had never felt further from the element of Geo. 

Eventually, your repeated failures began to rouse other thoughts. Were you really so disappointed that every time you threw out your hands, no rocks, no pebbles, not even a speck of dust gathered to bend at your will? Surely this is what you expected — or had you become so blinded by naivety that you’d begun to believe that your possession of a Vision was anything more than a fluke?

Idiot , you thought to yourself, snapping the drawer shut over your Vision in frustration. Your determination had slowly been trickling down the drain, ambitions seeming further and further away with each day you failed to master your Vision. Perhaps a break would do you some good after all. 

You wondered idly if Zhongli had already departed for his morning walk. The sky was still immensely dark outside, but without a clock in your room, you could not tell the time. Finally, you gathered yourself and opened the door, unsure whether or not you were hoping for Zhongli to be on the other side. 

And so he was, lounging on the sofa in a manner that somehow exuded both tranquility and power. He was holding something large and curved in his hand, which he looked up from at the creak of the door. “Good morning,” he said, and really, it wasn’t fair how his voice still surprised you with its timber. “How are you feeling today?”

“Yes,” you answered without a thought, and felt your cheeks warming. “I mean, I am well, Mr. Zhongli.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” He beckoned for you to come closer, and you debated making an excuse and slipping back into bed— except you found your legs moving on their own, carrying you into the living room.

One conversation couldn’t hurt , you thought. Just to understand him a little better .

As you got closer, you got a better glimpse of the strange thing in his hand. It was milky white, tapering off into a dangerously sharp point. Under the faint light, it glinted wickedly. A bone? A weapon?

“What is that, Mr. Zhongli?” you asked in awe and curiosity.

“Ah,” he glanced down at it, as though suddenly remembering he was still holding it. “I found this while cleaning out some old items of mine, and I’m trying to find a place for it. It’s a dragon’s tooth. Rumor has it that it may be from Rex Lapis, himself.”

You inhaled. It was about the size of your hand. How massive Rex Lapis had to surely be, you wondered, trying to imagine a being large enough to fit rows of these into his jaws. 

You recalled climbing the hedges of Yujing Terrace in your youth to get a good look at your city’s Archon — it had been too far away to see much, but the awe you had felt at seeing the writhing beast, his scales glimmering iridescent gold in the sun, would stay with you forever.

“How did you get this?” You whispered.

“An old friend,” he smiled that same small, sad smile that you had begun to hate to see. “She thought that it would be funny to give this to me as a gift, considering that I— that I was a devout follower of Rex Lapis then.” 

You failed to see how that was funny — it seemed incredibly sweet — but other thoughts came through your mouth before you could stop them. “The same friend who gave you the pure Cor Lapis?” 

Yes, the same one who is almost certainly dead and whom you couldn’t seem to stop bringing up to his face?

“The very same,” Zhongli nodded gently. “I would prefer not to display this in the open, yet it would be a shame to hide such a treasure away.” His voice had taken on a whole new dimension, soft and solemn and quiet. You couldn’t bear it, not when nothing else seemed to be able to shake this man. 

“If Mr. Zhongli is looking for a place for it,” you had begun to speak before you even realized what you were saying, “there’s an empty spot on the nightstand by my bed. It wouldn’t be hidden away then.” He glanced at you, and you backtracked quickly. “Of course, such a treasure would fair much better by Mr. Zhongli’s side, not in the room of a lowly—“

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Zhongli said, extending the hand holding the tooth towards you. You took it gingerly, its smooth coolness on your fingers electrifying. Zhongli had said it was just a rumor, but you knew without a doubt that you were holding a piece of Rex Lapis. It was much, much heavier than you had expected, you thought, running a finger over its glossy surface and noting each ridge and scratch. How in the world did Rex Lapis even move, let alone fight in the Archon War — let alone win — with so much weight holding him down? 

“Well then,” Zhongli said, “I must be leaving for my morning walk. Are you sure you’ll be alright at home, alone?” 

The ‘yes, Mr. Zhongli’ was resting on the tip of your tongue, but something else emerged from your lips instead. “Where do you go on your morning walks, Mr. Zhongli?” 

Just to understand him a little better , you assured yourself. 

He raised a brow at the question — this was the first time you had initiated conversation, after all. “I go to Yujing Terrace. Do you know where that is?” 

You nodded, and couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose a little at the name of the most embellished areas of Liyue. Where the Qixing worked, where the most affluent and powerful members of Liyue society gathered. You were about to excuse yourself and return to your room, when Zhongli inclined his head just a little to regard you silently. “Would you like to join me on my walk, this morning?” 

You didn’t think that it was a word you would ever use to describe Zhongli, but he sounded small. Lonely, even. You shook that thought out of your head (a nobleman like him surely had no lack of acquaintances and bed-warmers), yet still, you found yourself saying: “Yes,” without a second thought.

Just to understand him a little better.

—-

The first of Liyue’s laws was a mandate from Rex Lapis himself:

“ Nothing can be accomplished without rules or standards.
No matter if it is mortals or adepti, everyone has their place.”

You were very familiar with your place. You had been made familiar, ever since the first time you’d almost wandered into Yujing Terrace chasing a Geo crystalfly. You would never forget how the Millelith looked at you as they waved their spears in your face, close enough to touch. Would never forget the words they said to you, and even though you could not yet fully understand what they all meant, the way they said it had made you cry. 

And so, it was with no small satisfaction that you marched closely behind Zhongli as he strode through the gates as though he owned the place. The Millelith soldiers at the gate saluted Zhongli as he passed, no doubt recognizing him as a member of high society. You kept your head down and tried to keep up with Zhongli and those long, long legs. 

You walked with Zhongli past the gates, stopping briefly at the koi ponds under the foot of Mt. Tianheng. A glaze lily was blooming on one of the mossy rocks, its soft, gentle blue almost glowing under the still-dark sky. You knew what the glaze lily was (of course you did, they sold for more than any other herb or flower, and they were easy to steal if you climbed into Yujing from the mountain side), but you turned to Zhongli with faux curiosity. “Mr. Zhongli, can you tell me more about this flower?” 

Not to hear his voice , you told yourself, but to understand him better. 

While Zhongli was ordinarily happy to oblige in explanations of any sort, today, he hesitated. 

“This is a glaze lily,” he said, slowly, almost mesmerized. “It’s rather dear to me. One of my good friends loved them. Almost always wore one in her hair.” 

You knew without a doubt that it was the same friend, the one you couldn’t seem to stop bringing up. You were about to change the subject when Zhongli seemed to shake himself out of that haze. 

“My apologies, it seems that our talk this morning has brought back some memories,” Zhongli reached for the lily, brushing its petals gingerly with a gloved hand. “These flowers only bloom during the night, and wilt away as soon as dawn breaks, only to begin the cycle tirelessly again at dusk. A rather fitting metaphor for the people of Liyue, isn’t it?” 

You gently touched the necklace that you hadn’t taken off since Zhongli bought it for you. His harsh correction of the shopkeeper’s mistake suddenly made a little more sense. If the flower was so special to you, why would he defile it by buying you a necklace in its image? Surely you were beneath such a momentous symbol.

“Today, the glaze lily is very rarely found in the wild. Only the careful, hardworking botanists of Qingce Village and Liyue Harbor have been able to keep these strains of flowers alive.” Zhongli continued, “but did you know that during the Archon War, glaze lilies were plentiful all across the mountain ranges of Liyue? Especially in Dihua Marsh — you could hardly take a step without running into a patch of lilies.” 

You shook your head. “Really?” You wondered, ashamed that your first thought was of how many flowers you’d have been able to sell then — enough for a warm meal every day, perhaps.

“Indeed. Can you imagine, Hansi, rolling fields of these blossoms, as far as the eye can see, each swaying to the wind and glistening under the moon’s full glow?”

Suddenly, you didn’t feel wistful anymore. You couldn’t understand it, but you felt a little like crying.

“It must have been beautiful,” you said. “What happened?”

Zhongli paused like he was choosing his next words carefully. “Geological disasters, although unnatural in nature.” He sighed deeply. “Surviving records of this matter are few and far between. But many scholars agree that during the Archon War, Morax fought and killed a God by what is known today as Guili Plains. The resulting shockwave destroyed... not only the mortal civilization there, but vast areas of glaze lilies. The ecosystem never recovered.”

As selfish as it was, you felt a pang of relief that, despite everything, you hadn’t been alive during the Archon War. It was terrifying, to begin to imagine the strife and chaos of Gods tearing each other apart. You’d loved to read about their battles, but it filled you with a strange sadness (though mostly fear) each time. “What kind of a god could manage to do so much damage, even when faced with the might of Rex Lapis?”

Zhongli’s face stayed composed and unreadable, but the air around you seemed to chill tangibly. Was it your imagination, or did the stone bridge you were standing on just shake?

 Finally, he spoke. “It was not their power that destroyed Guili, but their death. The aftermath of a God’s death, no matter how... small the God, can be devastating to mortals.”

He stopped abruptly. You felt like you had to change the subject, felt like your life depended on it. “Wow,” you joked weakly, “Then I hope that Rex Lapis never even catches a cold.” 

Zhongli’s eyes widened, and you thought that in them you saw realization. 

“Let’s not dwell too long on such inauspicious matters,” he shook his head. “I do apologize for bringing up such a morbid topic. Look, a golden Koi. The merchants of Liyue widely regard such a sighting as an omen of fortune…”

Behind you, the morning sun spilled over the horizon, staining the harbor pink and gold. Without either of you noticing, the glaze lily’s petals slowly closed into themselves. 

—-

On the way home, you almost killed an elderly man.

You were walking past the statue of Rex Lapis once again, the one that you had stopped at on your first night with Zhongli. In the morning sun, the statue had lost its hard shadows and taken on a softer light. You couldn’t help but stare— and that was precisely how you walked right into the little old man praying in front of it.

Faster than you thought humanly possible, Zhongli caught your shoulder, and with the other hand, the man’s. The basket that the man was holding clattered to the ground, some sunsettia and a bottle of wine rolling out of it — thankfully unbroken. 

When you were both standing firmly on your feet again, you bowed deeply, fear and shame burning on your cheeks. “By the Archons, I’m so sorry,” you whispered over and over as you picked up the fruit he had dropped.  “I’m so sorry.”

To your immense relief, the old man laughed heartily. “It’s quite alright. You young folk, always with your head in the clouds!” He exclaimed as he took the basket back from your trembling hands, dusting himself off. “And you, young man, what reflexes you have. It’s a good thing she has you to keep her on her feet!”

“I’m glad you’re unhurt,” Zhongli smiled as he offered the bottle of wine back to the man. “Osmanthus wine, and aged well, too. You have good taste, sir.” 

“Oh, this isn’t for me,” he said, “I was leaving it at the statue. Call me a superstitious old man, but legend has it that this is Rex Lapis’ favorite wine.” He shook his head. “I was going to offer it to him at the Rite of Descension, but— it’s such a pity, what happened.”

You perked up at that. The Rite of Descension? What had happened at this year’s Rite? You were once again reminded of your climbing endeavors to see Rex Lapis speak with the common folk — to catch a glimpse of divinity. 

“Certainly,” Zhongli agreed, “although Liyue Harbor seems to have bounced back from the catastrophe quite quickly.”

“All thanks to the foundations that our Archon laid for Liyue.” The old man shook his head. “I may be but a poor fisherman, but even I know to thank Rex Lapis. 

“Such is the way of life. Even bedrock turns to dust, eventually. What Rex Lapis and the Adepti have done will help the harbor— help each of us flourish for many a year to come,” Zhongli said, “whether we’re the humblest of fishermen, or the highest member of the Qixing.”

There was a short pause, the air charged with a tension you were sure you weren’t imagining.

“Very wise words, from one so young,” the old man chuckled. “Aah, you know what, Rex Lapis is gone anyway.” Gone? “No use making offers to a bygone God; it’s time I accepted the flow of change in Liyue. Will you accept this bottle of wine instead, young man?”

Zhongli’s smile widened a little. You hadn’t marked him down as the drinking type. “Certainly,” Zhongli said, lowering the bottle to his side. “Thank you very much.” 

Well, I really must be going.” He peered at you, as you desperately tried to hide behind Zhongli. “Watch your step now, little lady! May the two of you be blessed with a happy life together,” he said as he left.

Zhongli raised a brow at that, but despite the warm flush spreading across your cheeks, you had more pressing matters to ask about. “Mr. Zhongli, what happened at this year’s Rite of Descension?” 

“Why, of course,” Zhongli replied, “Rex Lapis died.”

“ What ?” 

---

You listened in horror as Zhongli recounted the incidents that had occurred in Liyue Harbor while you had been held in captivity.

“But he can’t have died, he—'' You trailed off, realizing that the Geo Vision, the only evidence of his existence, would incriminate you in every single one of the lies you’d woven. Briefly, you felt a pang of guilt at what you were still hiding from Zhongli, when he had been nothing but kind to you. You swallowed that guilt quickly. “—he can’t have died. This is Rex Lapis we’re talking about.” 

“Rex Lapis was a lot of things,” Zhongli acknowledged, “but neither the Adepti nor the Archons are unkillable. The carnage of the Archon War showed us that.” 

“What about Geo Visions? Will no one ever get a Vision again?”

“How the Archons grant Visions is a mystery that has eluded even the most erudite researchers,” Zhongli responded, “I’m afraid that I cannot shed any light on that topic.”

“But the other night, at the statue, you let me pray to him, and—“ You peered at him. His expression was strange, pulled into a mild frown that you’d never seen before. “You know something else that you’re not saying, Mr. Zhongli, don’t you?” You realized how disrespectful that sounded as it came out of your mouth. “Sorry—“

“No… You are correct,” Zhongli admitted. “The Qixing, who conducted the investigation into Rex Lapis’ death, concluded that there was a likelihood that he was not truly dead. Or rather, I inferred as much during their public notice to the city at the Rite of Parting.” 

He paused briefly, studying your expression intently. You tried to keep your expression neutral, tried to still the roiling emotions inside you. Zhongli continued, “however, the city has not heard from Rex Lapis since. Even if he is physically alive, Rex Lapis’ rule over the city has undoubtedly become a relic of the past. To be swept away by time, and forgotten.” 

“Oh.”

“You seem to be deeply affected by Rex Lapis’ departure,” Zhongli observed — not a question. “I’m surprised. You didn’t strike me as the overtly religious type.”

“‘M not,” you murmured. “It’s just—“ 

Just that Rex Lapis didn’t feel like a distant God. You had read so many stories about him — those had been your favorite books, and had grounded you in knowing that there was someone out there, watching over Liyue and all its citizens. Even if you had never known peace, that offered some solace. 

You paused. Your thoughts were all over the place, and you weren’t sure any amount of talking would help sort them through. Rex Lapis was still watching over the city — whether he meant to help you or not, the proof was sitting in the bottom of the drawer in your room. You couldn’t explain it, but you could feel his presence, knew it as certainly as you knew of the mountains and oceans and stars.

“Actually,” you said, a sudden calm soaring through your veins, “I’m okay, thank you, Mr. Zhongli. Rex Lapis has been watching over us for so, so many years, and if a peaceful retirement is what he wants, then it’s the least I can do to grant him that.”

There was such a long period of silence from Zhongli that you couldn’t help but glance at him. The smile on his face had you averting your gaze just as quickly. It made your heart ache. 

“I am sure that, wherever he is, he would be appreciative of that,” he said, his voice tight with— What was that? If you didn’t know better, you would have thought it was mirth.

“What about you, Mr. Zhongli? You have a Geo Vision. I’m sure the news greatly upset you too.” You wondered what an upset Zhongli looked like. For all the conversing you’d been doing with him, you hadn’t seen him emote more than twice. What kind of upbringing must he have had , you found yourself wondering. 

“There were… more than a few stressful moments,” Zhongli admitted. “But a peaceful retirement we shall give him, no?”

---

When you got home, before retreating to your room, you paused at the door. 

“Mr. Zhongli?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, a low sound that vibrated in your bones. You swallowed, throat dry and parched, and knew that if you stopped now, you’d never gain your momentum back again. 

“About me being able to read—“ You stammered. He held out a hand to stop you. 

“As I said, you need only tell me about yourself when you’re ready.”

“I am ready.”

“You’re shaking .” 

The second commercial law of Liyue you had read about in a book about the Qixing’s commandments — it had seemed like common sense to you at the time, but you were beginning to understand it a little more:

“The terms of every contract must be met with something of equivalent value.” 

This was the first step. To truly knowing Zhongli. To understanding him better, like you’d been telling yourself all day. You had to offer something up yourself, too. 

“I want to.” You pressed.

“I see,” Zhongli relented, leaning in towards you. It took everything in you not to start backtracking. “Then please, continue.” 

And so you told him, about the books you’d stolen, about the cloudless nights you waited for eagerly, about the words you read under the pale moonlight. Zhongli remained silent throughout, thoughtful 

“And what made you shy away from telling me this earlier?” He said, finally. 

Did he really have to make you say it? “Because it’s— it’s not my place to learn to read. I wasn’t born into nobility — wasn’t even born into the ranks of the common folk. Someone like me has no business understanding the knowledge meant for the higher classes.” You recited all the words that had been hurled at you before. Still, the ‘ I’m sorry ’ caught against your lips; because you really weren’t. You’d do it all again if you had the choice. 

