Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I

Keqing always thought she would die with a sword in her hand and a prosperous Liyue to show for it. A city so strong, so unstoppable, that she could leave its warm embrace knowing there was no need for gods.

The last place the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing expected to meet her demise was in the comfort of her own home, with a splitting headache that felt like death calling.

Keqing’s hand shakes as she pins up the last of her hair by the hallway mirror. Her attempt at normalcy doesn’t exactly work. Her twintails do not hold their usual bounce. The lavender color doesn’t have its usual shine, some of the ends are still singed black. She even looks like death.

The purplish-green bruise along her jaw isn’t showing signs of yellowing around the edges anytime soon. Keqing’s split lip has healed, somewhat-- she's not afraid to grin too wide anymore in fear of reopening it. Not that she had much to smile about in the last few days, anyway. Under her clothes, her mess of a torso is another story; it’s a small relief that she doesn’t have to look at it when fully clothed.

The accursed “toy factory” she’d set out to investigate had been but a dungeon crawling with Ruin Guards. Rumors of the abandoned ruins housing the highly dangerous creatures had been on the Millelith’s radar for some time, but they either didn’t have the guts or the initiative to venture in.

It just so happened, Keqing had both.

To be fair, the traveler had warned her. Her companion, Paimon, had called it that-- a toy factory. Before departing the harbor to seek new adventures, Lumine mentioned she’d dealt with one such facility, but she did not know if there were more.

Turns out, there were at least two more, connected via underground tunnels.

Apparently, one of the Fatui Harbingers conducted experiments there until he eventually grew bored and abandoned them. After what went down with that ginger boy at the Golden House, this was but another insult. She couldn’t stand the idea that the likes of the Fatui ran such illicit research facilities around Liyue, right under their nose. It made Keqing’s blood boil, and off she went.

Which. In hindsight. Proved to be a mistake.

She stood her ground against the first few hordes, but even the Yuheng was not invincible. Keqing quickly lost count of how many times one malevolent machine went down only for another to take its place. Lost count of how many times she had to strike that weak spot, over and over, only to continuously get swarmed. A bow user would have made the feat easier, but not achievable. A small army was needed to truly wipe them out.

Keqing made a valiant effort, at least. Arcs of electricity raced through the air, frying the war machines one after the other, her sword and body a flash of crackling purple. What threw her off in the end was the automaton whose name she later learned in a hospital bed-- Ruin Grader. Somehow worse than a Ruin Guard and Ruin Hunter, the gargantuan creature had only been previously spotted in the desolate Dragonspine. Somehow, someway, one of them was brought to Liyue. Keqing almost got stomped to death before she was found-- and given the situation, that she was found at all was a miracle.

The knock at her door surprises her.

Her last visitor, who showed up a little over an hour ago, had been Ganyu. She had requested the Yuheng stay home for the day, as more than one person had noticed she was still unwell the night before, during a hearing before her fellow Qixing. Even though her body had begged her to stay in bedrest, remain under blissful unconsciousness, Keqing had forced herself to face them to deliver the tale. Today, she intended to do the same.

The poor half-Qilin had been subject to the worst of Keqing’s migraine, her fatigue, her pain. She felt immensely bad that the well-meaning secretary left with the most dejected look Keqing had ever seen on her gentle face, but what was done was done.

Maybe too hasty, she opens the door.

What greets her are two narrowed eyes, wine-colored, pissed. Tall and haughty, wrapped in her fancy furs-- Keqing would know her anywhere, she would know her blind.

Ningguang.

The Tianquan towers over her, beautiful and perfectly put-together, the complete opposite to Keqing’s disheveled appearance. Despite her best efforts, the younger woman still looked like she could use a few more days off. Yesterday, Uncle Tian had even made the tasteless joke that she looked barely-held together by staples and sheer willpower.  

“Good morning, Yuheng. I see the night was not kind to you.”

Keqing ignores the slight against her appearance. She knows she looks like shit, thank you very much. She grips the doorframe to support herself, with the dual purpose of blocking access, in case her coworker got any ideas of slipping past her. A personal visit from Ningguang was rarely a good thing.

She’s not one for small talk, so she settles for a curt nod and no proper greeting, “Ningguang. What are you doing here?”

It seems the older woman shares the sentiment, for her reply is immediate.

“You made Ganyu cry.”

Keqing’s heart sinks, and her defiant stance quickly deflates. She’d been harsh, but maybe her fevered mind hadn’t measured just how much. Guilt gnaws at her insides as she fumbles to explain herself, “I -- I didn’t mean to. I just--" she grunts, unable to reason with her madness, but does not concede, “she knows better than to question the decisions of a member of the Qixing, is all.”

If at all possible, Ningguang’s eyes harden even more. She folds her arms under her chest, and that’s all it takes. Keqing sighs, beaten. She wasn’t in the right. No matter how much she was hurting, Ganyu wasn’t to blame. In the end, it was Keqing’s fault for venturing out alone, for insisting that she didn’t need to stay in bedrest longer than a day. Her behavior was taking the worst kind of toll, she was destroying her own body.

Keqing hangs her head in shame. “I will apologize to Ganyu the second I see her.”

“Ganyu has no need for your apologies,” it’s said flippantly, “she does, however, have need for you to stop being so stubborn. Right now, you are your own worst enemy.”

Keqing’s gaze snaps up, and it’s hard to keep her shame away. So, she tries to deflect. Keqing uses her chin to point over Ningguang’s shoulder, “I will seek her at once. Just let me put on my shoes, and I’ll join you. Let us go to Yuehai Pavilion. There is much to be done.”

“Oh, you misunderstand. I did not come here to fetch you,” Ningguang waves a dismissive hand, their clawed ends catch the light as she does. “I’m here to repeat Ganyu’s message. You almost died, you know. If that prankster Hu Tao hadn’t been hunting for ghosts…”

The young funeral director didn’t call it hunting for ghosts, but Keqing would forever be grateful that she and her ragtag group found her when they did. She didn’t know why in the world Hu Tao’s idea of a double date involved venturing into a creepy underground facility, but she was glad for it. Hu Tao and her girlfriend Xiangling combined their Pyro power to unleash hell on the automatons. The boys with them, Chongyun and Xingqiu, Cryo and Hydro users respectively, also played a key role in Keqing’s rescue. They truly saved her.

Even as she thinks fondly on the promising team of young men and women --Liyue’s future, really-- Keqing’s mind is dragged back to the present. A cold voice drills into her skull, demanding her attention.

Ningguang isn’t done berating her yet.

