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Before Childe knew about Zhongli’s true identity, he probably would have questioned where he’d found the time or will to befriend Venti. The bard is small, loud, and crass at the worst of times. Childe wouldn’t expect them to be friends—though he could say the same thing about himself.
As it is, Venti pouts up at Zhongli, hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of one of the flower sellers he’d seen in Liyue Harber once. The leaves of Windrise flutter over them in the breeze, sunlight leaking through in waves.
“I thought you were dead,” Venti says, tone light and airy but tinged with something that Childe has long learned to identify as grief.
“Apologies, Bar—” Zhongli falters. “Venti. I didn’t mean to cause you any alarm.”
Venti’s eyes narrow, bright green almost seeming to burn in accusation, “Well, you did, you blockhead.”
Ah, Barbatos, Childe realizes. This is the archon of the great city of freedom. When he knows, he can see it. The braids, the face, everything matches the statues scattered throughout Mondstadt. The bard’s braids even glow a subtle green with emotion, the same way Zhongli’s ponytail glows amber in his irritation and anger.
“And I apologize,” Zhongli presses. “It was never my intention to worry you.”
Venti huffs, turning his head to the side and making his pout more prominent. “Well, you did,” he repeats.
Childe has the distinct feeling that this interaction will go in circles if he doesn’t intervene. Normally Childe wouldn’t have a problem with that, but he has a distinct weakness for seeing pretty people happy.
“Mr. Zhongli, comrade,” Childe says. Venti’s and Zhongli’s gaze both turn to him, both bright and far too old for their own good. “Why don’t we talk about this over a meal? It’s rather close to lunch time.”
“I suppose that’s up to B—Venti,” Zhongli says.
“I’m pretty sure your friend already knows who I am,” Venti says after a moment. “You’re paying.”
Zhongli nods, “Of course, Venti.” Zhongli says the name with more confidence this time. “As for the name, it would be rather inconvenient of me to slip up in public.”
“Hmmm,” Venti hums, “if you say so.”
“It’s on me then,” Childe says agreeably—not an unexpected outcome.
-
Good Hunter is a quaint little restaurant with an atmosphere that is different from the expensive restaurants of Liyue. The only place that comes close to it is Wanmin, with its small but homey feel.
“Hello, Sara,” Venti greets, beaming up at the woman across the counter.
“Good morning, Venti,” Sara says with a smile. Her eyes hold nothing but warmth toward her archon. “It’s good to see you this afternoon. Are you here to order anything?”
Venti nods, gesturing to Childe, “He’s paying.”
“Ah, of course,” Sara says. “Have you replaced Master Diluc then?”
“I could never,” Venti giggles. “Master Diluc buys me the best wine.”
Sara laughs, “Of course, of course, Venti. So, what’ll it be?”
“One Northern Apple Stew, please,” Venti says. “What about you, Zhongli, Childe?”
Zhongli looks contemplative for a moment before frowning, “I’m afraid that I don’t remember how most of the dishes from Mondstadt taste. Any suggestions?”
“There’s Barbatos’ Ratatouille.” Venti’s suggestion is filled with a light tease, easy to miss for anyone who doesn’t know who he is. “There’s also the Pile ‘Em Up.” Venti pauses for a second before continuing on, “You like that soup, right? The one with the bamboo shoots in it?”
“Bamboo shoot soup,” Zhongli says almost amusedly. “That’s correct.”
“Well, we don’t have that,” Venti says, “but we have calla lily seafood soup.”
“Two orders of that then,” Childe says, “even if Mr. Zhongli doesn’t eat it, I will.”
Venti nods with a laugh, “Childe has spoken, old friend.”
Zhongli sighs, as if cornered, but a smile quirks onto his lips, “So he has.”
Venti turns back to Sara, smile on his lips even brighter than before, “That’ll be it, Sara!”
“Ten minutes then,” Sara informs.
-
In the time Childe has known Venti, he has decided he likes him. He gets Zhongli to smile more often than usual. He also has very good taste in food, if that taste of the soup is anything to go by.
“You like it?” Venti asks.
Zhongli nods, “It’s excellent, Venti. It is good to see your city didn’t inherent your poor taste.”
Venti laughs, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t eat often.”
Childe knows that archons probably have a different set of rules and expectations regarding eating, okay? But the statement causes Childe’s eyes to narrow, gaze scanning Venti’s face. The bard’s cheeks are soft and full and he doesn’t look underfed. Either way, Childe resolves to feed him the same way he feeds Zhongli.