You waited for him to gaze upon you with disgust. With, finally, the realization of what he had brought into his household — a thief, a rat, a girl who did not know her place.

“Your place ?” Zhongli’s face was unreadable when he finally moved towards you. Despite steeling yourself, you flinched as he brushed past. 

“Follow me,” he said, voice quiet, yet still an order. 

You obeyed, hurrying to keep up as he ascended the long, winding set of stairs up to the library — watched as he opened the door, fear melting quickly into unbearable wonder.

Lining the walls of the enormous, yawning room were honeycomb rows of dark bookshelves, each filled with more books than you’d seen in your life. More books than the rest of Liyue had to offer, you’d venture to wager. Briefly, you wondered if even the National Library of Sumeru could hold a torch to Zhongli’s collection. From where you were standing, you could already see at least a dozen of different titles and genres: folklore, travel guides, mythology, cookbooks, martial art novels, poetry, fairy tales, memoirs—

If Zhongli had struck you down right then, you’d have left the mortal plane with a smile on your face from having been graced with such a sight.

“When Rex Lapis built up the civilization that would eventually become Liyue Harbor,” Zhongli said, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway, “he was not alone in his endeavors. Do you know of Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust?”

You carefully nodded. You’d only ever seen the name once, in a book — “The Stone Tablet Compilations,” you whispered, “Volume One said that she brought agriculture to the people. Taught them to tend the soil, so that they might never go hungry again.” 

You had never seen Zhongli so visibly shocked — amber gaze wide, brow raised — and almost wished that you could save that moment in your mind’s eye for eternity. When he composed himself, there was a smile on his face. “You are full of surprises, Hansi,” he murmured. “And do you know what Rex Lapis gave to the humans?” 

“Currency,” you said, a little more confidently. Who would have thought that all those hours consuming journals and folk tales about Rex Lapis would one day earn you such an important favor? You racked your brains for the exact words that the book had used. “Fire. Knowledge. And the desire to break new ground, with determination unshakeable as mountains.” Zhongli nodded encouragingly, leaning towards you; and so you continue, emboldened. “It’s why he is also called the Lord of Wealth, of the Stove, of History, and the Groundbreaker.”

“Excellent,” Zhongli said, his voice guttural, all but a snarl. “And so, the Gods of Liyue taught the humans how to hunt, to cook, to trade, to live, to protect, no?” 

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you whispered, voice quieter than a breath. He heard you, anyway. 

“You’ll find that the class hierarchy within the ranks of Liyue means precious little to me. And even if they did, restricting the flow of knowledge only to those born into privilege — it’s an absurd notion,” Zhongli gestured with one hand at the books in the room. “It’s an affront to Rex Lapis, who massacred hundreds of gods in the Archon War so Liyue could prosper. It’s an insult to the Goddess of Dust, who gave her life to ensure that the humans passed their legacies and knowledge onto future generations in safety.”

You nodded, not even a single breath left inside you. Every one of his words seemed to send a rumble through the floorboards, quiet but powerful. Never had you met a noble willing to even stray from the unspoken social rules of Liyue, let alone challenge them so boldly. 

“To restrict knowledge is to directly contradict what the Founding Gods of Liyue believed in. I would never stand for it.” Finally, Zhongli turned to meet your stare. To your own surprise, you managed to stop yourself from looking away. And for the dozenth time that week, he shook your world. “The library is yours to use, Hansi. I ask only one thing — a contract of sorts, in keeping with Liyue tradition.”

The last commercial law of Liyue stated that: “Contracts made on Liyue soil were never to be broken, and those who reneged on their word would suffer the unspeakable wrath of the Lord of Geo.” 

Whatever you promised here would be unquestionably binding — and you were ready to agree to it, whatever it was, if it meant you could so much as touch one of the books on these shelves. 

“What is it?” You asked, heart sinking. What sort of cruel price would he demand? What did he want from you that he could not already readily take?

“That you come and tell me,” Zhongli said with a small smile, “about any stories you find particularly enjoyable.”

---

When you were ten, you got caught for the first time. 

You’d made it down the street, clutching the loose pages to your heaving chest, but a loose cobblestone in the paved road had caught on your foot, and with a scream, you’d fallen.

The shopkeeper chasing you dragged you into an alley by your ankle and beat you within an inch of your life, expletives carried by his festering, drunken breath. The fracture in your ribs took two months to heal — three till you could breathe normally again — but it hurt most that before he left, he’d torn the book into shreds, scattering the pieces across the street. What would have meant the world to you had meant nothing to him. 

You never got caught again. 

—-

Standing in front of Zhongli, the giddy realization settled deeply into your heart. You would never have to steal again. Never have to run again. All of these books, more than you could begin to comprehend, more than you could read in a lifetime, were yours.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, warm and wet, but to your relief, you managed to blink them back.

“Deal,” you choked out and for the first time, Zhongli’s smile reached his golden eyes.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day you spend running your fingers across the rows and rows of bound leather, taking inventory of all the words and knowledge and stories that were now at your fingertips — scurrying between the library and your room, arms full of books that caught your eye. 

Zhongli watched you from his seat in the living room each time you passed, offering comments on various books that you had picked out. He seemed especially amused each time you ran past with a book regaling a legend of the Lord of Geo, though you couldn’t think of a reason why. By the time the sun had set, every surface of your room had been touched by a book or two. 

You couldn’t wait to get started, already knew which ones you wanted to read first — there was one that promised the thrilling tale of Rex Lapis’ fight against the Beast of Nian that you were itching to devour. But before anything else, there was something you had to do, something you’d been planning as soon as you’d seen the “The Fine Art of Liyue Cuisine” title on the bookshelves. 

Zhongli had been kind — beyond that, really — about your situation, but you hadn’t forgotten that you were meant to be here for his convenience. You had done nothing but cause him trouble so far, and it was your duty to make up for the expenses you’d cost him. 

(Though really, and though you would never admit it, you couldn’t deny that on some very faint level, you wanted to hear praise, your name, anything come out in that rich, deep voice of his.)

So the next time Zhongli took his walk at Yujing Terrace, you reluctantly and politely declined his invitation. Minutes after his departure, you snuck out of the door, running as fast as you could towards the northern harbor. The recipe for the pen’cai stew had called for fish, but, as you grabbed handfuls of squid from the nearest unattended stall, you decided that seafood would have to do. Seafood was something that refined nobles like Zhongli ate, after all.

The tentacles felt disgusting in your pocket the entire way home, but it was fine. You could bear it for Zhongli. You couldn’t wait to imagine his surprise and delight.

Still, how odd that of all the ingredients, seafood was the only one you couldn’t find in Zhongli’s well-stocked refrigerator! 

When you got home, you breathed a sigh of relief that Zhongli had not come home yet; you didn’t know what you would have said if he had caught you with a pocket full of squid. After changing, you cracked the recipe book open, staring at it. You’d chosen this recipe because its description had stated “ no refinement is needed for this dish ”, but still, some of these terms flew right over your head. What the fuck was a “julienne”?

Zhongli had used the stove several times, mostly to heat up leftovers from the abysmal amount of food he frequently bought, and it hadn’t seemed too hard at all for him. You would learn, just as you always did. 

---

By the time Zhongli returned home, smoke was still billowing from the windows. 

---

It was all a bit of a haze for you. The oil had started producing bright sparks (in your defense, how were you supposed to make sense of “ Heat Oil Until Hot ”??), and you knew enough about cooking at least to know that that wasn’t good. 

You also thought you knew enough about cooking to know that embers had to be put out by water. The resulting bang had sent you rolling to the floor, and when you’d gotten back up, the curtains by the stove were ablaze

When Zhongli found you, you were frozen in fear — you had backup plans for if the food burnt, but this… this went a little past that. 

From behind you, you heard a loud whoosh, felt the force of the earth knock into you. The room became enveloped briefly in a golden glow, and as you watched, the fire faded into embers, then smoke. A single glowing, red gem clattered to the ground, before dissipating with a loud hiss.

“H-how?” Was the first word out of your lips. 

“When Geo reacts with—“ Zhongli shook his head, cutting his explanation short for the first time you’d heard, “never mind that. Are you alright? Can you move?”

You let him lead you outside, numbly, silently. Finally, out in the fresh morning air, he peered down at you. You searched his face for anger, but found only mild curiosity. “Now,” Zhongli said, sitting on the grass by your side, ”would you like to tell me what happened in there?”

The weight of what you’d done hit you like an angry boar. Treacherous tears gathering behind your eyes, you whispered “I’m so sorry,” barely able to get the apologies out fast enough. “I— I thought I would surprise you with breakfast, but— but the oil and the water...“ You trailed off when he raised his hand to cover his mouth — out of anger? No, there was a smile on his face. A smile!

“My my,” he mused, the smallest of smiles playing on his face. “Truly, you are a child of Liyue. Always trying new things, rushing in headstrong.” Zhongli shook his head wistfully. “It reminds me of myself, many years ago.”

“You?” You asked in disbelief, feeling your eyes widen. You hadn’t once seen him with so much a button out of place on his intricate coat; weren’t convinced he hadn’t come out of the womb drinking pu’er tea and writing poetry. “ You’ve set things on fire before, Mr. Zhongli?”

“More times than I can count,” his smile widened, and you felt like you had learned a secret of the Gods themselves. “But as I learned, so must you: you can always ask for help, Hansi.”

Suddenly, it didn’t feel like he was talking about cooking anymore. As always, his words were so slow, so deliberate that you scoured them for a hidden meaning. If you didn’t know better, you would be deathly sure that he knew of your difficulties with the Vision. And right now, sitting on the grass next to you after you had almost burned down his home, Zhongli had never felt more approachable. Maybe you could tell him, after all.

Starting a fire was one thing , you chided yourself. Lying about possessing the power of one of the Seven Archons is another.

“I will keep that in mind, Mr. Zhongli.” You said, instead, bowing your head a little. “Thank you for… not being mad.”

“It is I who should be thanking you for your thoughtfulness. And what is it that you were trying to cook for me, my dear?”

You almost jumped at that, feeling warm color blossoming within your cheeks. He probably called everyone that — he was so traditional, after all. “Seafood stew, Mr. Zhongli.” 

Finally, to your utter confusion, Zhongli’s smile bloomed into a rich laugh. “Then I’m very sorry I missed it,” he chuckled. “Are culinary skills something you would like to learn, Hansi?” 

“Yes,” you said, frustration and indignance culminating into determination. There wasn’t one thing you hadn’t been able to learn when you’d put your heart to it — reading, stealing, surviving. Well, except... “Please, teach me.”

“You deserve a far better teacher than I,” Zhongli said, standing up and dusting his coat off, before offering you his hand. “Let’s pay Wanmin Restaurant a visit, shall we?” Then, wrinkling his nose, “though perhaps... After we rid the house of any more fire hazards.”

---

At the counter of Wanmin Restaurant was a man you had never seen before, though his resemblance to Xiangling was striking. He perked up immediately upon seeing you and Zhongli approach.

“Mr. Zhongli!” He waved frantically. “Thank you for the medicine! My knee feels better already.”

“I’m glad, Chef Mao. I’ve heard that Bubu Pharmacy’s herbal cures are nothing short of divine miracles,” Zhongli said. “Though I hear from Xiangling that you’ve been gathering herbs near Jueyun Karst? You must know that it is extremely dangerous for humans to enter.”

“Of course, of course!” Chef Mao laughed good-naturedly. “You don’t have to warn me twice. I make sure to give that place a good berth —  I don’t have enough lives to go around meeting any Adepti. Now, what brings you here today? Xiangling or I will cook anything you’re in the mood for.”

Zhongli shook his head gently. “I’ll have to take you up on that offer some other time. Today, I was hoping to ask Xiangling for some culinary tutelage. This young lady here is looking to learn how to cook.”

“Oh!” Chef Mao peered at you, as though he had just noticed you. Of course, it hadn’t helped that you were trying to hide behind Zhongli the whole time. He turned around and yelled into the kitchen, “XIANGLING! COME HERE, MR. ZHONGLI AND HIS—“ 

A pause, as he glanced between you and Zhongli, trying to ascertain your relationship.

“Friend,” Zhongli supplied. You hated that your heart skipped a beat.

“—FRIEND ARE HERE TO SEE YOU!”

Almost immediately, Xiangling’s head popped out from behind the window, waving and beaming dazzlingly. As Zhongli explained the situation to her, you once again wondered where she was storing her endless cheer. Perhaps in her hairbuns. 

“I hope that it is not too much trouble,” Zhongli concluded, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping aside. You wanted to scream at the thought that he knew you’d been trying to hide behind him.

“Nonsense!” Chef Mao slapped his hands together, and you were beginning to see where Xiangling got her enthusiasm from. “If not for you getting Wanmin Restaurant this spot on Chihu Rock, why, Rex Lapis would never have found us and written such flattering poetry about our food. Then where would we be? No favor is too big for you, my friend, let alone something so trivial as this.” 

You glanced up at Zhongli, but his expression did not change. Just exactly how much influence did Zhongli have over the city? 

Just who was he? 

“Would Miss Hansi want to work as my apprentice for a few weeks?” Xiangling asked, thoughtfully. “With the winter coming up soon, we’re going to need a lot of ingredients, so I could use an extra hand. We can’t pay very much, maybe 1,000 Mora a week, but I’ll keep you nice and full, I promise!”

A thousand Mora — that was more than you had ever had at once in your life. You jumped to say yes, but stopped yourself just in time. It wasn’t up to you. For all Zhongli’s benevolence, what nobleman would want a servant (is that what you even were?) that they'd paid for gone all day? 

You looked to Zhongli for his answer. And when he only waited patiently, you prompted, “may I accept this offer, Mr. Zhongli?”

“You are free to do as you please, Hansi.” Zhongli said, and the surprise didn’t sting as much as it used to. “I think it would be a great opportunity.”

You had never been more sure of the following “yes!” that you almost shouted at Xiangling.

Chef Mao laughed. “We’ll see how much of that enthusiasm you can keep when Xiangling starts working you to the bone!” He waved at Zhongli. “Xiangling and I will show her around the restaurant. You should get back to your work, Mr. Zhongli — you must be a very busy man.”

Zhongli raised a brow, but did not comment further. “Will you be able to find your way back home, Hansi?”

After getting your affirmation, Zhongli nodded and walked away. You would have watched him leave, if you could, studying every detail on the back of his coat — but Xiangling grabbed your hand.

“Come on!” She was almost vibrating from excitement, and you couldn’t help but match her grin with your own. “There’s SO much I need to show you!”

---

By the time Xiangling released you from your duties for the day (and you had learned more words than you thought existed), the city had grown dark.

It had been so exciting, the prospect of having a real, actual job that you didn’t have much else on your mind. And so your first mistake, you realized too late, was trying to find the same shortcuts that Zhongli had used to get home. The alleyways at night were strangers to you  — and there was good reason for it.

You thought it was your imagination at first, but it became more apparent with every crawling second: there was another pair of footsteps that echoed each of your own. You quickened your pace, noticing the echo match yours almost perfectly. As you turned down deeper between the buildings, you forced your foot to stop halfway to the ground.

The echoing footstep clacked against the cobblestone. 

There was a flurry of movement behind you, your pursuer realizing that their cover had been blown. The figure lunged at you, and you ducked at the last second— you were used to bigger men throwing their bodies at you, had long since learned how to use their weight against them. With all your strength, you aimed a kick at the man’s groin—

Only for him to catch your ankle with one of his gloved hands, yanking you off your feet, and throwing you against the wall. The impact knocks all the air from your lungs. You scrambled to get back to your feet, coughing. Instinctively, you reached for your chest, where your Vision once was. It wasn’t there. Of course. And even if it was, what good would it be?

“Feisty,” the man remarked, leaning in to peer at you. In the dim moonlight, you could see a strange red mask hanging his cheek, stark against his auburn hair. At his hip, a Vision glowed royal blue, with a frame that you had never seen before. “What on Teyvat has Zhongli gotten himself into?”

---

“Who are you?” You snapped. The man kept his careful distance from you, but you were sure that he would be able to catch you in seconds if you ran. The way he had moved to meet your blow was practiced, skilled, even. It seemed that you had misjudged his intentions — he was not some drunken man seeking pleasure. “Are you from Bawang ?”

“Ba—what?” The man shook his head, clutching his heart in a dramatic show of dismay. “I’m hurt. Didn’t Mr. Zhongli not tell you about me? Not even a passing mention?”

Eyeing him carefully, you racked your brains. Was he a friend of Zhongli’s? Surely no associate of Zhongli would corner you in an alley at night and push you over... Right? You were realizing how little (absolutely nothing, to be exact), you knew about Zhongli’s life. 

 “Was the ‘who are you?’ not enough of a clue?”

The man grinned wickedly in the night, eyes glinting at your mockery. “What a tongue you have on you. Didn’t know that was Zhongli’s type.” He offered his hand to you. “I’m Tartaglia, codename Childe. Pleased to meet you.”

You stared at his hand like you would a can of live worms. “The one from the Fatui.”

The message received, he let his hand fall back to his side. “So he has talked about me. And here I was, thinking that he saw me as just a puppet.” He mused. You had no clue what he was talking about, but it was immediately clear that the man was dangerous. 

“Are you here to collect his debt? I don’t have any money.” 

“Debt?” Tartaglia laughed. “No, there’s no debt . Mr. Zhongli has unlimited access to the Northland Bank’s funds. Yeah,” he clarified, mistaking your shock for confusion. “Turns out, you need to read the fine print when it comes to making deals with the guy.”