“If not for that group of teens poking around where they shouldn’t, Liyue would have suffered another great loss, so shortly after the last. Frankly, it’s dumb luck you’re here at all,” Ningguang’s unusual bluntness stings, maybe more than it should.

Despite internally acknowledging that she’s in the wrong, Keqing cannot stand Ningguang’s… what even was this? Was she being patronizing, or overly concerned? Either way, some of her misplaced anger from before rears up again, and she glares at the taller woman.

“I told Ganyu I’m okay, and I’ve no problem repeating this fact to you.” Keqing sets her jaw, speaks as haltingly and clearly as she can, “I. Am. Fine.”

Ningguang’s cold look could freeze over Sumeru. Her lips pull into a snarl, “You may have turned down our secretary,” she says, “but you will not refuse the Tianquan.”

Just like that, Ningguang breezes past her, and into her home.

“Y-you’re trespassing -- wait! Hey, wait!”

Keqing is shocked to find herself winded as she follows, desperately trying to catch her breath. She was fit, and young, but gods, her insides were still very fucked up. Ningguang slips past her and marches into the cozy living space, effectively breaking-and-entering. Keqing musters up whatever bravado she can and raises an accusing finger, “Stop! You are not above the law, Ningguang!”

“And you are being childish, not to mention naive, if you think yourself above normal standards of healing.”

Keqing blinks hard, affronted, and decides to focus on the wrong thing. “You… you are, like, only five years older than me. I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

Their bickering is almost normal, which, weirdly enough, calms her. Ningguang continues to scold her, but the rich timbre of her voice lulls, not grates, for once. The words wash over her, but they blend together, and Keqing’s eyes glaze over. The doctor had warned her that spacing out like this could happen due to the concussion she got as a souvenir from the underground fiasco.

“… and so, it is perfectly natural that your body demands rest.”

Ningguang snaps her fingers right under her nose. Keqing blinks, struggles out of her daze. She’s successfully startled out of her thoughts, and her first instinct is to bat the older woman’s hand away.

“Did you listen to any of what I said?”

“Yes, of course! Stop lecturing me already!”

She must not sound very convincing, because Ningguang has that look she gets when someone’s trying to pull the wool over her eyes. Countless sleazy merchants had tried, and Keqing was yet to see someone succeed in gaining the upper hand over the Tianquan’s sharp mind.

“Liyue needs you now more than ever,” Ningguang says, her voice growing even more stern as she goes on, “I will not allow you to waste away for… what is this, exactly? Surely it’s not a matter of pride. Hm… a complex of some sort?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me. Back off!”

“Keqing. You’re swaying in place. Won’t you be reasonable?”

For the first time, she realizes how Ningguang has positioned herself: she’s blocking Keqing’s access to the door. If she wanted to sidestep her, the Tianquan could easily grab her. Her eyes flick toward the window, wondering if she would be able to make the jump and flee down the street before Ningguang could react. Lithe as she was, the fall would probably still shatter her ankles, so she abandons the idea quickly.

“You are the Tianquan,” Keqing says, immediately trying another strategy, “don’t you have more important matters to attend to? Are you really here to babysit me?”

The way Ningguang’s eyes narrow into slits just encourages Keqing to barrel on with her questions, “Wouldn’t some men trade their entire patrimony to be graced with a minute of your time?” 

“You are correct, I am in high demand. And while I appreciate your concern regarding my schedule…” the corners of Ningguang’s lips quirk into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “it just-so-happens that today is our bimonthly meeting. It only made sense that I come to you, given your present ailment.”

It feels like the whole world tilts just then-- wait, no, that’s just her growing nausea. Keqing grips the back of a chair for support until her knuckles turn white. When the world stops spinning and Keqing lets the revelation of the date dawn on her, her eyes go wide with alarm.  

“That’s today?!”

“Indeed. Two months have passed since I was last delighted by your incessant need to point out my mistakes. Well…” Ningguang drawls out the last word, shooting her a smug look as she does, “apparent mistakes. You’re seldom right about any of it, anyway.”

Keqing ducks her head to hide her scowl. How could she lose track of time like this? How is it possible? She knows Ningguang is right. After the last few days, Keqing had definitely neglected to keep proper track of her meticulous mental calendar. None of her personal secretaries, or Ganyu herself, ever felt the need to remind her of such things-- usually, she was on top of everything.

Not this time.

Her silence only seems to amuse her coworker further. Ningguang’s smile starts to look a little more genuine as she says, “It’s Yuheng Day. You have my undivided attention, so long as you stay home. It’s all about you! Aren’t you excited?”

Yuheng Day. Keqing furrows her brows, knowing she’s being mocked, but at the same time, endeared by the name. While it was promising that Ningguang seemed determined to take their meeting seriously for once, it did not mean Keqing was an invalid that needed to be babied any further. She could go to work like any responsible adult should!

“Very well. That means you and I have a lot to tackle today,” Keqing releases the back of the chair, feels a surge of pride when she remains steady on her feet. Her eyes flick back to meet Ningguang’s, “Then we should get going to the—”

“No. I don’t think you understand,” Ningguang speaks slowly, like she’s talking to 6-year-old Yaoyao. “You are not to leave this building, and it is non-negotiable.”

Keqing must really be on the verge of death, because the thinly veiled threat barely registers. If she were in her right mind, Keqing would blow up at Ningguang for presuming she could control her like that.

“Is that so? Are you going to stop me if I try?” Keqing raises her chin, narrows her eyes in challenge.

“Only if I must.”

The iciness in Ningguang’s response makes her twitch involuntarily. A master of Geo of her stature could certainly restrain her if she wanted to. The idea that Ningguang could summon manacles made of stone at any moment instills a kind of fear in her that isn’t entirely of a troubling nature. It actually kind of makes her curious, but Keqing does not want to unpack that notion, lest it awaken something in her.

Instead, Keqing quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. Doctor’s orders.”

She loses the staring contest before it can even begin. The fit of coughing  that rattles her entire body leaves her teary-eyed. When she’s done, Keqing is relived that her hand comes back with no specks of blood. That was progress from the nightmarish last couple of nights she had. Ningguang waits for her to finish, her brows drawn together, but she does not comment.

“The other Qixing will think me weak,” Keqing hisses. She was the youngest, the most rebellious, arguably the least conservative. Her ideas weren’t always popular with the other Stars of Liyue. She couldn’t let them have one more thing to hold against her.

“They will think no such thing,” Ningguang says. For the first time during her unwelcome visit, her expression softens. “What you did two days ago was commendable. They will be singing your praises as you rest and get better. Besides…” it’s slightly unnerving, how warm she can make her voice, “your work often takes you outside a stuffy office… think of it like that. Staying home until you are healthy again is by no means a show of weakness.”