“Here,” Childe says, pushing his bowl over to Venti and Zhongli. “You both need to eat more.”
Venti looks surprised at the gesture, but Zhongli just sighs. “Childe, we’re fine.”
“You eat less than some of the birds that I’ve met.”
“I’m pretty sure that every bird eats more than a wisp,” Venti jokes.
Childe considers for a moment, tilting his head, “A wisp, huh?”
“A being of pure wind,” Zhongli fills in. “Though, whether we should speak of such matters in public is debatable.”
Venti says, “Don’t worry, no one will believe me.”
Zhongli gives him the most tired look Childe has ever seen.
-
Lunch runs far too long and that, perhaps, is why a red-haired man comes to find them. A man with an eyepatch trails behind him, looking far too amused for his own good.
“Bard,” the red-haired man says, “you’re late.”
“Late?” Venti muses. “What ever for, Master Diluc? I’m not playing tonight.”
The man—Diluc—stops in his tracks, considering. Then, after a moment he says, “You’re usually in the tavern by now.”
“I can’t spend every night getting drunk,” Venti says. “Especially since you refuse to give me more than a bottle until my tab is paid.”
Diluc’s eyes narrow in annoyance, “Bard—”
“Leave the poor man alone, Master Diluc,” the dark-haired man says. “It’s one day. It’s not as if it’s been a week. Though, I was getting concerned about my drinking buddy.” The man turns his gaze toward Venti. “Who else will drink me under the table?”
“I’ll be back at it tomorrow, Sir Kaeya,” Venti says. “But today, I’m spending time with my old friend and his companion.”
Kaeya’s gaze turns to rest on Childe and Zhongli, knowing look coming across his face. He smirks, in the next moment speaking like he’s won something, “Oh? And why is your friend here associating with a Harbinger?”
Diluc stiffens. He opens his mouth then closes it after a moment, looking around. He seems to know that he shouldn’t make a scene in public.
“Let’s speak in the tavern,” Diluc says, voice hard as his eyes rest on Childe.
Venti moves to stand, “Well, have fun, Master Diluc, Sir Kaeya. I’m going to go—”
“You too, bard.”
-
Angel’s Share is warm and relatively easy to clear out on a week day, apparently. It’s empty in minutes.
Venti ends up sitting on a stool in front of the bar, Diluc staring far too accusingly at everyone in the room.
“Get out of Mondstadt,” Diluc says when he speaks. There is no tact in it.
“Now, Master Diluc,” Venti says, “we can’t just kick Childe out of Mondstadt without a good reason.”
“How about—” Diluc starts, then stops, gaze darting to Kaeya.
Kaeya chuckles, “Continue on, Diluc, there are no secrets here.”
Diluc scowls, “Leave, Kaeya.”
“You’d kick me out just when the fun was beginning?” Kaeya asks. “How rude. I mean, how ever will you protect dearest Venti here by yourself?”
“I can protect myself,” Venti huffs. “Besides, there’s nothing to be protected from.”
“See,” Kaeya says, “you should trust the bard. Childe is safe to be in Mondstadt for now and I’m keeping a close eye on him.”
Diluc closes his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. “Venti, I trust you,” he says slowly. Venti perks up, clearly thinking this will end well. “I do not trust your friend or the Harbinger.”
Venti deflates just as quickly, “We’ve been friends for forever, Diluc.”
Diluc sighs, turning his gaze to Zhongli for the first time that night. “Forever, huh? Then surely he should know the Harbingers are not your friends.”
“Now, now, Master Diluc,” Venti scrambles. Childe suddenly remembers a keen detail about Signora’s last assignment.
Kaeya hums, “I take it you didn’t tell your friend here about the unsavory methods used by Ms. Signora.”
Diluc’s eyes widen and his gaze shoots to Kaeya. Kaeya’s grin is sharp.
“How did you know about that?” Venti asks.
Kaeya chuckles, leaning over to rest his elbow on top of Venti’s head, “Don’t worry, dearest bard.”
“What,” Zhongli starts carefully, “did Signora do?”
Kaeya taps Venti’s chest with his free hand, “Why, she snatched something very important away with the utmost force. Didn’t even ask the poor bard if he wanted to lose it.”
Childe is pretty sure he’s never seen Zhongli look angrier.