“Then what do you want from me?” 

“Oh, come now,” he raised his palms in a placating manner, “don’t be so harsh. I’m only here to investigate. Zhongli has been buying enough food for a small army, and while it’s not entirely unusual of him, he also made a large payment to a certain company... that let’s just say even the Fatui won’t touch with a six-foot pole.” Tartaglia swept his glance over you from head to toe. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

You stayed silent, wishing to the Archons that looks could kill.

“I don’t know why he… acquired you, but believe me, he’s always got some kind of plan going on in that head of his.” Tartaglia sighed. “Anyway, where’s your Vision? 

You stiffened. “Vision?” You scoffed. The false disbelief came easily, naturally. “You think the Archons would give someone so pathetic a Vision?” 

“You can cut the crap. I saw the way you reached for it there. I’ve seen that look way too many times. Vision-holders who get too dependent, who think that having one makes them invincible.” Tartaglia’s lip curled. “A Vision wouldn’t have saved you from me, girlie. But someone as weak as you should at least be carrying it around.”

Every moment of the day, you thought of it, of how all your problems would be solved if — when — you mastered the power of the Archons. The thought that it wouldn’t, that knowing how to use a Vision wouldn’t make you invincible to the world, was devastating.

Before you, Tartaglia’s eyes were the color of the ocean during monsoon seasons, deep, roiling, devastating. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to lie again, so you lowered your head.

“That’s what I thought. What element?”

“Geo,” you said quietly. The only thing you could do here was keep him talking, long enough until you could find a chance to escape. From what you could tell, he didn’t seem to be on too-friendly terms with Zhongli. Perhaps he wouldn’t tell him, after all. 

“Of course.” He nodded, as though there was no other answer.

“What do you mean, of course?” 

“ What I mean is —“ Tartaglia peered at you, raising a single brow. “Hmm. What does Zhongli think of your Vision?”

You bit your lip to stop from responding. This was dangerous territory. As the seconds dragged on in silence, you watched a glimmer of glee creep into Tartaglia’s eyes. “Oh! Oh my Archon. You haven’t told him!” The Fatui Harbinger threw back his head and laughed with abandon. “Oh, that’s great! This is beautiful!”

You waited a good half minute for Tartaglia to finally wipe all the tears from his cheeks. “Are you done?” You’d been slowly edging towards the exit of the alley, keeping your eyes trained on the Fatui. As long as you could get to Wanmin Restaurant you would be safe... but no. You couldn’t drag Xiangling and Chef Mao into this. You still didn’t understand half the things Tartaglia had said, but you knew that the Fatui’s attention wasn’t something you wanted, no matter who you were.

“Yes, yes,” Tartaglia huffed, fanning himself dramatically.

“What’s so funny?”

“My contract ,” he almost spat the word, “mandates that I stay silent about that one, sorry.  But don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secret. I’d love to see the look on your face when... Anyway. I’m here to give you an offer.”

“Next time, try offering over lunch or something,” you didn’t know where you found the courage to snap, “instead of in an alley.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tartaglia threw his hands up, somewhat apologetically. “It’s been so hard to catch you alone.” Had he been watching you and Zhongli? You grimaced. “But anyway. How would you like… all the Mora you could ever need? Anything you want to buy, eat or wear, yours, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. 

“…And what do you want from me?”

“Information,” he replied, “about Zhongli. How to fight him, really, but also anything else he—“ 

At this point, you were beginning to feel inclined to believe that the man was simply missing half his marbles. Finally feeling like you had put enough distance between him and yourself, you turned and ran — for a whole two seconds, when a strong force yanked you backwards. 

“Hey now, hasn’t Mr. Zhongli taught you anything about manners?” He tutted as you flailed in his grip, “I wasn’t done talking— whoa!”

He ducked, barely avoiding a projectile that whizzed past his cheek, so close that you could hear it whistle through the air. You peer at where it landed, firmly embedded into the brick wall. 

It was a golden spear that glowed dimly in the light. Its design was immaculate, intricate, beautiful , you thought numbly, as you watched it fade before your eyes. 

“Well then,” Tartaglia said tightly, “never mind  her manners. It’s not like you to get so worked up, Mr. Zhongli.”

You snapped your head towards the entrance of the alleyway. You’d recognize the silhouette anywhere, but in that moment, with the same spear gripped in his hand and his features edged silver under the moonlight, eyes glowing a ravenous gold, Zhongli looked particularly divine.

“If I were worked up , Childe, I would not have missed,” Zhongli said, twirling the spear once before setting the pole against the cobblestone. The way he moved -- natural, relaxed, as though the polearm seemed like an extension of his body. There was no anger in his voice, but you felt a slight tremor in the ground under your feet and, despite your situation, a jolt of excitement at the thought of seeing Zhongli fight, seeing a Geo Vision in use. 

“Oho?” Childe let go of your sleeve, crouching down low as glowing blue energy gathered in his hands. “Sure sounds like you’re asking for a fight. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this!” 

Zhongli regarded him coolly for a moment. “Look around you. Is this really where you want to fight me, Childe?” He raised his head, and you and Tartaglia followed his gaze to a window. Behind the glass, you could make out a young girl’s face as she stared wide-eyed down at the scene below. 

To your surprise, the Fatui paused. You hadn’t marked him down as the type to worry about collateral damage. Finally, he shifted back into a more relaxed stance, waving his fingers clean of Hydro. “You know me a little too well, Mr. Zhongli,” he smiled, all hostility seemingly forgotten. You may have misjudged his empathy, but you certainly hadn’t imagined his unhinged nature. 

“What business do you have with Hansi?” Zhongli asked.

“That’s our little secret. Well, I’ll leave you two to… whatever it is you do.” He winked. “Remember, you still owe me a dinner sometime, Mr. Zhongli.”

“Certainly,” Zhongli said, lowering his hand and letting his spear disintegrate from between his fingers. “Though I must warn you, it will be the Northland Bank bearing the bill.” 

“Of course.” Childe chuckled one more time, as though he remembered something funny. “See you around, Hansi.”

---

On the way home, Zhongli was uncharacteristically quiet. As you entered the warmth of his — of your home, you tried to break the silence. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Zhongli.”

Zhongli stayed quiet for a short while more, staring at you so intently it stung. “Forgive my silence,” he finally said. “When I couldn’t find you at Wanmin, I thought that you had been hurt or… that you had run away.”

Astonished, you didn’t really know what to say. Running away was a thought that had crossed your mind, but each time, the cons far outweighed the pros. You were more than familiar with what awaited you on the streets of Liyue. “I am not so stupid to be ignorant of what would happen to me if I did” There was a pregnant pause. “And besides, I have had no reason to, Mr. Zhongli. You have been more than kind to me.”

Zhongli smiled. Was it just your imagination, or were his meltingly gorgeous smiles coming more and more often? Trying not to let your thoughts wander, you blurted the first thing that came to mind. “That spear was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It has served me well.”

“Do you really know how to use it?” There had been no weaponry in the house that you’d seen, but you believed him wholeheartedly.

“I am somewhat versed in its usage, yes.” 

“How long did it take you to learn how to fight?” You wondered, sincerely. 

“I have always known how to fight, for as long as I can remember.” Suddenly, his weathered hands made sense. With your notions of him growing up as a sheltered, rich noble shattered, you had never been more curious of his past. Had he been part of the Millelith? “Though, I have since come to learn that it was never true strength. Why do you ask, Hansi?”

You hesitated, nervously glancing away. Way to dig yourself a hole. “Just wondering.”

“Hansi, I gave you my word to keep you safe, to the best of my abilities. However, I fear that there may be times when I may not be by your side, such as tonight.” Zhongli seemed to think deeply about his next words. “Remember that if you want to learn how to fight, you just need to ask.” 

Tell him , a voice in your mind screamed. Tell him about the damned Vision.

As tempting as it was, you were indeed more than familiar with what awaited you on the streets of Liyue. You would not risk, even remotely, your position in Zhongli’s household.

“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli,” you mustered the warmest smile you could, as you stood up to retreat to your room. “I will keep that in mind.”

“That’s all I ask,” Zhongli exhaled deeply. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Chapter Text

“To the left, to the left!” 

With an embarrassingly loud screech, you lunged forward, desperately searching for any movement in the dry grass. Adrenaline still hot in your veins, you jumped violently when Xiangling pat you on the shoulder.

“ Your left,” Xiangling corrected, pointing in the opposite direction of which you threw yourself. 

You both stared wordlessly for a moment as the squirrel scurried away and out of sight. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, cheeks hot against the morning air. This was the third expedition you’d embarked on so far, and you’d still yet to catch anything that could move faster than a sweet flower.

“That’s okay! Just means that I’ll need to come up with some dishes to make with the ingredients we have so far!” You could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain as she rummaged through the basket of plants that you had gathered, murmuring to herself. “Is this everything we gathered today?”

You hesitated before rifling through your pockets and producing the brown, lumpy object you’d found at the start of your expedition. You weren’t sure it was even edible (it certainly didn’t smell like it), but you wondered if it might suffice to salvage the botched trip, even a little. 

“OH!” Xiangling’s eyes lit up soon as she saw what was in your hand. “Where did you find this?”

You peered at her cautiously, not sure if this was a good reaction or not. Also, her voice seemed to have hit a new high and you were worried it would begin to attract monsters. 

“Uh, back there, in those ruins. There was a bunch,” you offered, pointing in the direction. “Is it usable?”

Xiangling seemed to have begun visibly vibrating. “ Usable? This is Matsutake! It’s a rare mushroom, and it’s so versatile that it can be used in place of any— Oh, I’ll explain later, let’s go get them all before a boar finds them first!” 

The sun was well above the horizon by the time you gathered enough Matsutake to fill the two baskets you’d brought. Xiangling had already started a fire with some Dendro slime concentrate — the way she’d taught you to do — when you returned from washing the mushrooms in a nearby stream. 

“Could you chop the Jueyun Chilis for me, please?” Xiangling said, barely looking up from the wok. No matter how bubbly she had been, the moment she stood in front of a blazing fire and a vast array of ingredients, Xiangling always adopted a demeanor of complete calm. It was almost unnerving to watch, sometimes, how focused she could get. You hurried to obey.

“How many?”

She peered up then, the licking flames painting her grin a bright orange. “Hansi, have I taught you nothing over the past week?” She thumped her chest twice with a flour-covered hand, “in Mondstadt, they might use measurements like cups and tablespoons— but that’s not how I do things! In Liyue, we listen to our hearts. Just let Rex Lapis guide your hand!”

You stared at the chilis. If you’re just giving out guidance nowadays , you directed your silent thoughts towards the earth beneath your feet, I’d love to know what your deal with the Vision is.

In the end, you emptied just half a chili into the wok, because even just chopping it was beginning to make your eyes water. It instantly stained the hot oil a bright red. For the rest of the morning, you watched as Xiangling bustled around your little campsite, tasting this and that, asking you for various small and bewildering favors — you certainly hope that she didn’t really use the lizard tail that she had you go hunt down. 

While at first you paid careful attention to Xiangling, the sight of a piece of Cor Lapis gleaming under the morning light dragged your thoughts elsewhere — towards what ( who ) was waiting for you when you returned home. 

“Okay!” Xiangling finally said, making you jump. “Sorry that took so long! I’ve never had so much Matsutake to experiment with at once.” She held out two neatly packaged lunch boxes. “Take these, one for you, one for Mr Zhongli! It’s Matsutake Stirfry with Potatoes and Carrots! … I’ll come up with a better name later.”

You accepted the boxes with gracious thanks, just the smell wafting from them making your mouth water. 

“I really want to see the look on your face when you taste it, but we’ve been out here for a little over five hours now,” Xiangling mused. Had it really already been five? Time seemed to fly when you were with Xiangling. “You should probably hurry home or Mr. Zhongli will get worried.”

You absently thanked her again, all the while wondering at the truth of that. Zhongli had certainly seemed a little worried after the incident with Tartaglia, briefly, though he quickly returned to his usual, unreadable demeanor. The idea that someone was waiting for you, would get worried if you never came home — it was bafflingly foreign, but also… so very warm. 

As you turned to go, you could hear the grin in Xiangling’s voice when she called after you, “and here you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to help. This dish was only possible because of you, Hansi!”

Briefly and painfully, you yearned to understand how Xiangling managed to make a good thing of any situation. It seemed that there was far more than just cooking that Xiangling could teach you.

—-------------------

“Wonderfully seasoned,” Zhongli praised that afternoon, and you prayed that he didn’t notice your cheeks blushing as red as the chili oil. “A perfect balance of spice. Did you help make this?”

You bit back a smile as you nodded, and sent Rex Lapis your silent thanks for his... guidance. 

—-------------------

Easing into Zhongli’s life was easier than you would ever have imagined. 

After your disastrous breakfast incident, you had made a habit of waking early and accompanying him on his walks in the morning — at first to make up for setting his house on fire, then later, out of enjoyment. You found yourself looking forward to your long walks, breathing in the fresh air and seeing Liyue Harbor bathed in the dawnlight. 

Before you knew it, you had memorized a few things about the mornings of Liyue: which routes to Yujing Terrace let you catch the early sunrise; what time Wanmin restaurant’s fresh shao’bing buns come out of the oven; and when little old Madame Ping, whom Zhongli always greeted respectfully, hobbled up the hill to water the glaze lilies. 

 It was only when Zhongli mentioned black perch stew and you lamented that Mr. Sun from the fish market wouldn’t get new stock until Monday, that you realized just how deeply entrenched in domestic life you had become.

There were other things you noticed too; the street corner where you used to play, sleep and beg. The sink behind the souvenir shop that you snuck to at night just to get a drink of clean water. Children who’d had the misfortune of being born like you, into families who couldn’t imagine feeding another mouth. 

These things struck you with increasing guilt — of every child of Liyue who grew up without a home, what made you deserving of salvation? — but mostly, with fear. If Zhongli got tired of you, if you once again found yourself in that life... 

Well . 

You swept those thoughts deep deep deeper into your head, and forged on.

—-------------------

“Another umbrella, Mr. Zhongli?” You raised a brow. When had you begun to point out his eccentric purchases? You weren’t sure. “We’ve bought four today.” 

“Ah,” Zhongli smiled, already reaching for the fifth. “Yes, so we have. Do you like white rabbit candy? Let’s get two bags.”

Resigned, you followed along, your exasperation quickly fizzling out as soon as you turned a corner and came face to face with the wide-eyed, dirt-smeared faces of a group of orphans. Dressed in lovely clean clothes and with so much color in your cheeks — you couldn’t imagine how you looked to them. You saw so much of yourself in their hungry gazes that you had to look away. 

You watched as Zhongli bent down so that he met them at eye level. “Please, accept these,” he held out the umbrellas, and suddenly you began finding it hard to breathe, “it looks like there’s a storm coming. And also, won’t you all also take some sweets—?”

—-------------------

You, of course, kept your contract with Zhongli, as religiously as you would one with an Adeptus, or Rex Lapis himself. Each book that you enjoyed, you meticulously brought to him as though an offering, and each time, he seemed to have something to offer of his own. A book about the Five Yaksha, tales of the Dragon King, the legend of how Guyun Stone Forest was formed, memoirs from Guili Assembly — Zhongli always had some twist of his own to add to the stories. 

“Did you know that before they came to serve Rex Lapis, the Yaksha were bound to a cruel, tyrannical God? Yet when they were freed, they chose to honor a contract to protect the humans of Liyue. How admirable.”

“Precious few stories speak of it, but the Dragon King was not sealed by Rex Lapis due to a disagreement, but rather, because he broke a contract. What contract exactly? Well, I can’t be ruining too many books for you now, can I, Hansi?”

“These illustrations of the spears that originally comprise Guyun Stone Forest are… certainly interesting. Why did they deem that stone spears formed from the essence of Geo themselves would possess tassels and a ribbon? I doubt that during the Archon War, Rex Lapis had time to consider the appearance of his weapons.” 

“My my, these books certainly are taking their liberties with their descriptions of the Goddess of Dust. Kind, yes, gentle, perhaps, but weak? Why, is the Guizhong Ballista not one of the most powerful mechanisms in all of Liyue, even thousands of years after it was built? I would truly like to see what these authors consider strength.” 

Each time you marveled at his vast pools of knowledge, Zhongli would, without fail, exhale deeply and smile his small smile. “I have a good memory,” was always his explanation. You couldn’t help but wonder just how many books the man had read in his lifetime — and where he found the time to do anything else. 

While you were frequently more than impressed by his reserve of stories, the sentiment did not seem to extend to others in Liyue. More than one time had you and Zhongli been escorted, forcibly, from the Third-Round Knockout after your companion stood up to correct the storyteller on the stage. 

The first time, you were mortified, though by the sixth you had learned to laugh it off as breezily as Zhongli did.

—-------------------

Sometimes, you recalled your earliest days at Zhongli’s house; how he had told you that your first order of business was to recover your health. 

You had recovered, and so, what was next to come? 

The house was always spotless despite the increasing number of items that Zhongli seemed to bring home each day from his walks. More than once, you reflected on his claims that he needed household help, and realized that he may not have been entirely truthful.

On particularly bad days, when the haze of doubt threatened to overtake every logical thought in your mind, you waited for his gaze to turn cruel, for his fingers to grip you painfully and for him to take whatever he wanted. 