A siren, Keqing decides, this woman is a siren. That’s why she was being swayed, why her words were actually managing to convince her. In another life, Ningguang would be urging sailors to their deaths from her honeyed words alone. It was a theory Captain Beidou had coined while drunk, and the Yuheng was starting to believe it. Keqing hated when Ningguang did that-- when she was reasonable and used logic to disarm her like this.

“… very well,” Keqing says, even if the words taste like acid as they leave her. “But we’re going to get work done, Ningguang. I’m not going to play hooky with you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ningguang bares her teeth into what’s supposed to be a smile. The look reminds her of Beidou, and Keqing feels a stab of annoyance at the idea that they’re spending time together again. Before she can think too much of it, the Geo user claps her hands, “Come in!”

Keqing wonders what the hell she means for about two seconds, before a pair of women trot in through the still-open door. The Yuheng’s hand automatically moves towards her hip, where her Lion’s Roar is missing. Oh, right. Her trusty sword shattered after those Ruin Guards beat her to a pulp. It had been with her for years. Replacing it, refining it and forging it to usefulness was going to be a whole different kind of headache.

She does a double take as Ningguang’s secretaries flank her sides in an instant, bringing with them various boxes and other assorted items. Without need for the Tianquan’s instruction, they arrange them on the round wood table, all done in an orderly fashion. In the blink of an eye, what used to be a neat space in her home suddenly seemed to have Ningguang’s stamp all over it.

“Wh-- were they out there the entire time?!” Keqing demands.

“Yes.”

All Keqing can do is stare in disbelief as they go in and out, still holding boxes. Some finely crafted, bought by Ningguang most likely for a personal use, while others bore Bubu Pharmacy’s colors. A few, Keqing realizes, resemble file cabinets, stacked with documents. She feels a simmering kind of anger rise to her throat, at the thought of Ningguang so carelessly transporting sensitive information around the city, with no security protocol in place.

After a short while of this, the one with the glasses approaches her boss with her head bowed, “Lady Ningguang, Baixiao is still under the window, and we need her to assemble the final part. Shall I tell her to come up?”

“Please do,” Ningguang says, as Baishi scampers away obediently.

Ningguang’s secretaries were a well-oiled machine… granted, not better than Ganyu by herself, but they made a solid team. From what Keqing can see, the boxes contain mostly stationary, namely, pens, inkwells, paper… the workload for the day.

Keqing’s attention is drawn by what her assistant just said, and she rounds on Ningguang. “Why did you have your secretary stationed outside my window?”

“In case you decided to jump out,” Ningguang says, as if it’s a completely normal assumption to make. “You can be awfully difficult… but, thankfully for everyone involved, you are also predictable.”

Keqing’s face burns at the… accuracy. Fuck, was she, really? She supposed she was quite straightlaced, but the assertion that she was flat-out predictable stings. She wasn’t a wildcard like Beidou, or as duty-bound as Ganyu, but for Ningguang to correctly guess her exact train of thought…

She watches in mild distress as the trio of secretaries bring an entire desk in. It’s the portable version of the solid oak one Ningguang currently used, the replacement for the ornate one lost after the destruction of the Jade Chamber. The efficient secretaries assemble it smack in the middle of the open living space, faster than Keqing can even begin to make sense of it in her head.

“That will be all,” Ningguang says, once they are done. “Thank you for accompanying me. You are dismissed.”

Baiwen bows deeply, “Understood. When shall we expect you back, Lady Ningguang?”

Ningguang opens her mouth, closes it. She levels Keqing with a look that’s just plain weird, before delivering her cryptic little response, “I’ll let you know.”

Before Keqing can question how she plans to communicate with her subordinates if she’s sending them away, the secretaries march right out, with the same efficiency as they came in. The door clicks shut, and it’s done.

She’s left alone with the Tianquan once more.

Pain throbs in the back of her eyelids, and Keqing grumbles, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into staying home.”

“On the contrary! I’m glad you came around! Now then…” Ningguang spins in place, her lips pursed, “take off that ridiculous getup and make yourself comfortable.”

It takes Keqing a second to realize the Tianquan is asking her to change out of her clothes. While certainly fashionable and business-appropriate, she had to admit they didn’t feel the best against her wounds, but she’d decided to suck it up for the sake of getting through the day. Keqing feels herself flush, “I can work in these,” she says, testy.

A dark look crosses Ningguang’s face then.

“I saw the doctor’s report, Keqing. You’re lucky your ribs didn’t puncture your lungs when the Ruin Guard smashed you against the wall,” Keqing can’t help the slight wince she lets out at the still very-vivid memory. The Tianquan isn’t done delivering her harsh words, “In fact, I was told I may have to help you change the bandages around your ribcage.”

The blush on her cheeks intensifies. Ganyu had volunteered to help too, and Keqing almost bit her head off for it. Now here was the Lady of the Jade Chamber, offering to do the same, and suddenly the idea wasn’t so terribly unappealing.

Keqing clenches her jaw, fights down the heat threatening to color her cheeks even more, “I don’t want your help.”

“Ah. The keyword being want. You may not want my help, but you need it.”

Gods, she’s not sure if the concern is sweet or too overbearing. Though there’s one thing she’s sure of-- the condescension is almost a bit too much to stomach.

Or…

Keqing’s eyes go wide.

No, this revulsion wasn’t because she was growing allergic to Ningguang’s words as she initially suspected. Her stomach lurches, and the Yuheng races to the bathroom. Her bare feet slap against the wood floor, and she makes it just in time. She manages to empty the contents of her stomach inside the bowl. Not that she expels much. Her breakfast had been quite lackluster, her appetite gone after lashing out at Ganyu earlier.

Keqing whimpers; her damaged torso screams in protest, as does her bruised ego. She slides against the tile floor, curls up on herself, suddenly too tired to keep fighting. Ningguang’s presence beside her isn’t even that surprising anymore. She’d never seen the Tianquan run, and part of her can’t help but wonder how she got to her side so fast.

“Archons, look at you. You’re a mess…” Ningguang’s tone is something between frustration and flat-out pleading. “What were you thinking, going out there alone, to the last known whereabouts of a Harbinger?”

“Are you here to lecture me, or…” Keqing swallows; even the effort burns. She tries again, her voice a croak, “… why are you here?”

“I already told you; today is Yuheng Day. We were going to spend the entire day together, regardless of anything. I can listen to your deranged complaints against my policies in your own home.”

“Even in the toilet?”

