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Darkness. That's the first thing Xiao registers, before feeling anything else.
It's some sort of limbo, he realizes, and it feels strangely familiar. His eyes are closed, aren't they? With a start, Xiao realizes something else— he's sleeping.
Something that's highly unusual for an adeptus under his circumstances. An adeptus doesn't sleep. Unlike mortals, they don't need to eat or drink, either. Certainly not Xiao, who rarely indulges in such activities, so how did he get here?
His eyes fly open with a start, his body immediately gathering adrenaline. His limbs protest, his legs feeling like dead weights chained to the bed he was lying in. Everything was screaming to stay, and in his mouth he curses the remaining mortal needs in an adeptus' flesh.
Xiao raises his hand to grab his materialized spear out of the air before his wrist is encased in a warm hold first. Slender fingers curl around his hand, and he's suddenly caught in a firm yet gentle grip.
"There is no need for alarm, Xiao."
The yaksha's ears may be slightly ringing but he could discern the voice as clear as day. Deep and somewhat soft, something that makes one feel grounded no matter where they are.
But he's still tense— he doesn't pull back from the other's grip, but he doesn't exactly want to stay either. But the hand that holds him stays still and unrelenting.
"M- Zhongli."
Xiao inwardly cringes at the stammer of his tongue. He hopes that it won't be taken the wrong way, the last thing he wanted was to show disrespect to his lord. Or— ah, ex-lord.
With a click, he can suddenly see much clearer. He blinks once, twice, to adjust his eyes to the sudden change of lighting.
Zhongli pulls his arm away from the freshly lit lantern. Xiao can feel the weight of his gaze on his person, yet he can't return the same gesture.
"Your injuries are still healing. Forgive me. I arrived only shortly after your battle was over."
Xiao blinks slowly again, before the memory slips back into his mind.
A flash of bright green, almost acidic, and a plunge, one after another. Every muscle is burning and something below him is screeching, whether from the pain of his blows or the burning hatred it feels— it makes him grit his teeth and feel bitter all the same.
Just another remnant of a long perished god. What once had been and what could have been.
And Xiao had made a slip up, didn't he?
"I understand that lately your duties must have been taking quite the toll on you—"
"No," Xiao protests, finally raising his head to turn and look at the man. "I promised."
"You did." Zhongli assures him.
"This is nothing. I can take care of myself, you need not interefere."
His words hold some bite but Xiao means it. He now rarely crosses paths with Zhongli, why now? Why is he seated, laid, in a soft bed at Wangshu Inn, when he could be continuing his duty?
"You were one of my strongest warriors. You are still very strong, I have no doubt in that. You have been capable of anything I had asked of you, and for that I am beyond grateful.
But you are no longer mine. You are your own, Xiao." Zhongli smiles gently at him— but there's a certain tinge of sadness resting in the corners of his lips.
He might as well have said you're on your own, because Xiao looked more crestfallen than ever.
He knows Zhongli won't free him of his contract and it wasn't only because of his unrelenting loyalty to them. It would be cruel, like ripping the heart away from a body. It was almost all Xiao knew. One day he might take it to the grave. Perhaps it just wasn't the right timing, or the right place, or...
Xiao can't muster anything to reply in return.
Zhongli clears his throat softly. "I did not mean to be so... serious. Tell me, how do you feel?"
"It's nothing to be concerned about," his own voice sounds hollow in his ears. He's suddenly aware that Zhongli is still holding his wrist‐ no, hand. He grimaces, the warmness is inviting yet strange and unfamiliar.
"I prepared some tea that should come to your aid, if the pain becomes too much." He knows Zhongli is being careful with his words, being all too familiar with Xiao's stubbornness and defensive exterior.
His own voice comes out softer than he expects. "Thank you."
A brief moment of silence passes between the two. It's not uncomfortable, however. The adeptus stays still, slightly appreciative that the other wasn't prying.
"I'm not only fighting for you, but for Liyue itself." He looks down at his lap, the words are difficult to utter. "I've accepted your retirement and I still love this land."
When Xiao closes his eyes, he remembers the hundreds of gold specks floating serenely in the air. Wishes upon wishes, hopes and dreams so sweet they were almost tangible, he could hear them all.
And, when he opens his eyes, he swears the lanterns in his imagination reflect in the golden gaze before him.
Zhongli is close, Xiao can make out the warm red lining under his eyes and oh, how he resist to trace them with his hand. He's sure that his body temperature rises at the thought as he grits his teeth, confused by the unexplainable desire to display such an act of intimacy. His inner turmoil is only heightened as he feels his lips come in contact with his skin.
Zhongli draws back only so slowly. Xiao stares at him, eyes wide.
There's blood roaring in his ears and his heart is caught in his throat. He can't utter a word.
"You should rest, my dear Xiao." He murmurs before drawing his fingers away from Xiao's cheek that Xiao didn't even know were there. He nearly chokes out of suprise and indignation. He has half the mind to reach out— and hold Zhongli before he pulls away, just to keep feeling, whatever he was feeling- but nothing will move.
Instead, he allows Zhongli to slip away with that smile of his. His own ears are definitely burning.
"...How can I rest now?"
Xiao doesn't go back to sleep, for a long time after Zhongli leaves.
His head is turned towards the curtains acting as a door between the cozy room and the balcony. A soft breeze flits through the semi-transparent material, giving way to the view outside.
What a beautiful night sky.
He sighs quietly, slightly raising a hand. As if his fingers could trace the outlines of the twinkling stars impossibly out of his reach.
Something ethereal. Close, yet far.
That's how he always saw him.
Xiao doesn't speak his name. His eyelids threaten to close but he strains to keep them open, to capture the view one more time. It's simple, contrary to the barrage of emotions he braved through just moments before.
He wants to feel it again.