Yet — never did he so much as touch you. 

—-------------------

The Vision sat as heavily in your conscience as it did in your bedside table.

You opened the drawer frequently to stare at the thing, more of a plague on you than a blessing, at this point. If you could not use it, then it was just an ornament — an ornament that put your  amicable acquaintanceship with Zhongli at risk. 

If he were to find out on his own, it would be so much worse than if you’d told him. The very notion of hurt, betrayal and fury in those amber eyes was almost too much for you to hear.

And so, one day, you decided that it would simply be best if you told him.

—-------------------

You rehearsed a script for hours on end, trying to guess each and every one of Zhongli’s potential reactions. Certainly, he would be upset, perhaps disappointed. You were almost sure that he would not hurt you over the discovery. And even if he did, perhaps it wouldn’t be anything you didn’t deserve, for lying for so long.

When you were finally ready, your knock on his door was answered by a deep, rich, “yes?” 

You had never seen the inside of Zhongli’s room before, and so as you pushed the door open, you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt at the idea of seeing more of the man, learning more about him.

Your gaze first laid upon his face, edged silver in the moonlight. Then, immediately, it trailed downwards, to his shoulders, then—

Zhongli wasn’t wearing even a scrap of clothing. 

“Oh,” he said, slightly raised brows betraying nothing but mild surprise, “I was changing.” 

Wordlessly, you slammed the door shut and returned to your room.

—-------------------

When Zhongli came knocking ten minutes later, you were still a little dazed. 

“Come in,” you called, and as he entered you were somewhat relieved to see that he was clad in his usual four layers of clothing. “Do you see how I said come in, Mr Zhongli? Because I wasn’t changing?”

“I believe what I said was ‘yes’.” It was never easy to tell what Zhongli was thinking, with his carefully neutral expression, but was there a small smile in his voice there?

“You can’t—“ you realized with a certain degree of shock at how casually you had begun to address Zhongli. (You searched yourself for fear, and found none.) “—You can’t just say ‘yes’ when what you mean is ‘hang on, I’m completely nude!’” 

“I do apologize. I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Zhongli said, and there was absolutely, definitely a small smile in his voice there. “What is it you wanted to tell me, Hansi?”

You opened your mouth, but paused. 

In the darkness of his room, you had barely been able to make out what seemed to be odd lines down his arms and chest — tattoos? You hadn’t expected a nobleman like him to be so covered in them. But more importantly, in the few seconds you had beheld Zhongli’s well-toned form, you had seen what you knew all too well — scars, raked across his torso, stomach, legs, the raised tissue gleaming under the moonlight. 

He had mentioned he had been fighting all his life, that he had been a soldier— but it was difficult to imagine even the Millelith facing foes so formidable that it could have left such injuries, and so many. What could have hurt him so badly? 

What was he hiding from you?

The way he was looking at you expectantly suddenly felt strangely alien; the same Zhongli you had come to know and trust, but— not quite.

And so, you swallowed your question about the Vision. “Xiangling wanted me to get a backpack,” you said instead, “for when we gather herbs. Do you think it would be okay if we got one next time, Mr. Zhongli? I promise to pay you back for it when I earn enough Mora.”

“Hansi,” he said, after his usual few seconds of careful studying, and he sounded so concerned that it was almost comical. “Whatever gave you the impression that you would be forced to pay for anything of the sort while living under my roof?” 

—-------------------

Perhaps in a valiant attempt to dissuade you of your sudden preoccupation with paying for things, Zhongli began to shower you with them. The first of the gifts was a beautiful bookmark, a thin piece of metal shaped to look like the Xiao lanterns of the Lantern Rite. It seemed to glow iridescent under lamplight, and you loved it so much that you carried it everywhere you went, the same way you never took off your glaze lily necklace.

Once Zhongli had ascertained that you did not mind gifts, and in fact enjoyed them, the floodgates swung open. Over the next few weeks, he would bring you various small items each time he returned from work or a walk: a Noctilucuous Jade hairpin, a painting of Luhua Pool, a golden gemstone that he called “Prithiva Topaz”, a small and surprisingly heavy pillar-shaped charm which he claimed came from a formidable monster from Guyun Stone Forest—

And on the most barren days, when the bustling markets of Liyue offered nothing that could meet Zhongli’s most particular standards, he would bring home various steamed buns, fresh fruit, and beverages, noting with keen amber eyes which ones were your favorites. Today, he had brought back a pitcher of “the finest gui’hua tea Liyue has to offer”. 

Sitting in a room full of memorabilia that Zhongli had picked out for you, and sipping hot tea that warmed you to your core, you began to understand the feeling of home.

—-

The men were furious. You could feel their blunt rage in the air, tense enough to cut with a blade. If your wrists weren’t tied up, you might have been able to make a run for it. 

“Welcome back. Do you know how much you cost us?” They snarled, one, two, three, four pairs of eyes staring you down. In the back, you could see the man with the scar on his eyebrow, the one who had escorted you to Zhongli. “Are you ready to pay us back?”

“Where is Mr. Zhongli?” You managed to whisper. 

“Don’t you remember? He got tired of you,” they sneered in unison. “Surely you didn’t think someone like you would be enough to satisfy his appetite?” 

Desperately, you shook your head. “He wouldn’t have. What did you do to him?”

One of them stepped forward and slapped you so hard that you briefly see white. “How stupid can you get?” His jaw cracked open into an unnatural, teeth grin, and the others followed suit all at once. “To start to trust, to start to dream ?” 

You tried to back away, but your knees would not move. They were close enough to touch now, and together, like one grotesque entity, they reached out. “You should know better by now. You should know your place .”

Before their melting, festering fingers could touch your skin, you opened your mouth and screamed for Zhongli.

—-------------------

Across the house, Zhongli’s eyes snapped open, casting the room in a golden glow.

It wouldn’t be the last, but that had been the first time you had called him simply by his name.

—-------------------

You woke up to Zhongli calling yours, and couldn’t help the violent flinch that shook your shoulders when you saw him looming over you. The relief you felt at recognizing Zhongli’s silhouette was unimaginable. 

“I heard you calling my name,” Zhongli said, raising both palms in a placating gesture. “Are you alright? Were you having a nightmare?”

Was that all it was; a dream? Your throat was hoarse — the screaming certainly wasn’t dreamed — and your chest raw from the fear and desperation. It felt like your skull was stuffed with cotton. Blindly, you reached out, relief washing away the last vestiges of the social norms instilled within you.

“You didn’t send me back?” You whispered, clutching at any patch of silk and skin you could find. “You didn’t leave?”

“No,” Zhongli met your fingers with his, holding your hand in a firm, gentle grip. He wasn’t wearing gloves, you realized absently. “Never.”

You stayed there for a few long seconds— or was it minutes? “Don’t go,” you begged when he began to pull away. Your eyelids were growing heavy, but the lingering haze of fear had you terrified of going to sleep again. “Please, don’t go.”

You heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. “I’m here, Hansi,” Zhongli said, as you watched him sit down next to your bed. He was still holding your hand. “Get some rest. I will be with you.”

Zhongli’s rich, clear voice resonated through every inch of your body. You trusted him, you realized, letting your eyes shut. You would trust him with every breath of your being.

—-------------------

When you dreamed again, you found yourself in an endless land of clouds. 

Zhongli sat in the midst of it all, eyes closed, unmoving. The soft glow of stars formed a nimbus of gold and dust around his temples. His chest rose and fell gently, and you were certain that you would see no better embodiment of peace for the rest of your life, not even if you lived for a thousand years. 

You wanted to call out to him, but to break the tranquility of the moment seemed unforgivable. 

And so for the rest of the night, you watched him breathe; and you were content.

Chapter Text

You were pleased to see a hint of surprise on Zhongli’s face when you flung open the front door three hours before you were meant to come home from work. Even Zhongli got caught off guard sometimes, it seemed. 

“Back so soon?” Zhongli put down his book and watched with raised brows as you sprinted across the living room to your own, then back. “Oh dear, has there been another fire?”

“Very funny,” you found yourself smiling. “Xiangling wants to bring me to Cuijie Slope to gather some Qingxin. We might be camping there overnight! She told me to go home and grab some warmer clothing.” You flapped your billowing white sleeves at him to make your point. This was one of the first pieces of clothing he had bought you, and you found excuses to wear it the moment so much as a breeze picked up. It was warm, comfortable, and it had pockets!

Though certainly, the way that Zhongli usually smiled when he saw you in it wasn’t half bad either. 

Today, he did not smile. “Cuijie Slope?” The slight edge to Zhongli’s voice had you taking pause as you slung your backpack over your shoulder. You studied his face, but found, as always, nothing to betray his emotions. “Xiangling told you that?”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, more carefully now. “Is it a problem? Sorry, I should have asked you beforehand, I know—“

“Hmm. It’s nothing at all.” Zhongli said, picking his book back up. “Though Cuijie is known to have its fair share of Hilichurl camps, Xiangling is a good fighter. You two will be fine.” 

Ouch. Though there was no way Zhongli could know of your Vision, it still stung that Xiangling had so much mastery over hers and you— well. 

“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli.” You quietly returned to your room, the oddity of the interaction quickly forgotten in your excitement. This would be the furthest you had ever ventured out of Liyue Harbor, and with the lovely Xiangling, no less. You stuffed an extra set of clothes into your bag, and another book for good measure — sometimes waiting for the hunting traps to spring took hours that even Xiangling’s bright voice couldn’t fill. 

You paused in front of the drawer by your bed. It certainly didn’t seem like fate was fond of the idea of you seeking Zhongli’s help with the Vision, and frankly, neither were you. At best, you would receive lessons from the most talented (and only) Geo Vision user you knew. At worst? Well, you had never seen Zhongli’s fury, and you didn’t plan on forcing him into one. The longer you waited, the angrier he would be at your deception. Perhaps your chance at telling him had already passed.

And what good would the Vision be if you brought it with you? If Xiangling saw it, would she tell Zhongli? Though you didn’t think so, it was not a risk you were willing to take.

Before you left, your gaze fell upon the dragon’s fang on the windowsill. Whether it was truly Rex Lapis’, you did not know; but you could not imagine Zhongli lying. You stuffed it into your bag along with everything else. Certainly, something associated with the God of Wealth would be good luck all the same. 

Zhongli had already opened the front door for you when you emerged from your room, waiting with his hands behind his back. “Have a lovely trip,” he said, with so much warmth in his voice that you briefly considered cancelling on Xiangling and staying home with him instead. “And Hansi?”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli?” 

His golden eyes glittered in the sunlight as he looked, it seemed, straight through you. 

“Please do stay safe.” 

—-

“Wow, for a ‘slope’, this— this is really tall,” you joked feebly between rattling breaths. Was it just you, or was it getting a little harder to breathe? It seemed like you’d been climbing at an incline for hours.

Xiangling pulled to a sudden stop in front of you, almost tripping you over. You peered at her in silence inquisition, and after a moment of eyeing you carefully, she finally spoke. “Okay. Okay, you have to promise not to tell Mr. Zhongli about this.”

“About...?” You asked. 

The little chef chewed her lip for another few seconds before blurting, “there’s no Qingxin in Cuijie Slope. That’s not where we’re going.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re not at Cuijie Slope,” she said, words flowing faster than the waterfall you’d just passed. “My dad would’ve lost his mind if he found out, so I had to say that we were going to Cuijie.” She paused, eyeing your expression and grabbing your hand. “Please don’t be mad at me! It’s all mountains here so there’s gonna be SO much more Qingxin than the one or two we usually find and- and I’ve never even been here so just think of all the rare ingredients waiting to be found and—“

“Xiangling, where are we?” You asked, even though you already had a feeling you knew.

Xiangling sighed, before finally admitting: “Jueyun Karst.”

Immediately, you knew that you had to turn around and go home. Of the stories that Zhongli had told you, plenty were about Jueyun, the land of the mystical and illuminated Adepti. The concentrated mystical energy here attracted plenty of unfriendly creatures — and the Adepti themselves certainly didn’t sound to be the welcoming sort. 

But before you could squash it, another memory came to mind. The pure Cor Lapis that Zhongli treasured so much, the one from his dear friend— did he not say that it could only be found in Jueyun Karst?

Xiangling was still going on with no sign of slowing down. “—I know that some people say that it’s dangerous but I’ve heard the little girl from Bubu Pharmacy come here, so how dangerous can it really be? And besides, what’s an adventure without a little bit of excitement—?”

Yes, how dangerous could it be for two Vision-holders, if a child could come and go as she pleased? Surely you could dip in, find a few ingredients for Xiangling… perhaps a Cor Lapis or two for Zhongli and get home before night fell and the monsters came out? You could already imagine the smile on Zhongli’s face, the gentle thanks he would offer—

Xiangling finally paused to take a breath, still carefully eyeing your expression. “But of course, if you want to go home, I won’t stop you.“ 

“No, this is exciting,” you beamed, “let’s go.”

—-

As you walked along the paths of Mt. Hulao, the dread in your heart at disobeying Zhongli slowly waned. Never had Zhongli explicitly forbidden you from coming here — he’d only warned you against it. There was no contract to be broken. He would surely forgive you when no harm came to pass.

While Xiangling carefully bottled each Qingxin, sweet flower and mint petal she came across, you busied yourself with peering at every Cor Lapis vein along the rock path up. It seemed that the higher you went, the purer the Lapis got, and eventually, you managed to — with a lot of help from Xiangling and her polearm — crack open a chunk that shone so brilliantly translucent under the sun, you had to squint to look at it.

You could barely wait to see the look on Zhongli’s face. You carefully wrapped the prized Lapis in a handkerchief, then placed it in your pocket — you didn’t want to even risk it getting scratched by all the stuff in your bag. 

The sun had stained the horizon with the color of Zhongli’s eyes by the time you neared the peak of the mountain, yet Xiangling showed no signs of wanting to go home. A few times, you wondered if you should say something— yet when you swung around the steep path and emerged from the trees to an open sky full of monumental stone forests draped in wispy clouds, any lingering apprehension you might have had disappeared instantly. 

It especially helped that Xiangling, wielding her flames as proficiently as she did in the kitchen, made short work of chasing away any Hilichurlian creatures that came by. 

“That one looked a little different,” you pointed out as Xiangling sent another little gathering of hilichurls packing.

“Yup, I think that Xingqiu — he’s my friend, he knows everything — called it… a samachurl?” Xiangling offered. “They can use the elements, but they’re still Hilichurls. Nothing to worry about! Really, I don’t know why everyone made such a big fuss about this m—” 

In the next few seconds, time seemed to slow to a crawl. 

All you knew was heat, blinding and searing against your cheeks. The sky-shattering explosion that followed was the loudest thing you had heard in your life, and you could only watch as the plume of ravenous flame hit Xiangling squarely on her side. She crumpled to the ground with a small, broken sound, clutching at her shoulder. Through her fingers, you could see the raw red scarlet of blood.

A creature you had never seen before appeared before the two of you, hovering two feet above the ground. It was dressed in a fur-lined, crimson shawl. A black, bird-like mask hid all of its face but glowing, hollow orange eyes that flicked between you and Xiangling. After a few seconds, it laughed, an ugly noise that seemed to echo all around you. 

“And here I was, wo̝̕r̠r̻̠̲͔̮̟̥i̷̲̼e̺͠d̗̖̗̼̮,” it chittered,, waving its flaming staff around with glee. Occasionally, it lapsed into a language you did not know, but which sounded so ancient that it chilled your bones, “that the trespasser would b̶̮̼̹e̹̘͚̗ ̹̣t̯͔̪͇h҉̩̮̩̺̣̫e̞̦̞̣̫̪ ͖͈͔̦̰̱s͖̲̮̺̳is̥̺̬͙t̫͕e͎̘̜͚͕͞r͏̬̞̟͚͉͓ͅ of the Prince! But just two humans! One blessed by the Archon of Flame! And the other— the other reeks of the A̱͙̣̙̤̲̳r͎c̥̳͚̩͠h͏̙̮̙̗̭̣̬o̹̫̮̕n̰͔ ̼͜o͉͔̼̟f͇̞̦ ̮̩͕̻͟S̲͎̥t͔̼̼on̳ę̝̰̤̖̭̥!̣͚͕̜!”

Was the creature an adeptus? It could speak, and though much was gibberish that you didn’t understand, perhaps it could be reasoned with. “We’re terribly sorry for trespassing,” you tried to steel your shaking voice, “oh Mighty and Illuminated Adeptus. We’ll leave immediately. Please grant us a safe passage through the forest.”

“ A̭̱͍̮͘D̰͖͓̲̲Ȩ̙͚̺̻̞̻P͢TU̮̣̞͈̠S? ” It shrieked, a ring of fire forming around it in a sphere. “How dare you liken me to the servants of an Archon? I am an Abyss Mage! W̱̻̥̙̗͔͝e̳̘̺͎͔͎͓ are the Abyss Order! We will de̤̹͉͕͖̩s̙͎̦͖̩̯̰͘t͈͈͍͈r̵̪͍͚̫o҉y̜͙̭̙͞ ͍̥͙͢th̕e̙̮̘͕̬̤͎͘ ̡͇r̦͞ul̗̮͉̪̠͘e of the Archons, and bring about a new world!”

“What are you doing in the Adepti’s Abode, if you want to destroy the Archons?” It seemed to like hearing itself talk, and as long as it was talking, it was not hurting you. For the first time, you were mildly glad that your life prior to Zhongli taught you this. 