“Even in the toilet,” Ningguang confirms. She brings her clawed gloves up to Keqing’s exposed nape-- and she rubs, soothing circles that start there, only to travel to her shoulder blades. It’s simply too relaxing, and against her better judgement, Keqing allows herself to melt into the touch.

This side of Ningguang was unbeknownst to her. Keqing knew it existed in the abstract of things; but she’d never been on the receiving end of it. They usually were too busy clashing and being petty to properly regard the other as an equal.

The passing of Rex Lapis was bringing about a new age for everyone indeed.

“I might as well make sure you don’t die, since you obviously won’t,” Ningguang murmurs, her voice surprisingly gentle.

“Somebody has to.”

Keqing picks a soft cotton shirt, paired with shorts. It’s leagues better than her previous outfit, she had to admit. No member of the Qixing had ever seen her looking something other than perfectly impeccable, so Ningguang’s look of mild amusement immediately makes her self-conscious. 

“What?” Keqing snaps, “You told me to change, remember?”

“That, I did.” Ningguang hums, pleased as ever that she got her way. They met up again in the bathroom after splitting up for a couple of minutes. Keqing had slipped into her bedchamber to change out of her restrictive clothes, while Ningguang went to fetch one of the many boxes she brought.

She casts the suspicious box a look as it rests on the sink, “What’s that? Did you bring that to torture me?”

“Nothing quite so dramatic,” Ningguang flicks her wrist in its general direction, “see for yourself. Just painkillers and fresh bandages. I was told the salve to treat your wounds was already in your possession.”

Keqing goes uncharacteristically quiet. Try as she might, she had not been able to apply the medicinal paste recommended by the doctor on her own, nor correctly wrap her wounds as she’d been instructed. As much as she loathed to admit it, she needed an extra set of hands.

Ningguang offers her a small cup that reeks of something herbal; it aggravates the pounding in her head. Wordlessly, Keqing tips her head back and drinks the bitter concoction that was supposed to serve as a painkiller. From her experience, it would ease some of the most obvious pain, but Keqing wasn’t keen on taking it; it left her head cloudy, made her sleepy. It tended to interfere with her demanding work flow, so she usually opted to endure the discomfort. The downside was that the unmanaged pain was equally as distracting.

When she’s done, she catches Ningguang staring at her-- as if appraising her, somehow. She looks completely unbothered at being caught. Ridiculously so, it’s Keqing who averts her eyes. Then the Tianquan speaks.

“Good. Now, let us not dawdle. Take off your shirt, and I’ll change the bandages.”

Keqing worries her bottom lip between her teeth, “Are you sure there’s no other—”

“You’re going to make it worse if you insist on the tough act.”

The Yuheng squeezes her eyes shut, as if that alone could slow down time and let her gather her nerve. Against her best interest, she tries to stall by asking, “Do you even have any experience doing this?”

Ningguang rolls her eyes, “Yes, I’ve patched up people before.”

“Such as?”

“Are you really asking me for references about—”

“Humor me, please.”

“Captain Beidou, for one. Myself, on occasion. The people in my village looked to me for certain scrapes...” maybe it’s the reference to her humble upbringing that triggers it, but something fierce flashes in Ningguang’s eyes. She watches as the older woman’s jaw tightens and her words scald, “Am I worthy enough to put my dirty commoner hands on the Lady Keqing, or should I list more of my qualifications?”

Keqing blanches at the sudden venom in Ningguang’s tone. The older woman had raised her voice many times when the Qixing gathered; but never had she delivered such a personal, direct attack, especially not at Keqing.  

Her tongue feels like lead in her mouth, and it’s near impossible to formulate a defense as the younger woman stammers out, “I-- I didn’t mean it like-- like what you’re implying, I-- did not wish to offend—”

“Take off your shirt. Now.”

Mutely, Keqing obeys. The harsh words effectively punched out any remaining apprehension. She strains a little to pull the soft material over her head, and she’s glad that she chose to wear a simple black bra under it. Keqing doesn’t know if she would be able to handle that scarlet gaze on her completely naked chest. Having Ningguang perceive the soft flush on her collarbone, which already traveled up to color her cheeks and ears, is mortifying enough.

Thankfully, Ningguang looks at her with a clinical eye, nothing more. She pinches the index claw of her gloves, tugs it away to remove the accessory entirely. Pale, slender fingers trace the tightly wrapped bandages, and Keqing shivers.

“You really should have let Ganyu help you with these when she offered,” she tsks softly, still examining the material, “you truly did a shoddy job on your own. This isn’t doing anything for your ribs, other than hurt them.”

Keqing sniffles, but doesn’t respond. She’s still reeling over Ningguang’s words, and is terrified to mess up again. They weren’t the best of friends by any means, but she’d grown to have a begrudging respect for the Lady of the Jade Chamber. After Morax left them for good, she’d come to rely on the controversial businesswoman, started to truly think of her as an ally. She found the idea that Ningguang may harbor such negative feelings towards her intolerable, but Keqing is too nervous to clear the air.

Ningguang peels off the old gauze, unwinds it from her torso, surprisingly gentle. Keqing gasps as her usually pale skin, nowadays a dark purple, is slowly uncovered. Scabs and other assorted marks greet them, and Keqing’s cheeks continue to burn. The swelling has gone down significantly, but breathing in still hurts like all hell. Her botched attempt to apply the medicine on her own makes her self-conscious, as it’s blatantly uneven; Keqing could not reach all the spots by herself.

“You had tied it too tight,” Ningguang murmurs, “can you breathe well?”

Keqing nods, still unsure how to tread the space between them after Ningguang’s outburst. An apology sits on the tip of her tongue, but with Ningguang’s close proximity, it’s proving impossible to voice. She’s hyper-aware of Ningguang's every move, down to her actual inhales and exhales. Keqing’s eyes track her every movement as the older woman twists off the lid that contains the medicinal paste.

Ningguang dips her fingers into the smelly salve and applies it with surprising care, looking for all the spots she missed. She’s grateful that she’s just working up from what Keqing already did, and not scraping it or washing it off. That would be a waste of time.

Goosebumps break across Keqing’s skin, and she bites back a whimper at the cold contact of fingertips on still-tender skin. Ningguang is so tall that she has to lower herself to properly reach, below eye-level. Ningguang’s dainty fingers dab at splotchy skin and cover it exactly as the doctor ordered.

Something about the soothing cold of the ointment on her skin finally helps Keqing gather her courage, and she clears her throat.

“Ningguang,” Keqing says, urgent and meek. “I-- I'm  sorry if my reluctance came across as… elitist. I promise you, it was not my intention.”