“I suppose there is no h̠͉͝a̝̱̖r͖m̥̞ ̷͇̖̩i̼͉̝͠n̪͚̬͢ͅ ͍̪̹͎̝͍͉te̦͍̤̤̳̼̕l͓̝̣̹̗͢ḻ͝i͓͉̹̹͜n̘͎͔͚̟̩g͓̩̰ ͕͙y̴̭ͅo̤̞̞̬̞ͅu̯̫̪̺̦͓̖, you’ll be d̻̪e̖̦a͓͘d̹͕ soon enough,” it laughed again. “There is an object of power here, enough to be a God’s! If we can get our hands on it—“

Beside you, Xiangling had shakily gotten back on her feet, the usual fire in her eyes dulled. She looked so suddenly small that your heart broke. You would get her out of here if it killed you. “Do you think you can walk?” You whispered to her, and you were infinitely relieved to see her nod slightly. “I’m going to distract it. Go run and get help.”

To your surprise, it was the easiest decision you’d made in your life. Xiangling was hurt, and she could not fight. To leave her here would be to leave her to die. And so, it had to be you. Your mind suddenly clear, you reached into your bag and brandished the dragon’s tooth at the Abyss Mage. 

“This is a tooth of Rex Lapis himself,” you shouted, your voice only breaking twice. “How’s that for a powerful object, huh!?”

“R̂̋͜e̒̿̏̅͛̊̓xͭ̿͊͊͜ ̓̄ͭ̐ͥ̕L̂͂aͮ͊̐p̷iͬͣs͆̍̿͐͊ͯ̉͏—? No, you can’t fool me! The object we came for was not of a God a̖͜s̤ ̧̖̜̜p̯o͡w̪̫̮͈͈̣̖e̫̩rf̣̖̼̗̻̮u͕͇̻̘̹͢l҉̖̝̫̥ ͚̲̞̮̱͍͢ą͓͈s̪͔̩̜̼̥̥̕ ͚ͅthe Geo Archon.” 

“So, wouldn’t something from the Geo Archon himself be even better, dumbass?” You were slowly finding a strange calm, taking slow steps away from Xiangling, putting the Abyss Mage in between her and yourself. “Won’t your Prince be mad if he knows you passed up something that used to be part of an Archon, to find a minor God’s artifact?” You were taking liberties here, and you hoped with every fiber of your being that the creature was stupid enough to take the bait.

“T͠h̕͜e͡ ̨P͝r͝i͘̕n͘c͘e̕…” it seemed to shudder, the flame in its eyes glowing anew. “Give the tooth to me!”

“Come and get it!” You shrieked at an octave reminiscent of the Mage itself, and with all your might, began sprinting away from Xiangling — further up the mountain. You did not turn around to make sure that Xiangling was able to escape, or even to make sure that the Abyss Mage was following you. You simply ran, and ran, and prayed.

—-

The first time you paused for breath, the muscles in your legs aching, the Mage materialized in front of you once more. How foolish of you to think that you could outrun something that wielded the arcane. 

“Give me the dr̷̕͢a̢go̸n̨'͏̧s ͝҉t͜o̶͘o͝ţ̕͝h͟,” it demanded. “You dare defy me, human ?”  There was nothing but disgust in its voice, and you knew at once: Mage or not, it was the same as every man, every bully, every noble who had ever tormented you. It expected you to run. It expected you to beg, and grovel, and cry. 

It did not expect you to run towards it, screaming words you had only heard uttered between sailors at the harbor. 

And certainly, it did not expect you to drive the tooth, with all your might, straight into the ring of fiery energy around it. Where the tooth met flame, red crystals erupted amidst a kaleidoscope of sparks, covering you in a warm crimson glow. The Abyss Mage screeched, a terrible sound, as the shield around it cracked — then shattered with a hot, explosive force that threw you to the ground. 

When you picked yourself up again, your veins so full of adrenaline that you could hardly stand, the Abyss Mage was sitting in a dazed, crumpled heap on the ground.

With the last of your strength, you whipped your bag — all four books and two day’s worth of clothes packed tight — against the Mage’s head with so much force that the bag’s contents burst out of its seams and spilled onto the ground. Without another word, the creature fell to the ground. 

You weren’t sure if it was dead. You didn’t want to find out. Leaving everything on the ground, you turned around, and for the second time that night, you ran — and you prayed.

—-

At night, Mt. Hulao was a completely different beast. The mountain was pitch dark, the only sources of light the pale moon — and the faintly glowing, large chunks of… amber? that lined the mountainside. Sometimes, when the moonlight lined up just right, you swore that you could make out vague shapes within them. More than a dozen times, you lost track of the trail, and had to carefully backtrack until you could make out the dirt path amidst the grass. 

Then, it began to rain. 

Your clothes were warm, but they were not waterproof. Even as you tried to walk under the shelter of trees, you could feel the water soaking right through the silk and cloth, the mountain wind chilling you to your core. If you didn’t get warm soon, you doubted that you would survive even a few more hours.

A hint of panic was slowly crawling its way up your throat, but you were determined not to let it past your lips. All that mattered in the world was: finding Xiangling, then finding your way back to the harbor. You’d take any punishment from Zhongli, any amount of lectures or— physical retribution, if it meant that you could see his face, feel the warmth of home, once again.

In your pocket, the chunk of Cor Lapis sat snug and safe. It was a small blessing.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you did not notice the vines under you begin to shift. 

That is, until suddenly, your feet stopped moving. You went down with a yelp that dissolved into a scream as you landed badly on your wrist. Immediately, you tried to scramble back to your feet, but they were firmly stuck to the ground and coated in a viscous orange liquid that looked a lot like the massive amber chunks around the mountain. 

The shapes inside them—

To your horror, you found that you couldn’t move the wrist you fell on. With your good hand, you desperately clawed at the liquid and only succeeded in spreading it everywhere, and as it clung to your clothes and hair, beginning to harden. 

Against your throat, your necklace seemed to tighten. 

“You dared to trespass on the Land of the Adepti,” a tremendous voice thundered around you. “ And now, you will pay the price”.

For a brief moment, it was hilarious. Of all the damned times you had begged them for help, for escape from your hunger and fear and life — of all times, now the Adepti chose to take notice of you? The panic trickled through, leaving your lungs in a hysterical little laugh. The liquid had crawled its way up your thighs, and you knew that there was no use begging for your life. The Adepti did not care.

And so, you begged for Xiangling instead. “My friend is still on the mountain. Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst.” The amber had reached your chest, hardening rapidly against the cold night air. There was no answer.

“Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst,” you repeated. The amber had reached your shoulders. 

“Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst.” Your neck. 

“Please—“ 

—-

A memory:

It had been about six days since you had that bout of nightmares, since Zhongli sat by your side as you slept.

The morning after, you’d woken up feeling strangely full and content. You could vividly remember your last dream: Zhongli, sitting amidst dust and sunlight. 

The only indication of the previous night’s occurrences had been the wooden chair sitting by your bed.

You’d joined Zhongli for breakfast that day, expecting him to comment on your nightmares, and braced yourself for the uncomfortable conversation. 

“If you ever need someone to speak to,” was all he’d said instead, his gorgeous eyes unreadable as always, “remember that I am here.” 

—-

What a silly thing to suddenly remember.

Zhongli— what would he think of your disappearance? Would he go looking for you in Cuijie Slope? How long until he marked you down as a simple waste of his Mora and moved on with his life? 

Even if Xiangling made it back safely and told him about where you were… You were certain that this was the one time Zhongli would not be coming to your aid. He knew the dangers of Jueyun Karst, and he was nothing if not careful. 

How odd, to be so achingly sad in your last moments, when you were so lucky — lucky enough to know Zhongli’s gentle warmth during your short life.

As the amber closed over your eyes, your last thoughts were of Zhongli’s hands in yours.

Chapter Text

The memories you had of the rest of the night were fragmented, incoherent — just a few rare flashes of consciousness.

—-

You did not know how long you were stuck within the amber, but you knew fear, and darkness, and suffocation; felt the energy draining right out of you into the crystal. Though you had briefly been resigned to your fate, the thought of Zhongli suddenly had you struggling with renewed vigor. 

You wanted to see him again. You wanted to live. 

—-

For as long as you could, you tried to stay conscious. You thought about Zhongli’s eyes, how they twinkled gold under any light. About how warm his hands had been, holding yours. His hearty laugh, and how it stole your breath away each time you managed to coax it out of him. The knowing smile he wore as he told you stories and corrected the ones you were reading. His voice, rich and deep; his lips around your name— 

The mercy he had shown you, where he had been well within his rights to be cruel. The way he had taught you of a life worth living. 

—-

There was a strange, cold heat between your collarbones. Perhaps, you wondered absently, the amber was reacting with the jade in your necklace. For a moment, it seemed like it would burn a hole right through your throat, but after a while, the heat subsided.

—-

Somewhere along the line, your thoughts shifted from a steady mantra of Zhongli Zhongli Zhongli to: Rex Lapis . 

Though you were sure that the former Archon received no lack of desperate prayers, even with his apparent death, you still prayed fervently, offering contracts that you’d find some way of fulfilling: you would bring Osmanthus Wine to his statues, you would learn to use your Vision, you would learn to fight and defend Liyue from monsters—

—-

Somewhere outside the pitch darkness of the amber, you heard a loud whoosh; and even through the sap, you could feel the familiar warmth of Geo. Of Zhongli’s Geo. 

Oh.

You could barely let yourself hope, even as a brilliant golden glow shone through the thick walls of your prison. Even as the amber cracked open with a deafening groan, slowly at first, then shattering into millions of fragments. 

—-

You found yourself on your knees, savoring the damp mud against your skin and the cold air deep in your lungs. Solid arms gathered you, gently bringing you to your feet. 

You threw out your hands and wrapped them tightly around your savior, despite the hideous pain in your wrist, deeply breathing in the scent you had long since begun to know as “home”. 

“You’re safe now,” Zhongli murmured, “I’m here.” 

—-

You blinked back the relief that welled up in your eyes, a sudden bout of exhaustion and pain rendering you limp in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, “I’m getting mud on your coat.”

Zhongli made a noise you had never heard him make before, sort of a laugh but not quite. “ Oh , Hansi ,” he shook his head. “My coat is the least of my worries. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I think my hand is broken.”

“Hmm.” Zhongli gently lifted your arm, examining your swelling wrist with composure that you didn’t think you would ever learn to possess.

Behind Zhongli, in the dim light, you noticed a small movement amidst the grass. Suddenly, you remembered where you were, the danger you were both in. “Watch out!” you cried, gripping his sleeve with your good hand and trying to run. Without his support, your legs immediately buckled, but Zhongli caught you before you hit the ground. “Zhongli, be careful, the Adepti— they’ll kill you—”

Zhongli exhaled lightly and to your bewilderment, showed not even the slightest hint of panic or fear on his face. With a gloved finger, he gently pushed the damp hair from your cheeks, then looked up at the mountain where you came, eyes sharp. Suddenly, you were no longer afraid. 

“ She is under my protection .” Zhongli’s voice was not loud, but even more than usual, it was resonant. Before you gave in to the heavy calm of sleep, you swore for a moment that you saw the amber ends of his hair glow the same warm hue of his eyes. “ Do keep your karst crawlers in check, Mountain Shaper .”

—-

The next time you slipped back into consciousness, you awoke to a rhythmic swaying. You blinked the sleep away from your heavy eyelids, peering up, and your heart skipped a beat. 

Zhongli was carrying you effortlessly, one of his hands under your knee and the other supporting your back. 

Your cheek was pressed firmly against his solid chest. Was it your imagination, or was his heartbeat… too slow, each resonant thump far too many seconds apart? 

It was freezing. The amber had kept you insulated, but now that you were out in the air again, your damp hair and clothes caught the bitter windchill and made you shiver. Zhongli paused in his steps.

“You’re cold,” he asked, and without waiting for a response, began shrugging off his coat. Your protests died on your lips when he gingerly draped you in it, carefully avoiding your broken wrist. The residual heat from his body offered a much welcome warmth. You inhaled deeply into the silk and hoped he did not notice.

Between the rocking of Zhongli’s footsteps, the gentle moonlight, and your newfound comfort, sleep found you quickly once more.

—-

You never thought that you’d see the woodlands outside Zhongli’s house again, yet the welcome and familiar sight greeted you the next time you opened your weary eyes. 

“Are you able to stand?” He asked. You hesitantly nodded, then crumpled immediately when he gently lowered you to the ground. 

“Actually,” you corrected, grabbing onto Zhongli to steady yourself, black spots on your vision like ink stains, “no.”

With furrowed brows, Zhongli deftly removed one of his gloves and pressed the back of his hand against your clammy forehead. “You have a fever,” he stated, “Go get changed—” The world lurched, the black spots growing bigger and Zhongli’s voice becoming distant. “Hansi? Hansi, stay awake—” 

—-

When you dredged yourself back into consciousness, you were inside the warmth of the house, sitting on the side of your bed. Zhongli was meticulously, slowly, peeling the wet silk off of your damp skin, and though you felt a brief surge of shame through your haze of torpor, there was no judgement in his gaze — only concern.

As he raised your arm to wrap a large coat around you, you realized that your wrist had been put into a splint, wrapped neatly in a small white towel. 

After Zhongli was finally satisfied with the layers upon layers of clothing he had piled upon you, he covered you with a thick blanket. You supposed that it was a cause for concern that despite everything, you were still cold, but for the moment, you were so comfortable and content that you did not mention it. 

Finally, Zhongli stepped back, and you noticed the empty space on your windowsill. Oh . “I’m so sorry,” you suddenly blurted, the horrible memory of what had happened that night suddenly rushing back. “I lost the dragon’s tooth. We were attacked by an Abyss Mage, and- and--” 

Zhongli’s thumb gingerly brushed over your lips, quieting you instantly. “As long as it protected you, it has served its purpose,” he said, as though you hadn’t just lost a priceless heirloom from his old friend. “What matters is that you are safe.” 

—-

You fell into fits of feverish sleep. 

The grotesque chittering of the Abyss Mage, the blood on Xiangling’s fingers, and the endless hungry darkness of the amber swirled about in your mind each time you closed your eyes. 

Several times, you found yourself waking up with Zhongli’s name on your lips, but each time, the chair by your bed remained empty. 

—-

You would not remember this, but: at some point of that night, you found yourself once more in the realm of cloud and dust of your dreams.

Relieved, you looked up in search of the familiar silhouette of Zhongli, to once more watch him in peace and quiet. 

Instead, you met golden, reptilian eyes, each the size of dinner plates.

A monstrous dragon was curled in a wide circle around you, the berth of which scaled larger than Zhongli’s house. Its scales were like terraced fields, each one shining its own spectrum of brilliant, iridescent gold. For a moment, you were enamored by how beautiful — how oddly familiar — the beast before you was. 

But mostly, you debated begging for your life.

Its mighty head was lowered just enough that you could see it was looking straight at you, and when it opened its mouth to speak, it revealed rows of huge, wickedly sharp fangs. They looked just like the tooth you had lost. You dropped to your knees, pressing your forehead to the ground, knowing now who stood before you. 

“She will not remember this dream ?”

The dragon’s mouth barely moved, but its deep, guttural voice seemed to shake the world itself. You raised your gaze slightly and saw, under the dragon’s head, a young man with dark hair and green-blue undertones. He was also staring at you intently, and unlike the dragon, there was disdain clear in his eyes.

“No, Rex Lapis,” he said, shortly. “Not when I’m done.” 

“How is she faring ?”

“I can’t tell until I consume it,” the young man shook his head, and vaguely, you realized they were talking about you. “But the dream is stable, and so it seems, is her mind. Rest assured that Jueyun Karst has not broken her like it does so many other mortals.” 

Rex Lapis’ body, all scales and sinew, seemed to visibly relax.

“I must apologize for placing this task upon you. But it is imperative she does not remember this when she wakes up. I fear that she is not yet ready for the truth.”

The young man exhaled in quiet resignation. “You gave me my name, and you released me from an endless darkness,” he said, and with a deft wave of his hand, donned a beastly fanged mask over his face. “At your request, I would lay down my life a thousand times over, Rex Lapis.”

“Thank you, Xiao . Do proceed.”

The dragon cast one last lidded glance at you, dipping its head as if to leave. You don’t know where within your lungs you find it in you to whisper: “ wait .”

To your absolute astonishment, Rex Lapis did, once more turning to look at you expectantly. 

Rex Lapis. Giving you the time of his day. You hadn’t cried in a very, very long time, but you thought that you might just start right then and there.

“Speak, mortal,” the young man — had Rex Lapis called him Xiao? — snapped, crossing his arms. “Don’t waste his time.” The curtness stung, but it helped snap the fuzzy panic right out of your head. 

“Your majesty,” you bowed low once more. Was that how you were meant to address an Archon? You certainly didn’t know! “Wh— why did you give me a Vision? Was it a mistake? Do you— do you want it back?” 

The words felt as stupid coming out of your mouth as they did in floating around in your head. 

You heard Xiao snort incredulously, but Rex Lapis stared at you for a moment, unblinking and as still as a rock. You had begun to wonder if “begging for your life” was still on the table, when the dragon’s massive head shook gently from side to side. 

“A mistake? ” Even in his deafening timbre, you could hear incredulity. The clouds, the dust, the ground beneath your feet seemed to sway. “ Is that why you have not told...?”

There was a brief pause. 

“My dearest Hansi, nothing I have done for you is a mistake.”

If you weren’t already on your knees, hearing your name rumbled from between his fangs would have brought you to them. It was not the first time , you realized, something deep within you rearing its head. It was not the first time you had heard that guttural voice utter your name. 

“Rex Lapis, if I may be so bold as to ask,” Xiao asked, “just what is this mortal to you?”

It was not the first time you had met Xiao, either.

“She is under my protection” , the dragon responded shortly. “ As I once was under hers.”

Under his… protection?

All at once, you realized whom the dragon’s golden, iridescent gaze reminded you of. Your lips formed around his name, just as Xiao stepped forward and raised one clawed hand.

—- 

You woke up to the soft morning light, your head once more feeling like it had been stuffed full of cotton. Though you didn’t know how it was possible, you felt hot and cold at the same time. 

Wondering how many days had passed, you sat up slowly, but even that small motion made you retch. 

You’d had a dream. You didn’t remember what it was, but it was vitally important— that much you knew. Thinking about it too much made your head hurt. Giving up for the moment, you reached out for where your cup usually was; yet your fingers wrapped around something smooth and cold. 

On your bedside table, next to a cup of steaming tea, sat the dragon’s tooth — the only indication that it had ever left the house: a charred ring where it had met the Abyss Mage’s fiery shield. 

Chapter Text

For a minute or so, you stared at the dragon’s tooth. Reached out to touch it, every scratch and indentation on its smooth surface exactly the same as you remembered. You ran your finger around the blackened, charred ring around it, remembering how you had plunged the tooth into the blazing shield of fire, how the Abyss Mage had screamed. 

You winced at the memory of the past… day? Two days? You weren’t sure how long you had slept, and each time you tried to call upon any memories, your head hurt terribly. 

“Zhongli,” you barely managed to whisper.

As though he had been waiting just outside your room, the door swung open almost immediately. Zhongli strode in, though the relief you felt at his presence was quickly overshadowed by the fear of what you’d done, of how he might punish you for it. “Hansi,” he said, voice carefully composed as always, but you had known him just long enough to pick out a slightly different note of— worry? “You slept for two days.”

“Oh no, I missed work,” you deadpanned, desperate to dredge even the smallest of smiles from Zhongli. Zhongli’s frown didn’t even quaver. The very idea of Zhongli being annoyed at you sent chills down your spine. Just then, a memory came back to you, and suddenly, you were desperate for something else. “OH— work… Xiangling—!” You tried to throw back the covers to stand up, but the sudden movement sent hot and cold chills through your veins and almost sent you retching over the side of the bed.

“When you mentioned Qingxin,” Zhongli said. “I knew at once that she wasn’t bringing you to Cuijie. That girl knows the flora and fauna of Liyue almost better than I.” You remembered his slight unease the morning you left, that odd exchange that you thought nothing more of. 

Of course, Zhongli would have known the whole time; how foolish of you to think you could keep anything from his calculating gaze. 

“But what reason would she have had to lie?” Zhongli continued, “and so, though I did not want to intrude upon your expedition, I paid Jueyun Karst a visit with Chef Mao when you two did not return. We found her halfway up the mountain.” 

“Is she— is she okay now?” You could barely bear to hear the answer, “I need to go and see her.” 

“I don’t believe you’ll be able to go anywhere in your current state,” These were stronger words than you’d ever heard Zhongli utter at you, and it finally snapped you out of your haze of panic. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you noticed his stiff posture, his slightly furrowed brow, and felt a pang of guilt. You had acknowledged that he might worry over your disappearance, but not to such a degree. 

“If it puts you at ease,” Zhongli started, “I visited Xiangling this morning. Dr. Baizhu personally saw to her, and she is well on her way to recovery. She was similarly distraught about you, and she mentioned that you tried to hold off the monster on your own for her sake. Is this true?”

You nodded. 

“Admirable,” Zhongli said, and you noted that his voice had not lost its edge, “if not extremely rash. You could not have known what a powerful artifact the tooth was, though it is partly my fault for not explaining it to you. If I had not shown up when I did—”  

You blurted the first thing you were sure of. “I’m sorry for putting you in danger.”

Zhongli let out an audible breath, and shook his head. When he next spoke, his voice was tinged in disbelief. “To think that after everything, that’s your takeaway from this? What you and Xiangling did was incredibly dangerous. I believe that I’ve made more than clear to you, how dangerous Jueyun Karst is to mortals.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, the guilt rearing its head in the pits of your stomach.. 

Sighing softly, Zhongli held your gaze. “Though, I also miscalculated. Xiangling would have been able to handle no less than a Mitachurl; perhaps even a Lawachurl, but these intelligent creatures — Abyss Mages? It’s quite troubling that they’ve begun to appear in Liyue, so soon after Rex Lapis’ departure.” 

“Did you kill it?” You couldn’t help but ask, though you already knew the answer.

Zhongli fixed his unflinching gaze on you. “Yes.” 

You had already held the evidence of its death in your hands — there was no way the creature had given up the dragon’s tooth without a fight — but still, the truth was like a slap to the face. You had scarcely been able to escape from it with your life, and yet Zhongli... You glanced him up and down. Zhongli didn’t look so much as shaken from the confrontation.

“It was a hazard to Liyue. And it had threatened you,” he added, taking your awe for confusion. “Similar monsters have been growing in rank and number… Even the Adepti are on high guard, it seems, if Mountain— if one of them has started trapping civilians. Though Xiangling can fight, I’m afraid that the situation may be too much for you to handle right now. I would ask that you limit your ventures to Liyue Harbor—” 

You couldn’t stand the heavy tension of the room, couldn’t bear the thought that Zhongli might be angry at you. He had made no move to approach you, standing his usual, respectable distance away from your bedside, but anger— anger always meant someone got hurt, and usually, it was you. 

Quickly, you opened your mouth to swear that yes, yes of course, anything you want, I’ll never leave again, but Zhongli held up his hand to stop you. “Think carefully before making any promises to me. Are you content with staying within the harbor for the rest of your life, Hansi?” 

You hesitated. He was right. Going on ingredient hunts and seeing the beautiful mountains of Liyue had been the time of your life. You wanted to go further, wider. To see every bit that the world had to offer. And more than anything, you wanted to do it— with Zhongli. 

“I will ask you one last time, then,” Zhongli said, “ do you wish to learn how to fight ?” 

You couldn’t help but glance at the drawer where your Vision was, quickly dragging your gaze back to him and hoping he had not noticed. You swallowed. Yes, yes , you did. And what better teacher for your Geo Vision than Zhongli? 

He had just saved your life. The least you could do was trust him with it. 

Before you could respond, you were interrupted by a loud rapping at the front door.

“Just a moment, please,” Zhongli called in response. When he turned back, his expression had softened. “I… may have been too harsh. I hope you can understand that my words are borne only from concern for your well-being. How are you feeling?”

Like you had just been hit over the head with a large wooden pole, but the last thing you wanted to do was worry Zhongli more. “A lot better than two nights ago,” you smiled, hoping  to ease his concern, but it came out a little more like a grimace.

“I see. You had quite a fever last night, so I requested a home visit from Bubu Pharmacy. It looks like they’re finally here. Please wait a moment.” It seemed as though Zhongli was back to his usual self, sweeping out of the room in all his regal valor. You heard him open the front door and greet whomever was there. A doctor? You grimaced at the thought of some strange man touching your body. But for Zhongli’s peace of mind, you would endure. 

Finally, Zhongli returned. You looked around for the doctor— then down. A young girl, whose brow reached around Zhongli’s knees, wobbled in, holding a basket that seemed to weigh more than herself. Under her little hat was tucked a paper talisman; the kind you’d find plastered on the dead. 

“Hello. Qiqi is a zombie,” she said by way of introduction. “Nice to meet you.”

—-

You stared at her, then Zhongli, wondering why he had just let a literal child wander into his house. 

At the bewilderment on your face, Zhongli stepped in to explain. “Qiqi is from Bubu Pharmacy. She is indeed a zombie, though her story is perhaps one better told another time. Rest assured that she is more than qualified to treat any mortal illness. Qiqi, this is whom I was telling you about. I believe she might have a fever—” 

“This room is cold,” Qiqi murmured, siddling closer to your bedside. She dug around in her basket and produced a waterskin. “Good for Qiqi, not good for a fever. Please close the window and fill this with hot water.” 

“Of course,” Zhongli nodded, rushing to comply. After he left, Qiqi merely continued like she had not just ordered Zhongli around in his own house. The way she peered at you was so intent that it made you squirm, and each time she put her hand against your skin, it was so cold that you could barely resist, out of politeness, the urge to jump.

“How did you get sick.” Qiqi asked. For a moment, her voice was so monotone that you hadn’t realized it was a question. You scrambled to answer, cheeks flushing warm. 

“I was… climbing a tall mountain and got caught in the rain.” 

“Hmm,” she said, “not good. Bring an umbrella next time.”

“I will,” you promised quickly, watching as she produced a large wad of paper from her basket — how many things did she have in there? — and began scribbling, just as Zhongli returned with a filled waterskin and a glass of warm water. The warmth of the glass against your skin was heavenly, and you quietly sipped the drink while waiting for Qiqi to finish her writing. 

“Mr. Zhongli,” she said, tugging at his sleeve for his attention. Zhongli all but bent down to meet her at eye level. “Mr. Zhongli’s wife will be okay.”

It was all you could do to keep the water inside your mouth when you choked. 

“Hansi is my friend,” Zhongli corrected, gently.

Qiqi peered up at Zhongli, then at you — wrapped in what were clearly three layers of his clothing — then back at Zhongli. “Mr. Zhongli’s friend will be okay,” she amended, rifling so furiously through her papers that you were worried she would tear the pages. “She must rest for...three days. And eat wet things.” The girl squinted more closely at her notebook. “Hm. No. I meant, drink more fluids,” she amended, going right back to her scribbling. You peeked at it, but couldn’t understand a word she had written — was she drawing a flower? 

Finally, she ripped the page off with surprising gusto and handed it to Zhongli, who had to once again bend down to reach her little hands. “Here is a prescription for huang’lian medicine. For the fever.” The little girl said, thumbing through her pages. “I can also prescribe Windwheel Aster syrup. But Windwheel Asters can only be found in… Mondstadt... It can cost a lot.”

“How much?”

Qiqi went completely still as she thought about it. It was a little unnerving. At last, she reached a conclusion. “One million mora.” 

To your horror, Zhongli nodded. “That is acceptable,” he said. “Please give us three bottles.” You didn’t even know what to begin to say to that — you knew already that he was hopeless when it came to haggling, but three million mora was an unthinkable amount. And more ridiculously, spent on someone like you? Before you could protest, Qiqi shook her head. 

“No. I will not charge Mr. Zhongli so much. Three thousand mora will be fine.”

“Won’t you get into trouble with Dr. Baizhu, my dear Qiqi?” Zhongli asked.

“Hm. I don’t care what Baizhu says,” Qiqi frowned, “Mr. Zhongli has helped me many times.”

“Well then, I will accept your offer of generosity. On behalf of Wangsheng Funeral’s accountants, thank you, Qiqi.”

“I will also prescribe... gu’fen . It will help her wrist recover faster... Oh, no.” Qiqi sighed so heavily her little body shook. “Never mind. We are out of bones.”

“ Gu’fen - powdered bones?” Zhongli asked. “What kind do you need?” 

“Geovishap will work best, although hatchlings will also be okay.”

“Very well,” Zhongli said, heading for the door without a moment’s hesitation. “Please give me a few minutes.” 

“Two will be enough,” Qiqi called after him, barely lifting her gaze from her notebook. 

You heard the front door open and shut. “Did he—” you glanced at Qiqi, then out the window, where the unmistakable silhouette of Zhongli was striding off towards the mountains north of the harbor. You knew what Geovishaps were, Zhongli had told you of their story: descendants of the King of Dragons that had long been sealed beneath the earth by Rex Lapis. “Did Mr. Zhongli just leave to go hunt vishap bones? Is he safe?” 

“Yes. He is strong,” Qiqi stated matter-of-factly. “Mr. Zhongli could not fulfill his contract… for Cocomilk… So Mr. Zhongli helps when Qiqi gather herbs... in Jueyun Karst.”

Cocomilk? Zhongli had… fudged a contract? You wanted to ask her to elaborate, but another tidbit of information caught your attention. It was undeniable, then, that Zhongli could come and go safely within Jueyun Karst. You shuddered as you remembered how overwhelmingly powerful the Adepti had been. How could Zhongli willingly set foot in there, and how can he do so unharmed? A distant memory arose, something about him… karst crawlers… protection? 

Qiqi was tapping on your leg for attention, so you quickly shook yourself free of your ponderings. You could revisit them later. “Sorry. Yes, Qiqi?”

“I  asked,” Qiqi said, “do you need contraceptive medicine? I can prescribe...” 

“ What ?”

“Please do not be alarmed,” Qiqi said calmly, severely misunderstanding your almost-scream. “This is part of life. As a pharmacist of Bubu Pharmacy, I am able to prescribe—” 

“No,” you said quickly, very quickly, “No, we really are just friends.” The word tasted sweet on your tongue. Friend — Zhongli’s friend. 

“Hm, okay,” Qiqi responded, blinking upwards at you with clear magenta eyes, and though there was no inflection in her tone, you could almost hear the incredulity. “Where did you get these injuries?”

You debated lying, but she was looking up at you with such seriousness that you couldn’t find it in yourself to. “Mount Hulao,” you admit with a hint of remorse. “I went there with a friend… we both got badly hurt. It was a bad idea. I don’t remember much, other than that.”

“Baizhu was called to treat Miss Xiangling yesterday. She was your friend?” Qiqi thoughtfully waited for you to nod. “You were… also sealed in the amber? It can cause memory loss. Sweetflower tea will help... with the headaches.” 

You wanted to ask how she knew about the headaches, how she knew about the amber, but the look in her eyes was answer enough. For the adepti to harm such a small child— in the pits of your stomach, you felt such a hot surge of anger that you surprised yourself. Qiqi’s small hands rested on yours, her big, earnest eyes staring right into you. 

“Hmm,” she repeated, “not good. Bring Mr. Zhongli next time.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I will,” you promised once more, jokingly. “Though I’m not sure how I’ll fit all that muscle into my backpack—” You trailed off at the inquisitive look on Qiqi’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just friends,” she commented shortly.

“We are just friends!” you cried, stopping yourself quickly as you heard the front door swing open. A few minutes, just as Zhongli had promised. And slung over his back was a sizable sack, bulging with what you knew were dozens of bones. 

“Two was enough,” Qiqi murmured as Zhongli placed the sack before her. There was no way the girl was lugging that back to the pharmacy , you thought, just as Qiqi carefully lifted it with one hand. By the Archons, what were they feeding the pharmacists at Bubu?

“I thought it would be best to err on the safe side,” Zhongli replied, “please do put any leftovers to good use at the pharmacy. And also,” he said, pulling out a vibrant strand of violetgrass from his coat, “this is for you, my dear Qiqi.” 

Qiqi’s expression did not waver, but you thought that she looked just a little pleased as Zhongli tucked the flowers into her hat. 

“Okay.” Qiqi said, handing Zhongli the last pieces of paper from her notebook. “Please come and collect your prescriptions tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Qiqi,” Zhongli answered, helping to hold the door open as the girl wobbled her way back out as unsteadily as when she came. “Have a good evening.” When he returned to stand by your bedside, you carefully eyed him. There was a smear of dirt on his left sleeve, but otherwise, it looked like he had just returned from a walk at the harbor — not from battle.

“Are you hurt, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked. 

“Hmm?” He blinked, then absently said, “ah. The Geovishaps? Not at all. They are quite easy to combat, once you learn of their weaknesses.” You wondered how many he’d fought; how many things he had killed in his life, that fighting ferocious monsters was barely an ordeal of note for him.

More importantly, he had done it for you. Had been willing to pay three million Mora for your well-being. You found yourself blinking back tears once again; you would not let anyone see you cry.

“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli.” You said, and you hoped that he would understand all that you meant by it.

“Of course, Hansi. Though, before I forget, I do have a question,” he said, reaching into his coat and producing a chunk of Cor Lapis, “when I found you at Mount Hulao, you were gripping this like your life depended on it. Is this what you went there for? Why?”

Oh. The flush in your cheeks burned red hot, and you scrambled for a lie — any lie. Nothing came to mind. Finally, under his scrutinizing gaze, you withered and told him the foolish truth with slumped shoulders: “it was meant to be a gift for you, Mr. Zhongli. It’s probably… it’s probably nothing compared to the one from your friend.” You could barely lift your head to look him in the eye, and you were vaguely aware that you had begun to ramble. “But it’s the only one I could find. I ended up causing you more trouble in the end, I’m sorry.” 

“Goodness,” Zhongli said, his voice thick with emotion for the first time that you’d heard. You glanced at him in surprise, but his face betrayed nothing as always. 

Zhongli held the Cor Lapis up to the light, looking at it carefully. After a terribly long pause, his gaze fell back on you. “This is one of the clearest, most luminous pieces of Lapis I’ve seen in my life. Thank you for going to such lengths to get me this, Hansi.” 

Your relief at his lack of anger and your pride at his praise was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the way your heart fluttered warmly at the bright smile on his face. 