Keqing sucks in a breath, prepared to reassure Ningguang that her humble origins were of no consequence. Assure her that, while an important part of the Tianquan’s history, Keqing would never look down on her because of her place of birth or anything so trivial.

The Tianquan, however, beats her to it.

“I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Ningguang says, unperturbed as ever, entirely focused on her task, “you were nervous, which is understandable. It’s an uncomfortable situation. Nothing more to it.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“Sometimes people need a little push in order to get out of their comfort zone.”

That wasn’t a little push, in Keqing’s opinion, more like a kick in the ass that launched her straight into the stratosphere. It had been but a tactic, to get what she wanted. She finds that she can’t summon her usual anger at Ningguang’s antics, not when she’s being so attentive and kind. Also, the knowledge that she doesn’t really resent Keqing is very wonderful to hear.

When she’s done applying the salve, Ningguang reaches for the roll of fresh bandages. As she winds the soft material around Keqing’s mid-section, better than the Yuheng ever could alone, the Electro user seizes the opportunity to try to better understand the Tianquan.

“Your village,” Keqing says, in an attempt to distract herself, “you never talk about those days.”

“It was… a different time,” Ningguang begins, choosing her words carefully. As the bruised skin on her torso is slowly covered by neat strips of white, Keqing waits with bated breath. Almost like an afterthought, the Tianquan continues, “A different Ningguang.”

The Geo user looks up at Keqing through her lashes, meaningful in a way she can’t name. She's gone quiet. It takes the Yuheng a second to understand why; the bandages are finally secured around Keqing’s torso. However, she’s too transfixed on the way she’s being looked at to properly thank Ningguang just yet.

The Tianquan tucks a strand of loose silver hair behind her ear, almost bashful as she continues, “Honestly, it was a lifetime ago. It does not bode well to dwell on the past,” she rises to her full height once more, “besides… if I look back, I am lost.” A muscle ticks in Ningguang’s jaw, an almost imperceptible flinch that Keqing is fascinated by. It was but a snippet of those things Ningguang held close to her heart, something that could be exploited as a weakness if revealed before the wrong crowd.

But it was also a glimpse into her humanity.

The moment is lost, and Keqing is left with burning questions inside her. The Tianquan surveys her own work with a pleased look, “All done. See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Before Keqing can respond, Ningguang reaches out with her hand and-- and actually pats Keqing on the head, shortly followed by the soft scratch of her nails against her scalp. The corner of her lips quirks into a smile when she says, “That’s a good girl, Keqing.”

The unexpected caress sends liquid heat directly to her belly, and then some. For a few seconds, she’s too stunned to react. The words tickle like a flame, and part of her wonders if Ningguang is at all aware of the effect she can have on her, especially when tossing out such easy praise.  

Before Keqing can do something humiliating like lean into the touch, Ningguang draws back, and the moment is gone. The taller woman busies herself by putting all the supplies away, and Keqing uses the moment to dress herself once more. Ningguang’s wrapping job lets her breathe a little easier, and she’s glad for the Tianquan’s presence for once.

The lingering feeling from the head pat still has her insides buzzing, in ways she doesn’t want to examine and doesn’t dare name. Everything Ningguang ever did was deliberate, calculated in a way that seldom left room for misunderstandings… surely she knew exactly what she was doing? The effect her words and actions had on someone like Keqing? The teasing wasn’t new, it was just… working particularly well. She mustn’t let her guard down.

Keqing wants to question it, but finds herself too flustered to do so. Instead, she steps out of the bathroom, and tries to sound as nonchalant as she can, “A-anyway! With that out of the way… can we finish the funding proposal for the Stone Gate, like I asked?”

Ningguang sidles up beside her, that insufferable smirk back in place. She leans against the doorframe and tilts her head in the direction of Keqing’s modest living space.

“Of course. Please, step right into my office.”

Keqing fumes at the sarcastic shift to her words after such a charged moment. It also does not help that this asshole is referring to part of Keqing’s home as her office. Ningguang’s ridiculously large desk may occupy most of the space, but it was still her house dammit!

Yuheng Day would be the death of her.

Chapter Text

II

Keqing is uncharacteristically nervous as she and Ningguang work side-by-side in the living space of her home.

Although Ningguang tried to be aloof about it, she was just as much of a workaholic as Keqing. One did not rise to the position of Tianquan without being the first to rise in the morning and the last to retire for the night, for years and years, day after day. If she had to name it, Keqing figured that the big difference between them was that Ningguang was way better at pacing herself; she knew when to… you know, stop.

The Yuheng has to count to ten in her head for the umpteenth time. She wasn’t being as productive as she liked to be-- she blames it on the healing concoction she took earlier, and not the stupidly alluring way Ningguang stamps document after document. Who the hell looked good doing such a mundane thing, anyway?!

Apparently, the answer lay on the intruder in her home.

Had Ningguang’s presence always been this… disruptive? She wasn’t doing anything particularly noisy or unpleasant, but Keqing seemed attuned to her every move. Any little thing seemed to draw her eye-- like, it takes Keqing a solid minute to stop herself from staring at the way the older woman rolls her shoulders, baring her neck in the process.

Keqing has to make a conscious effort to keep her eyes glued to her own workstation. She goes as far as physically raising her hand to block out her view of Ningguang, as if it would stave off the non-work-related thoughts.

It doesn’t work.

Ningguang’s attacks on her person don’t stop there. Keqing can only watch as her coworker plays with her hair, so very casual, signing off on permits as she does. The Tianquan runs her fingers along the long locks and toys with the well-maintained ends. It’s got that windswept, gorgeous style-- Keqing wonders if it’s as silky as it looks. Far too often, Ningguang reaches up to expertly do and undo the elegant knot at the top of her head, and it never fails to completely snatch Keqing’s attention.

Their respective offices at Yuehai Pavilion were a healthy distance apart, so they rarely interacted in the day-to-day. Therefore, working in close quarters with the older woman was proving to be unusually challenging. Keqing cannot, for the life of her, figure out what was so-very captivating about the impossible woman, but she was slowly losing her mind.

Eventually, Keqing can’t take it anymore. She slams her pen against the dining room table where she’d set up shop.

“C-Can you not do that?”

“Not do what?” Ningguang blinks, a false show of innocence, given the playful rise of her smile, “Not exist?”

“No! You know exactly what you… what you’re… ugh!” Keqing rubs her temples, only managing to hurt herself in her confusion.

It doesn’t help that the painkillers she took earlier are making Keqing’s head swim. Maybe for the first time in her adult life, she longs for nothing more than the sweet release of unconsciousness. As a wee child, Keqing had actually asked her mother to stop with the daily naps, as even then she thought they interfered with her very important playtime. Keqing wishes she could partake in such a luxury now.