“Though of course, I would have appreciated such a precious gift regardless.” Zhongli continued, walking to the door. “Now, I must ask that you rest for a little while, as per Qiqi’s orders. Will you be alright alone? Please call my name if you need anything at all—”

You were only half-listening. It wasn’t fair, how his smile could wrench the air right out of your lungs.

—-

A memory:

“There it is again, that infamous frown,” the young woman waved her hands, her billowing sleeves whipping about in the howling gales of Qingyun Peak. “Why do you never smile, Morax?” 

“What is there to smile about?” he asked truthfully, because he had long since stopped trying to decipher her odd mannerisms. Below them, underneath the clouds, the war raged on.

“What is there to—?” She exhaled in exaggerated exasperation, throwing her arms out to the wind. “The birds in the trees! The clouds in the sky! It didn’t rain today for the first time in weeks, so we made it all the way up here to watch the sunset! Do none of these things mean anything to you?”

“Yet when night falls, we will once again have to fight.” His fingers twitched around empty space, every moment he wasn’t holding his polearm — at her request — almost painful. He detested being in this form, but it was cold in the mountains, and his adepti form would do little to help him with temperature regulation. “We should return soon. I hear that Osial has been rallying his forces for another attack, and we were barely able to fend off the last one.”

She sighed, and he knew that meant he had disappointed her — though he did not know how. 

“Morax,” she breathed, barely audible over the wind. “What will it take to make you smile? Tell me, and I’ll do it. A contract. That’s the only kind of thing you understand, right?”

That, he did. “When the war is over,” he answered. She was leaning precariously over the edge of the cliff, and it brought about some strange, foreign feeling deep in his gut — something different to the wounds and scars he was used to. “And our people are safe from the threat of strife and war.” 

A brief pause. She showed no sign of getting down from where she was standing, and in fact, had gotten on her tiptoes. “You might fall,” he warned. 

“You promise? You promise that once the war is over, you’ll try to smile more?” 

“You have my word,” he swore. He did not understand her intentions even a little, but promises? Those he knew better than life itself. Something so trivial as a smile seemed scarcely worthy of a contract. But it seemed important to her, and so he would honor it. “You should step away from the edge. You might fall,” he repeated.

“Oh, but you’ll catch me, won’t you?” Her pale hair whipped about in the wind, framing a wide, bright grin. There was a twinkle in her eye that he, unfortunately, knew all too well.

“Guizhong, don’t—“ he said, rushing forward, but it was too late. She tipped backwards, disappearing into the clouds below, just as his arms closed around empty wind. Muttering a series of ancient curses he thanked the heavens that Ganyu wasn’t here to hear, he leapt after her. 

The transformation always hurt a little, though after meeting Guizhong (and her incomprehensible insistence that he stay in human form when in front of human children) he changed forms so often that he barely even noticed anymore. He relished the sting as lithic claws, scales and fangs tore their way out of his deplorably soft human flesh— and then, he was free to rip through the clouds and wind. Frightening and powerful, as he should be. 

As he had to be.

It was not hard to locate Guizhong, especially not with the way she’d gleefully screamed all the way down. He angled himself right under her, bracing for the impact, and she landed squarely on his back with an exhilarated squeak. 

“Wasn’t that fun, Morax?” She clambered up towards his head as they tore through the skies. He could feel each of her warm fingers gripping his horns tightly. “No? Still no smile?” 

“What?” He growled. “You could have died.”

“You wouldn’t have let that happen,” she waved it off, “though you did let me hit a few more trees than necessary on the way down, didn’t you?”

He didn’t dignify that with an answer. 

“Fine,” he could hear the pout in her voice. “When the war ends, I want to see a huuuuge smile from you, alright?”

“I already gave you my word.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Well, that is, if I’m there to see it,” she laughed lightly. “Not everyone is as big and strong and scary as you, Morax.”

There it was again, that feeling — a dull blade that pressed deep into his lungs, his stomach, his heart. Fear? No. The God of War and Contracts did not know fear. 

“Of course you will. We will both be there to see this to its end.” 

—-

At the end of the war, when he finally felt the searing power of the divine settle within him, Morax stood alone. 

Mountains of bodies, bones picked clean by birds and sinew laid to claim by beasts, surrounded him for as far as the eye could see. 

Guizhong was not among them, for she had been killed years and years ago.

He felt his lip curl into — something. It fell a little short of a smile.

—-

Outside of your room, Zhongli leaned his head against the cool wood of the doorframe, and steadied his breathing. Carefully, he placed back into his coat the Cor Lapis that you had gotten him; that you had almost died trying to get him.

How ironic, that even after exactly three thousand, seven hundred and twelve years, two months and eighteen days, he still found himself scrambling to protect someone who seemed to lack all sense of self preservation, and who surprised him to no end. 

Guizhong had not been strong enough to fend off those who sought to claim her life, but you could be — if only you’d show him what you were hiding in the drawers by your bed. He could feel its resonance, each time he entered your room — the Vision he had given you; a reminder of the strength that you could use, to fight back, to protect yourself. 

Guizhong had not been strong enough.

A breath in, a breath out. Zhongli closed his eyes.

He would not make the same mistake again. 

Chapter Text

“Mr. Zhongli,” you cried, “wait, that’s too big, please, ah—!” 

Your exclamation was buried as he meticulously set down yet another massive blanket upon you. It was so heavy that it knocked the breath right out of your lungs. Were these filled with feathers, or rocks?

“Qiqi’s instructions were to keep you warm,” Zhongli said, cocking his head to the side. “We can’t have your condition getting any worse.” 

“I’m boiling !“ You quickly continued as you saw him open his mouth in retort, “Not. Literally. But I’m warm enough, Mr. Zhongli, please believe me.” 

“Hm,” he considered this shortly, then nodded. “Very well, though if you begin to feel any worse, do tell me immediately.”

“Yes, of course—” 

“And if you need anything at all, you must also let me know.”

You glanced over the side of your bed. Your bedside drawers, the chair by your bed, even the extra table that Zhongli had had to bring in — they were piled full of various items: extra pillows, three more blankets, a bowl of hot soup stewed for two hours fresh from the pot, six hot water bottles of varying temperatures, two mugs of ginger water, a pile of neatly-folded clothing of different intricacies, various remedies from Bubu pharmacy that he’d urged you to try one by one… 

Then, more bizarrely, a vase full of plants you did not recognize, three large iridescent crystals that pulsed their golden glow at varied speeds, a small bag of… Mora?? And was that a charm made of bones and scales that he had hung over your window? 

You were beginning to wonder if he had ever been sick before in his life, let alone taken care of someone who was. 

“It’s just a regular cold,” you assured him. “I basically already feel fine.”

“And your wrist—“

“Already feeling better.” Whatever Qiqi had done to heal you, it had worked wonders; though your wrist was still a little stiff to move... Zhongli didn’t need to know that. “Whatever that bone medicine stuff was that Qiqi gave you, it was magical.”

“And your fever—“

“My body will heal on its own. Like any normal human person’s.” 

“Well, certainly,” Zhongli furrowed his brow, and though he slowly took back the blanket that you had rejected, you could tell he had no intention of backing down. “But it would not hurt to take the necessary precautions. Would you like another hot water bottle? The first is getting rather cold, it has been an hour since I filled it—” 

“Mr Zhongli,” you said, trying to choose your words as politely as possible, “you have been sick before, right?” 

He stopped in his slow folding of the blanket, closing his eyes for a few seconds as though actually pondering the question. “I have been injured,” he finally offered, before returning to his folding endeavors. 

“Okay. So when you got injured,” you swallowed the burning question of “ how ”, briefly remembering the angry scars that curled around his torso like dragons. “Your body healed, on its own, right?” 

It was a poor analogy, you realized — his wounds had almost certainly needed stitches, and even then it was a wonder that they hadn’t killed him. But to your surprise, he considered your argument. 

“My body is not…” He sighed gently, “well, you do have a point. Are you certain that there is nothing else bothering you?” 

A dull jolt of pain crackled through your skull, as it always did when you tried to remember the night that Zhongli had carried you home. “Er, actually, yes,” you said, even though you immediately felt silly for asking him this. “I… feel like there’s something important I’m forgetting. A dream, or something. My head feels like it’s splitting apart when I try to remember. Have you ever heard of the Adepti doing that to people?” 

Yeah, definitely silly. What was he supposed to do about a dream that you couldn’t even remember? 

“Hmm,” Zhongli, thankfully, seemed to take you seriously. “Mountain— The Adepti of Mt. Hulao uses a unique plant called Karst Crawlers to secrete liquid amber that rapidly solidifies when exposed to air. The adepti seem to be on high alert, with the recent and sudden activity of the Abyss Order, though that is no excuse for them to carelessly attack as they did.” 

He stopped, seeming to catch himself digressing. “At any rate, the Karst Crawler amber can be known to cause amnesia, among other ailments, in humans. It was most fortunate that you were not exposed to it too long, but… some form of memory loss would not be surprising.” 

Ah, well. You had gathered as much from what little Qiqi had told you. It was an odd feeling, to be missing a few hours of your life; but you were fortunate to have kept it at all, so you would count your lucky stars and move on. 

“How do you know so much about the Adepti, Mr. Zhongli?” You sipped at one of your cups, trying to sound as casual as you could, and to keep the bright curiosity out of your voice.

“I have a good memory,” was his answer, the same one he gave each of your previous, similar questions “ —about the Archon War ”, “ —about the Goddess of Dust ”, “ —about the Yakshas”... Though he usually took a moment to ponder even the most mundane of questions, these ones he always answered without hesitation. 

You’d always taken it to mean that he had read it in a book, heard it in passing at a play, something of the sort. But it would be willful ignorance, at this point, to ignore all the oddities that were beginning to piece together like a puzzle. Much as Rex Lapis had descended on occasion to mingle incognito among the mortal masses, there were rumors of his Adepti doing the same, living among the humans. 

Zhongli’s vast knowledge of Adeptal matters — could it be that he was one of—? 

“Hansi?” he prompted, and you realized that he had been talking to you this entire time. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Let me fetch you a new cup of tea. That one has been sitting out for a few hours now.” He extended one gloved hand for your cup, and you obliged. “I will be back in a moment.” 

Though watching Zhongli leave always sent a tiny jolt of cold panic through your veins, this time, you welcomed the brief respite to gather your thoughts. 

There was a lot about Zhongli that did not add up together perfectly. His aforementioned knowledge of the Adepti being one — really, his knowledge of everything . Not to mention his odd connections with the Fatui, with the Hu family of Wangsheng, his standing within and understanding of the city— He spoke and acted with the stature of a nobleman raised and born in the wealthiest of families, yet he seemed to be able to fight like a Millelith general.

Yet the more you thought about it, the more each of these phenomena could be explained away with much more reasonable terms, you decided, than something so far-fetched as his being one of Rex Lapis’ Adepti. His vast knowledge of history, well, you’d seen his library. Give it twenty, thirty years (how old could he be?) and you’d know plenty too if you read them all. As for his prowess in battle and his connections; perhaps he had been an officer in the Millelith. You could remember a few particularly devastating monster attacks against the city during your lifetime; it was likely that he got caught up in one of them, and his friend— well.

But still, here was what you could not understand: you couldn’t remember very much of the night he rescued you, but Qiqi’s words had all but confirmed that he could come and go through Jueyun Karst untouched...

The sound of the door opening cut through your thoughts and made you jump. Zhongli returned with your tea, this time upon a small saucer, and set it down by your bed. 

“Do excuse me for taking so long,” he said, “I had to wait for the second brew to steep; I know that you find the first too bitter.”

Oh .

You stared down intently, surprised at the warm prickle in your eyes. Trying to focus on the loose tea leaves swaying at the bottom of the cup, you blinked back the traitorous tears. There was something about Zhongli’s small gesture that shook you to your core. You had mentioned the bitterness of the tea only once in passing, a few days ago; had barely thought anything of it. 

Yet Zhongli remembered. Your qualms of him sincerely caring about your wellbeing — about your presence, about you — dissipated just a little more.

“Now then, I’ll leave you to rest, if you are sure you will be alright... Hansi?” 

“Uh,” you said, dragging your sleeve across your eyes as nonchalantly as you could, “yes.” 

“ Are you alright?” He pressed.

It was far too often that you found yourself scrabbling for a change in topic when you were around Zhongli — you really needed to start writing some down as backup. Absentmindedly, you tried for the safest one you could think of: “do you think you could please bring me a book or two, Zhongli?” 

A pause.

“ Mr !” You amended, flustered, “I meant, Mr . Zhongli!” Fiery heat rushing from your neck to your temples, you stumbled to correct yourself. Slowly, without your notice, Zhongli’s image in your mind had shifted —from inciting panic, to blooming warmth; from a warden, to a friend… or was there something more? But that didn’t mean that you could start addressing him as such! The panicked apology was just emerging from your throat when Zhongli held out an upturned palm. 

“How,” he asked, “do you expect to hold a book with your wrist in a cast?” 

He wasn’t offended at your slip-up with his name, barely even acknowledged it save for a briefly raised brow, but were you really surprised? Had you really expected him to do anything? You had stopped fearing him, and you couldn’t even find it in you to chide yourself for it. 

“Right. Sorry. Never, uh, never mind then,” you mumbled, realizing that it was no longer up for debate, not even in your jumbled mess of thoughts, that Zhongli was a good person — that he would not demand anything of you that you could not give, that he had never and would never hurt you for these small mistakes.

For now, the bright bite of shame at your mistake put your musings of his identity to rest. You’d grown more comfortable in this home than you would have ever thought possible, certainly, but surely your ego had not become so swollen as to believe that an Adeptus who fought alongside Rex Lapis would give you the time of day, let alone remember your tea preferences and nurse you back to health so gently?

No, Zhongli had to be human —a terrifyingly good man — but only a man all the same. 

So, tell him.

Why, then, was it so impossible for you to lift your hand and point to the drawer where your Vision sat? Why could you not offer Zhongli the courtesy of truth that he’d done nothing but show you, since your arrival? 

Tell him!

Zhongli silently watched you crumple into yourself, almost trembling with the effort of opening your mouth to let the truth spill out. Finally, he spoke. “Regarding the matter of books. Our contract, which you have kept well, dictates that I provide you with the means to my library,” he said slowly. “As such, if you should so choose, and until you are well enough to do so on your own again, I could read to you.” 

Your head snapped up, but even before that, the eager “ yes !” had already left your lips.

“Oh!” You backtracked, starting to wish that Zhongli had left you on that mountain after all. You wanted so badly to hear him read to you — by the Archons, you could barely get enough of just hearing his rumbling comments on the books you’d read — but… “I mean. I couldn’t possibly trouble you so much, Mr. Zhongli.” 

“You speak as though reading to you is a punishment,” Zhongli responded, “rather than the pleasure it would be. Now, what kind of story would you like me to go and get?”

It was a wonder that your poor heart had not beat itself out of your chest. 

Zhongli carried on, oblivious as ever to the way bright pink heat had stained your cheeks. “Though my collection spans mostly Liyue literature, I also have a fair few from other nations. For instance, the tale of Mondstadt’s Liontooth Knight is quite an interesting one...” 

You could read a cookbook to me and I’d probably die , you thought. 

“Well, you know me,” you tried to keep your voice joking and jovial, and you were proud to hear that it did not waver. “If it’s got Rex Lapis in it, it’s good enough for me!” 

You were pleased to see a small smile form on Zhongli’s face. Sometimes, you forgot that he was as much of an admirer of the Geo Archon as you were; perhaps even more. 

“Well, then, it seems that I have no need to go and fetch a book,” Zhongli said, settling into the chair by your bed. It had begun to look empty, whenever his familiar silhouette wasn’t filling the space beside you. “For I already know all of Rex Lapis’ stories quite well. Are there any that you want to hear in particular?” 

“Something new,” you begged, “something I haven’t read about yet.” 

“Hmm, that might be quite difficult. It seems as though all of the stories you enjoyed enough to share with me have been of Rex Lapis, in some way or another.” There was a gleam in Zhongli’s golden eyes as he leant back in his chair, thinking. You could not tell if he was teasing you. “Have you heard the story of how Guyun Stone Forest came about?” 

Guyun… You knew it as the island a little ways off the harbor; an outcrop of jagged rocks that caught the sun rays brilliantly at dawn. 

“I’ve heard that the stone mountains were once weapons used by Rex Lapis himself,” you said, hesitatingly. You knew the folktales surrounding the Geo Archon quite well, but it was always a bit of a risk to recite them to Zhongli, who seemed to always have his own surprisingly strong opinions on the events of history. “But I don’t know how true it is.”

“Indeed. There are countless stories surrounding Rex Lapis’ actions during the war, many of which have been warped by the passing of time,” Zhongli nodded, “but the legend of Guyun Stone Forest has, largely, been preserved in accordance to the facts.”

“So they were his weapons?” They certainly seemed differently shaped in comparison to the rest of the rock formations across Liyue. You tried to imagine the stone chunks being wielded in battle — did Rex Lapis… launch them with a mechanism? His arms? 

“His spears,” Zhongli amended gently. “The mountains you see today at Guyun each used to be the tips of the stone spears he used against his foes. After millennia of erosion from the wind and sea, those spears have been whittled down to what we see today.”

Holy shit. “How— how big was Rex Lapis?” 