The sound of Ningguang drumming her fingers against the improvised desk drag her out of her thoughts, seemingly unable to keep still. Keqing suddenly understands what’s missing.

“You’re not going to smoke?”

Her pipe. That’s why she was fidgeting so much.

“Not without your permission, no.”

How… oddly considerate of Ningguang. Keqing is weirdly touched, despite it ultimately being but a show of basic courtesy. No wonder the familiar scent of tobacco was faint, and instead, Keqing’s senses were flooded by that of glaze lilies. She knew the perfume, for it was exclusively made by Ying'er, and sold to well-off ladies. It was the best money could buy in Teyvat. Fitting for Ningguang, really.

“You may smoke in here, if you like. I…” Keqing stands, enduring the small feeling of vertigo that washes over her. She has to blink several times to get the room to stop spinning. When it’s somewhat bearable, she adds, “I’m going to step out real fast, okay?”

Ningguang’s brows arch together in something akin to concern, “Are you alright?”

Keqing nods a little too fast, aggravating the woozy feeling in her head. She waves a dismissive hand towards the neat stack of papers she’d been working on, “That’s the proposed budget for the project at Stone Gate. Please look through it, and let me know if you have any questions.”

The Yuheng just about flees, her head pounding with every step. Her feet take her to her bedchamber, and she slides against the wall, dragging her hands down her face as she does. Doing so provides exactly zero relief, but at least she doesn’t have to pretend to be a functional person in front of another when she’s clearly unwell.

Keqing vaguely wonders what a pitiful image she must make, looking so defeated, hiding out in her room like this. The pain from her ribs is manageable, thanks to the medicine and Ningguang’s wrapping job, but now the lethargic feelings were creeping in.

Her days were usually tiring and extremely demanding, but never to this level of fatigue. Despite her condition, part of Keqing still rebelled at the notion of admitting she was unable to do something. Maybe… maybe she could find a way to temporarily deal with this. A few days ago, they had seized a bag of contraband coffee from Natlan, so she could use the caffeine to—

“This is some fine craftmanship. Why, Keqing, I did not know you had such good taste.”

Keqing lets out a startled yelp. The lazy drawl of Ningguang’s observation makes her spine snap upright.

Despite the painful squeeze of her insides at the sudden movement, Keqing manages to sound indignant, “Y-You followed me!”

She’s doubly mortified when she realizes what Ningguang is looking at-- one of her recently-acquired memorabilia of Morax. Keqing stumbled upon it during one of her travels. The moment the head of a well-known family of artisans showed it to her, the Yuheng knew immediately that she needed to take it home with her.

Unlike some of the other items she owned, this one was his dragon form, coiled around a small stone stele painted with clouds, each scale and whisker painstakingly carved by hand. The body is mostly made from a sheet of light iron, carefully accentuated by pieces of Cor Lapis, right on his belly and horns. Keqing was a huge fan of the crystal, for she found the fact that it was made from naturally condensed Geo element to be really neat. She actually liked to collect Cor Lapis whenever she stumbled upon it during her trips around Liyue.

“It’s truly an excellent Rex Lapis figurine,” Ningguang says, but her eyes narrow as she continues, “ah, I assume it’s meant to show him descending from the heaves for the Rite of Descension… hm, what a cursed day that was.”

“It’s--it’s for research purposes! A means of self-reflection… I don’t idolize him or anything.”

Keqing is immensely glad that Ningguang doesn’t pry. Honestly, she had no other defense other than her begrudging admiration for the Geo Archon and the itchy feeling in her bones to live up to his vision of Liyue, to make him… proud. After boasting her belief over and over that there was no need for gods, it was an embarrassing fixation to say the least.

“Very cute,” Ningguang murmurs, but then her eyes flit around Keqing’s room, every incriminating inch of it, “are all of these for research purposes?”

“Yes.”

Panicked, Keqing rises to her feet, albeit a bit unsteady. She can’t cover the many figurines that decorate her bedroom, nor make excuses for them, so she steers Ningguang by the shoulders towards her personal desk. There’s several pens inspired by the Geo archon, his many names etched in gold, but she hopes her coworker doesn’t comment on those.

Although Keqing tried really hard to maintain good work-life balance, sometimes both just blurred together. Not even her bedroom was safe from matters concerning Liyue’s business, no place seemed sacred anymore. The neatly compiled papers, bearing her handwriting and addressed to the Tianquan, could attest to that.

“Here’s the stuff I wanted your thoughts on,” Keqing says, proud of herself for preparing them before the Ruin Guard incident. At least Ningguang didn’t catch her completely off-guard so as not to have anything to discuss for their bimonthly meeting. She hands them off to the taller woman, “We can go over everything together, and—”

“Perhaps a break is in order,” Ningguang interrupts, completely ignoring everything she just said. Her wine-colored eyes seem to pierce straight through Keqing as she gives her a once-over,  “And you should take a nap. The medicine is clearly making you drowsy.”

So she noticed. The knowledge that Ningguang was keeping such a close eye on her wellbeing is a bit unnerving. Still, it does not mean Keqing is going to give in so easily to a break she doesn’t think she deserves. She huffs out a breath before saying, “I can’t just take a nap in the middle of the day!”

“Why not?” Ningguang counters, her tone dry. “Our beloved secretary religiously takes them every single day, and she’s the most efficient out of us all. We could learn a thing or two.”

Keqing chalked up those impromptu naps to the illuminated beast blood flowing through Ganyu’s veins. Perhaps it took a toll on the body that, as mere mortals, they simply couldn’t understand. Or… or Ganyu just liked curling up and getting some shut-eye. Either way, Keqing could not relate.

“This is something you can sleep off, I think. You’ll feel better,” Ningguang insists. She gets that menacing tone from earlier in the day, from when she was blocking the door so Keqing couldn’t slip past her and sprint all the way to Yuehai Pavilion.

In that no-nonsense way of hers, Ningguang goes over to the window and draws the curtains together. It’s not enough to envelop them in complete darkness --by no means was the material that thick-- and she can still see Ningguang. However, Keqing’s brain is tricked, and she gets that indescribable feeling of the drive inside her clocking out at the end of a workday.

Somehow --do not ask her how--  Keqing is bullied into her own bed, and Ningguang goes as far as wrestling her under the covers. To effectively pin her under the tightly pressed blankets, Ningguang parks herself beside her, but over the sheets.

“W-what the hell! I know you’re bossy, but this… this is outrageous,” Keqing splutters, still not sure how she got sandwiched there. It certainly doesn’t help how inviting her own bed is, how tempting it would be to simply close her eyes and…

She squirms under the covers, trying to dislodge Ningguang, but the older woman merely shoots her an unimpressed look and stays right where she is. It feels like her body works against her; she’s so weak that Keqing’s fairly sure she would not be able to untuck the other side of the sheets even if she really wanted to.

Her body has sided with Ningguang.

“Hmph. Ganyu is thousands of years older than us, and in her vast wisdom, she deems that it’s perfectly okay to have a mid-day nap,” Ningguang says, not even trying to hide the manipulative undertone to her words, “or do you claim to know better than a half-adeptus?”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Ganyu,” Keqing repeats, the guilt from before stirring up again. “I was so awful to her…”

“You were,” Ningguang agrees, but she’s not unkind when she continues, “please, do apologize at your earliest convenience… our dear secretary is quite sensitive.”

Ganyu’s crushed expression when Keqing told her off haunts her, even hours after. Suddenly, all fight seems to leave her body. The Yuheng lets her weight properly settle against the mattress, lets the tension melt from her shoulders. Maybe half an hour of rest wouldn’t be so terrible, and then she could get right back to work.

In her head, it sounds like a reasonable compromise.

Ningguang leans down then, and her whisper borders on conspiratorial, “Qingxin flowers are a good place to start.”

Keqing inwardly groans at the mere idea of climbing a ridiculously tall mountain in her present condition. She’s pretty sure she would cough up a lung if she managed to reach the summit of even the lowest peak… but that’s the place where Ganyu’s favorite snack was found.

Her tortured expression must be worse than Keqing thinks, because something merciful and unmistakably kind filters through Ningguang’s usual mask, the one that usually gave nothing away.

“This morning, my little birds advised that Bubu Pharmacy is to receive several bouquets fresh from Jueyun Karst,” Ningguang says, and Keqing knows that by little birds she means spies, “I can secure some Qingxin flowers for your apology, if you’d be so inclined.”

Huh. Since when did Ningguang freely offer up anything without vying for something in return? It just seemed incompatible with her usual cutthroat reputation.

“Why are you being so nice?” Keqing’s eyes narrow with suspicion.

Ningguang’s nostrils flare in mild offence, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Did the doctor tell you I’m going to die? Is this your attempt to settle our differences before I pass—”

“Stop being ridiculous.”

“Should I take up Hu Tao on one of her deluxe packages?”

“Keqing. You’re a perfectly healthy young woman, with a great many years ahead of you, so long as you pace yourself.”

“Then, why…?”

Ningguang sighs, a sound between resignation and clear exasperation. It must be Keqing’s imagination-- the way the older woman seems to duck her head to hide her face behind a curtain of silver hair.

“To quote you, dear Yuheng… the time of the adepti has long passed. Morax has left us to our own devices. And so, we must rely on each other,” Ningguang carefully conceals her face, but her words hold enough candor that Keqing believes every word, “contrary to what you might think, I am human. And I wish for a good relationship between us. There’s a long road ahead, and I’d rather have you by my side. Is that so hard to believe?”

The words tug at something inside her, and her eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Keqing can’t properly digest all that was said, and so she babbles, “There’s… there’s always something. You’re always scheming. I…”

Ningguang smiles, finally tilting her face towards Keqing in a way that doesn’t hide it. The sight of those lovely painted lips quirking up is enough for Keqing’s heart to start doing a series of annoying cartwheels inside her chest.

“Shh. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it. The workload of the day will still be here when you wake, I promise you.”

“I can’t just… I’m not… sleep doesn’t come so easily to me,” Keqing admits. Despite her body begging her for rest, she’s always found it hard to finally succumb to even such a basic necessity. She shifts to lay on her side, maybe not the best angle for her wounds, and tries to make her face as earnest as possible. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Ah. Are you after a bedtime story? Or perhaps something more… politically useful?” Ningguang leans against the headboard of her bed, tips her head back so Keqing can only see her silhouette in the dark. “Are you instilling this as an official tradition of Yuheng Day?”

Keqing knows she’s being teased, but she doesn’t have the heart to bicker right now. So all she manages is, “Whatever you want. As long as it distracts me. Please.”

“Well, how can I refuse when you’re so polite about it. Hm, let me think…”

Ningguang arranges her long legs under herself, gifting Keqing a brief view of the scarlet tattoo on her left thigh, visible through the light that filters in. The demented part of Keqing’s brain wonders if that’s all there was to it, or if the body art traveled up and wrapped around Ningguang’s body—

Don’t.

Keqing somewhat hides her growing blush under the covers, and prays to any god that would listen to get her fevered mind stop thinking such thoughts about her coworker. Thankfully, someone in Celestia listens, because Ningguang chooses that moment to start talking.

“You asked about… before. Before the wealth, before the palace in the sky,” Ningguang begins. Gods, Keqing would gladly hear her read off Wanmin Restaurant’s menu and still be delighted, her voice was just that alluring. Deep, and so-very captivating.

Don’t, she warns herself yet again. The medicine she took seemed to be heightening Keqing’s inner commentary, for she usually found Ningguang’s rich voice attractive, but never to the point that she actively thought about how much she liked it... also, the fact that she’s somewhat sharing a bed with Ningguang doesn’t escape her. The resulting chaotic thoughts must be a secondary effect of the medicine…. Keqing swallows, and vows not to interrupt.

“My beginnings, as you know, were not glamorous at all. I must have been around thirteen when I started to travel along Yaoguang Shoal, all the way to the harbor, trying to sell my wares on the way…”

If Keqing closes her eyes, which she does, she could perfectly picture the place Ningguang was describing, for she’d been there during her own travels. Situated in the eastern part of Liyue, it was quite the scenic route. A place of white sands, shallow waters of the deepest blue. It’s so vivid in her mind, that Keqing can almost smell the salty air and hear the crunch of Starconch being stepped on.

But it wasn’t without its dangers. It was quite the risky trek, especially to walk alone every single day. Besides the usual random assortment of monsters, Fatui agents were known to wander the strip of beach at their leisure. Their gutsy attitude drove Keqing mad.

To think a young Ningguang walked all the way to the south wharf, and without a Vision! Her Geo powers only manifested after she rose to power, making her feats all the more impressive.

“… the outskirts of Mingyun Village were not very safe back then. Sometimes, I had to take off my shoes so as not to alert the monsters lurking in the dark… beast and man alike,” Ningguang’s voice gets grave then, and even though her eyes are closed, Keqing can imagine her expression darkening. “Not every monster is a club-wielding maniac that speaks Hilichurlian. Sometimes, monsters shake your hand and promise you the world.”