Zhongli chuckled, the sound melodic. “He did not swing the spears, if that is what you mean. He merely created them from crag and cliff; before raining them from the sky. It would have been far too unwieldy to use such large weapons in battle.” A pause as he eyed you. “You have seen the Geo Archon before, no? At the Rite of Descension?”

You winced, the memory of the guards at Yujing Terrace surfacing along with the names they had called you. “Someone like me would never have been welcome at such a prestigious event.”

Zhongli hummed in acknowledgement, but you could tell that he was bothered — on your behalf? Quickly, you tried to move on. 

“I’ve caught glimpses from afar, though,” you admitted, remembering the brief sights that you could snatch of the Rite, each year after you scaled the walls of the terrace. “He was. Uh—“ None of the words that came to mind seemed appropriate — Beautiful. Majestic. So luminous that it seemed no one human deserved to so much as gaze upon his presence. “ —shiny.” 

Oh, yeah, Zhongli definitely should have left you on that mountain. 

Except he let out a quiet laugh despite your lack of eloquence, and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling along. “Indeed, he was,” Zhongli said. “But such was to be expected of the God of Wealth, no?”

“Who did Rex Lapis use the spears to fight at Guyun Stone Forest?” You asked, trying to imagine facing down all those hulking stone spears — choosing to continue fighting on despite facing the wrath of Rex Lapis. Had you been in that position during the Archon War, you didn’t think there was anything in the world that could have gotten you to stand your ground against the Lord of Geo. You would have surrendered at the sight of him, simple as that. “What were the other gods fighting for, in the Archon War, that would have been worth facing the might of Rex Lapis?” 

“So many questions,” Zhongli mused, resting his hand over his chin. “A simple answer would be — power. The Gods were vying for the strength and title of Archon. As for your first question, Guyun Stone Forest is the cemetery of countless former Liyue gods. The spears that have survived the weathering of the elements, the ones we still see today, however, were what Rex Lapis used to pin down the Lord of the Vortex, Osial. If you were unaware of Rex Lapis’ death, I trust that you also missed the recent reappearance of Osial?”

Something that could stand its ground against Rex Lapis had returned? Zhongli took your wide eyes as enough response, continuing, “during the Rite of Parting, some troublemakers took advantage of Rex Lapis’ absence to awaken Osial from the depths.”

Zhongli did not often use particularly strong words, but “troublemakers” was a mild way to put it, even for him. 

“The Adepti and Qixing — and a traveler, a friend of mine — worked together to seal him back into the depths, at the expense of the Jade Palace.” 

Ah, so that was where it had gone. You did not miss the thing — a hulking reminder of the impossible distance between the haves and have-nots of Liyue. It served Liyue much better, you thought, a little surprised at how bitterly, as a paperweight for the monster of the depths . 

“Did you see him? What did Osial look like?”

Zhongli shook his head. “I was not present at the harbor when he rose, for I was handling something at Wangsheng. However, most of the city saw him regardless — he was a gargantuan sea monster of a dozen heads, each cloaked in roiling waves. It’s said that had his attack not been stopped, he would have wiped the harbor clean from the face of this world in one breath.” 

“And Rex Lapis fought something like that?” You whispered, “how did he win?”

Zhongli’s gaze was fixed on you, but it seemed that he was looking past you, lost in the thoughts of another time. “It was a bloody battle. Rex Lapis carved those spears from the land he stood upon, riding them straight through the body of the beast, one at a time.”

“And Osial has been pinned by them… all this time?”

“All this time.”

You had known that the Lord of Geo had been ruthless in protecting his domain, but… Though you felt some horror at the thought of being impaled alive for thousands of years, to your shame, your first thought was of envy — for the Geo Archon’s power. You thought of the Vision in your room. If you could harness even a fraction of that power, if you had the strength to make those who had wronged you pay—

You blurted out the next few words without thinking, and although you were embarrassed at their bluntness, you didn’t regret speaking them. “Do you ever think that it’s unfair?” You asked, “that Rex Lapis was born with so much strength, while people like us, we’re left lamenting everything we might have been able to do — with just a fraction of his power?”

Zhongli studied your expression for a long, long time, before answering. “Physical strength can be learned, while strength of character — that is something that many still struggle to grasp.” 

“Like… courage?”

“Like kindness,” Zhongli said. He must have noticed your confusion, but he pressed on. “But to answer your question, you are correct. The way of the world is, though unfortunate, unfair. Some receive the power to cleave mountains, while others come into this world as fragile as dust.”

There it was again, one of the few occasions that you could almost make out something, a light tremor, crackling in Zhongli’s voice. Anger? Sadness? Fear? You could not put your finger on it.

“And so it is our duty,” he continued, “as inhabitants of this world, to respect the concept of fairness to the best of our abilities.”

You were beginning to understand, you thought, a little more of the infinitely deep well of character that was Zhongli; perhaps it was not just because of his loyalty to Rex Lapis that he was so enamored with the concept of contractual obligations. But mostly, you were intimidated by the atmosphere that had come to hang over the room. Against the afternoon sun, it almost looked like Zhongli’s eyes were glowing. 

“You know what’s really not fair?” you tried to smile, “not letting me go and visit Xiangling.” 

As quickly as the heavy pressure had come about, it disappeared. Zhongli raised a brow in a rare show of amusement. “There is nothing that I am not letting you do. You may leave at any time; I merely offered you my honest advice — that you should wait until you’re able to steadily walk again before leaving the house.” 

“I’m already recovered,” you protested. “It’s been three days, and you’ve made me take eight kinds of medicine. I’m surprised I haven’t grown two extra arms from them all.”

“You have fully recovered?” Zhongli asked, with a slight smile, “then, I presume, you will not mind if I stop reading to you, and instead bring you books as you requested?”

You froze. Not that you had ever done a good job of hiding it; but to know that he knew exactly how much you enjoyed listening to his stories was jarring all the same. 

“I am only teasing, of course.” Zhongli leant forward. “In the spirit of our talk of Rex Lapis, how about a contract to settle this matter? Should you rest properly for another four days and heed Qiqi’s instructions, I will refrain from saying even a single word in protest if you so choose to visit Xiangling after that. I will even prepare a bouquet of flowers for you to bring her.” 

You were surprised that you felt comfortable saying, with a comically exaggerated wink, “only if you read to me for each of the four days.”

You were even more surprised at the bright twinkle in Zhongli’s amber gaze, as he answered with, “then it seems we have a deal.” 

Chef Mao did not seem to be home, which was a small blessing. You weren’t sure how you could face him. The door to Xiangling’s room was ajar, and it was with great apprehension that you knocked on it gently.

“Come in,” a male voice that was distinctly not Xiangling’s said. 

Did you have the right room? Xiangling had no siblings that you knew of. Carefully, you nudged the door open.

Xiangling, bright eyes wide, was sitting up in her bed. There was already a bouquet of flowers next to her bed — almost exactly the same as the one you had brought. Next to her lounged two young men — you’d seen them before, the first time you’d been to Wanmin. 

One of them, the one with dark blue hair and such an intricate outfit that you wondered if Zhongli had personally taught him how to dress, turned to Xiangling. “Is this her?” 

“ HANSI !” Xiangling cried, and you reciprocated with her name shouted in equal pitch and tone. “Are you okay? Oh my Archon, Mr. Zhongli came to visit me the other day and he said that you were fine but I’ve been so worried!! I’m so sorry for dragging you there, if something had happened—”

“No,” you said, letting her grab your hand, “ I’m sorry that I didn’t stop you sooner—” 

“No, I’m sorry! You— you, ahhh!” Finally, Xiangling pulled you into a hug with her good arm, so tightly that you couldn’t help but let out a squeak. Pressed against your shoulder, you heard her sniffle.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense ,” said the boy who had first spoken, amusement clear in his voice as you and Xiangling finally pulled away. “Is this the myth, the legend herself, the warrior who valiantly fought off a creature of the Abyss to keep our clumsy Xiangling safe?” 

You opened your mouth to correct him: to tell him that the bulk of what you’d done was scream, run, then scream more, but the other boy spoke. “Let them have their moment, Xingqiu,” he murmured, pushing the light hair out of his shockingly blue eyes.

“Ugh, yeah , Xingqiu, let us have our moment ,” Xiangling scoffed, wiping the tears from her eyes — you had missed her bright smile more than you realized. “But yes! This is Hansi. Hansi, this is Xingqiu and Chongyun.” She pointed to the boy with the dark blue, then light blue hair respectively. 

“It’s— nice, uh, a pleasure to meet you,” you said, suddenly feeling very, very shy. 

“Likewise, my liege,” Xingqiu bowed his head briefly before lifting it again to peer at you in excitement. “I am most eager to hear about your adventures in the realm of the Adepti—“

“Did you see the monster?” Chongyun asked bluntly. 

Xingqiu huffed and waggled a finger at the other boy. “See Chongyun, this is why I say you must work on your chivalric code. You cannot simply approach a lady so bluntly and demand to know—“

“Aren’t you the one who wanted to know the most?” Chongyun asked again, barely batting an eyelid at the critique.

“I—“ Xingqiu wilted, sighed, and turned back to you. “I must admit, I am most curious. Did you see it? The man-eating monster that roams Qingyun at night?”

“The— huh?” You looked to Xiangling for aid, but she was looking at you with the same curious gaze. 

“The Nian! ” Xingqiu seemed giddy with excitement, growing more animated with each flowing hand gesture, “you don’t know it? Goodness, did you not play Catch the Nian’s Tail growing up with your friends? It lives in the mountains, and used to come down to the harbor at the first sign of spring to eat—” he bared his teeth to make a point “ —people ! But the Adepti drove the ferocious beast into a cave at the foot of Aozang, and there it remains to this day, only daring to skulk out at night in search of warm flesh…” 

There was a brief moment of silence. All three of them looked at you expectantly. 

“No,” you shifted uncomfortably. But Xingqiu’s smile fell a little, and so you rushed to salvage the opportunity to impress the friend of your friend, “um, I did run into an Adepti, though?” 

In unison, their jaws fell slack in a comical array of horror. The silence dragged on for a few more seconds, before the three of them broke into a wild chatter among themselves. 

“You’re not kidding?” All traces of gallantry and restraint were gone from Xingqiu’s voice. “Was it mad? Did you fight it?”

“Yes, and no,” you shivered, the words suddenly sticking to your throat. You saw Xiangling hesitate at your discomfort, but Xingqiu pressed on.

“So you must have used your Vision to escape! What a valiant adventure!” 

“I—” You startled, “Vision?”

“Of course! You— you don’t have one?” Xingqiu gave you a glance over, waiting for you to shake your head, stiffly. “And the Gods didn’t give you one when you fought the mage for Xiangling? You didn’t see a flash of light or anything?”

Keeping your lips firmly pressed together, you shook your head again. “I have done nothing deserving of the Gods’ favor,” you shrugged, and you did not simply mean the incident at Jueyun Karst. 

“Huh,” Xingqiu paused, seeming genuinely baffled. “I mean, you fought off a monster for a friend, that seems like the kind of thing that the Hydro Archon would admire, is all.” 

“If she came out of a confrontation with an Adepti, she must have displayed a certain degree of composure,” Chongyun shook his head. “If anything, she should have received a Cryo one.” 

“You should have seen the way she stood off against that thing,” Xiangling chimed in, “it was like a fire lit up in her. I think it would have been a Pyro Vision!” 

You stood, stunned, as the three of them bickered over your hypothetical Vision alignments, belting off list after list of qualities that they deemed worthy of the Gods. You couldn’t have gotten a word in, even if you’d tried. 

“Though, to make the decision to stand against a monster, without a Vision…” Xingqiu finally pondered, “is that not tenacity of the highest degree, in the face of adversity?” 

“Yeah! And you should see how hard she works at the kitchen, or when we’re hunting, there’s nothing she’s afraid to get her hands dirty for!” 

“If only Rex Lapis was still alive, you might have gotten a Geo Vision, then,” Chongyun mused. 

Oh .

Xingqiu nodded, opened his mouth as though to agree, when he glanced at the clock on Xiangling’s dresser. “Aah! I have to go, my brother will be looking for me by now, and I haven’t done the paperwork for—” He shook his head, grabbing Chongyun’s hand and dragged along with him the other boy, who seemed perfectly resigned to Xingqiu’s erratic mannerisms. 

Before he left, he turned to you. “Miss Hansi, you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you go home and find a Vision under your pillow or something. If that happens, come and train with me in the art of chivalry! You can find me at Feiyun Commerce Guild.” 

“Or you can join us for tea sometime at Heyu,” Chongyun offered. “Like a normal person.” 

The first time you had seen the two boys, three days into your acquaintanceship with Zhongli, you’d been cold. Alone, quiet despair bubbling behind the civil mask you wore so firmly. It stung to do so, but you could clearly remember the fear that threatened you with every breath that you’d dared to take in front of Zhongli, every word that you incessantly worried would offend your new master. 

You’d wished fervently that you would one day have the freedom to make friends like them; considered that wish little more than a dream.

“That would be lovely,” you told Chongyun with a grin. 

“You seem happy,” Zhongli remarked with a small smile, as you bounced your way through the door. “I trust that Xiangling was well?”

You did not tell him that your fidgetiness was not just from joy at seeing Xiangling again, not even from the happiness of making two friends. No, it was because on the way home, you had pondered for almost an hour on what your new friends had said about you. For the first time that you could remember, the Geo Vision you were hiding felt like yours .

And so, what now was left in stopping you from telling Zhongli? 

He had not been angry at you for knowing how to read, for wanting to learn; he had offered to teach you how to fight twice now. The haze of doubt that had stayed your hand and held your tongue was all but faded in the wake of the exhilaration of your new friends’ praise. No— it was not even because of them. You simply wanted to tell Zhongli, wanted so badly to share with him, on your own terms, the biggest secret of your life.

 If you were the one to tell him the truth, if you properly apologized for hiding it from him, he would understand. You were almost certain of it.

But on the off chance that he got angry— 

“Yes! Xiangling was fine!” Your voice came out a little high, and you cleared your throat. “Mr. Zhongli, do you know the story of the Nian?” 

Before coming home, you had circled the harbor twice, thinking your words through and through. Among your scrapped conversation starters for the reveal of your Vision:

“Mr. Zhongli, I found this on the side of the road, can I keep it?”

“Mr. Zhongli, someone slipped this into my pocket, what a surprise!” 

“Mr. Zhongli, did you need a spare—” 

“Mr. Zhongli, guess what they had on sale at Xigu Antiques—” 

No, none of those were very good. And so you decided that perhaps you would get him talking about a historical myth, so that he might be a little more receptive when the time came. Perhaps a story about a monster could even once again segway into him asking you if you wanted to learn how to fight — that would certainly make things easier. 

(And if he killed you for your deception after all, you might as well go after listening to his stories one last time.)

Zhongli pursed his lips at your question, thinking deeply. “Hmm, the Nian ? Yes, I remember hearing some rumors of that sort. Though during the time of the Adepti, I believe it was called the Scourge of Qingyun .” He said. “The humans— the future generations of Liyue Harbor dubbed it the Nian, named after the “new year” because it came only as the frost waned and the year began. The adepti made short work of it, however, and it hasn’t lived to terrorize the citizens of Liyue for over a millennia. Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” you said, “I was just wondering.” You couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed at how short the story ended up being. It didn’t help you in your quest to come clean about the Vision at all, either. “Chongyun and Xingqiu — Xiangling’s friends — were visiting her and brought it up.”

“The young exorcist and the prodigy of the Feiyun Commerce Guild?” Zhongli said thoughtfully, “I’m glad to see you making friends, Hansi. I think I may have an artist’s rendition of the Nian somewhere... would you like me to find it, so that you may show them the next time you meet?”

“Oh! Yes,” you exclaimed, feeling your spirits lift a little as Zhongli got up to oblige. For a moment, the matter of the Vision was forgotten. Chongyun and Xingqiu’s disappointment in your lacking beastial encounters still stung a little, and surely a picture of the Nian would be far better than any verbal account that you could give them? You wondered how happy they would be, imagined the proud smiles on their faces, and you felt a smile creeping onto your cheeks too. 

Just a little too late, you realize which door Zhongli had left ajar: yours. 

Oh, Archons save you.

Dread, cold and heavy, filled your throat and choked your lungs. Your body barely felt like your own as you sprinted down the hallway, slipping twice on the wooden floor before hitting the door with a loud thud and flinging it wide open. 

In the darkness, the proof of your guilt was spilled out across the walls, painting the room a bright gold. Zhongli stood over the drawers, the picture of a monster in one hand; the illuminated glow of the Vision — your Vision — in his other. 

A dozen excuses ran through your head, none of them worth letting through your lips. 

Zhongli was peering intently down at your Vision, his expression painfully unreadable — it would have been almost better, you thought, if he wore his inevitable rage, or disappointment, or displeasure on his sleeve. 

His amber gaze travelled, from the gemstone in his hand, to you. 

Wordlessly, Zhongli set down the painting on your bed and turned to face you. Every step he took towards you felt earthshaking; to your horror, you felt your knees begin to knock together. A cold, clammy chill had settled over your skin, and you opened your mouth but no words came out; each of them strangled by the raw, choking fear coiling in your lungs.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

Zhongli stopped in front of you, close enough to touch. Slowly, he held the Vision out, as though offering it to you. You could not move, could not speak. 

“This is yours,” Zhongli said. It was not a question.