Keqing knits her brows together, but she doesn’t dare speak. She just lets the words sink in. Ningguang’s way of… offering some insight into her personal life is something that Keqing treasures, but can’t presently dissect. Keqing fervently believed in humankind, as a whole, but she couldn’t lie and say Ningguang’s warning was without merit. They could be incredible assholes, too.

Somehow, learning that the all-powerful Tianquan used to travel barefoot around Yaoguang Shoal isn’t the most surprising thing in her day. This little snippet into Ningguang’s early days as a merchant makes Keqing almost… giddy, of being confided in. Although it wasn’t a secret, she can’t imagine that Ningguang really went around divulging such information to just anyone.

“I… admit I do not know where I am going with this, or why I’m telling you at all,” it was rare for Ningguang to sound sheepish, “but I suppose… inconsequential as that chapter is, I hope you can better understand me. Who I am, who I’ve always been.”

The Yuheng can barely nod her head in agreement, she’s so, so very tired. Keqing tries to crack one eye slightly open, but fatigue washes over her. Ningguang doesn’t prompt her for a response, she seems content enough just being listened to.

Keqing had her opinions about Ningguang --gods knew she had many-- but none of them took from her genuine admiration for the older woman. Everything Ningguang had, she’d fought for. Although Keqing strived to do the same, to rise and fall by her own merit, she was conscious that hailing from a noble family gave her an edge over others. Even so, she’s very pleased that she gets to shape the future by Ningguang’s side, as equals.

With remarkable ease, her breathing evens out, and Keqing’s racing thoughts finally seem to settle. Before she can fully slip into unconsciousness, Ningguang’s voice slices through the silence again.

“Did you ask this of me so I could bore you into a comfortable sleep?”

Keqing’s eyes snap open in alarm, “O-of course not! I greatly appreciate you sharing—”

“Heh. I jest, I jest. Hush, now.” Ningguang’s soft laugh relaxes her further, and Keqing barely startles as cold fingertips brush her bangs away from her eyes, coaxing them closed once more. “Rest now, dear Keqing. I’ll sort through your adorable complaints, and give you my comments when you wake.”

Keqing can’t muster the energy to get up in arms about the adorable complaints part. She allows the darkness to claim her, and dreams of mountaintops dotted with white flowers.

Chapter Text

III

When she wakes, Keqing feels much better.

That is, until Ningguang opens her mouth.

“You drool when you sleep.”

“Ugh,” Keqing grunts, far from surprised. She’d become so accustomed to the Tianquan’s presence that she’s not feeling the slightest bit disoriented that she’s still here.

In her room.

In bed. With her.

Keqing’s hand shoots up to wipe at her chin, ignoring Ningguang’s soft laugh beside her. The Yuheng is feeling so refreshed that she can’t even be pouty about the remark. Her headache is gone, and the pain of her ribcage is finally bearable. She blinks at the sunlight filtering in; at some point, her coworker drew the curtains open once more, to gradually wake her. The gesture is appreciated, but Keqing fears that she may have overslept.

Ningguang had kept watch over her instead of going back to work on that ridiculously large desk, the same that made for an eyesore in Keqing’s living room. The set of papers that Keqing handed her before drifting off are on Ningguang's lap, with marginal notes in red ink. Suddenly, Keqing becomes very aware that she’s technically sharing a bed with the Tianquan. Granted, the older woman sits primly over the covers, but still, Keqing can’t bring herself to care about appearances anymore. At the very least, she sits up so she can maintain whatever sense of propriety is left between them.

“Are you feeling better?” Ningguang asks. A clawed finger reaches out to poke her shoulder, playful, yet careful of her wounds. Keqing doesn’t flinch away. “Was my idea about taking a nap a good one?”

Keqing huffs, feeling very warm all of a sudden. She folds her arms under her chest, tips her head back so it meets the headboard. “Yes, yes. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Ha! It won’t kill you to give me some credit, you know.”

Instead of continuing to indulge this back-and-forth, Keqing decides to go for a question of her own. “Were you watching me this whole time?”

“Yes and no. Mostly, I was sorting through this,” Ningguang thumbs through the semi-thick stack of papers, looking a little miffed, “you had a lot of annotations for this month, hm?”

“I like to be prepared.”

Ningguang levels her with a curious smile then-- crooked and lovely, not her usual practiced one. “As soon as one meeting is done, do you immediately start planning the next?”

Keqing can’t help the furious blush that envelops her cheeks, for that’s exactly what she did. She just never seemed to run out of things to say to Ningguang. As soon as their bimonthly reunion was done, she started jotting things down for the next.

Instead of offering an answer, Keqing makes grabby hands at the reports. “Let me see.”

Ningguang’s handwriting is loopy, elegant-- fitting, yet opposite to Keqing’s blocky scribbles. Despite her noble upbringing, Keqing didn’t care much for bettering her writing, opting to be practical and concise instead. Ningguang had put great care into perfecting hers, and Keqing can’t help but wonder if it was like that in an attempt to distance herself from her humble origins.

The Tianquan’s notes are surprisingly good. She addresses each of Keqing’s points carefully and the answers to her concerns are more than enough to get a few projects going. Getting this much data out of Ningguang face-to-face would have been practically impossible, what with her constant taunts and haughty attitude never failing to derail them from the actual point.

This was, possibly, the best report of her life.

“Well? Do you find it satisfactory?” Ningguang says.

“I only wish you’d be this diligent towards me on the regular.”

“Sorry, Keqing. I only made an exception because it’s Yuheng Day,” Ningguang’s face is so serious, Keqing almost forgets the holiday is something entirely made-up by the older woman, “once you recover, rest assured I will go back to my usual antics.”

Keqing makes a sound between a gasp and a growl, “So you admit you do it on purpose!”

“I rather enjoy our chats,” Ningguang says mildly, “don’t you?”

“Chats? More like unending bickering.”

“Some say it’s a love language,” Ningguang shrugs, indifferent, while Keqing feels like she got smacked between the eyes. She can practically feel the flush on her face deepen, while the older woman looks completely unfazed.

Yes, she could be dense for some things, but even Keqing noticed when she was being flirted with. Ningguang loved to do so via teasing, usually, but it was never this… blatant. It completely catches her off-guard.

“A-a love-- Ningguang!”

“Yes?”

“You can’t just-! Why would you say that?”

Before the Tianquan can respond --something Keqing very badly wants her to do-- there’s a knock at the front door. A series of knocks. They’re loud, bordering on aggressive, like they want to tear down the door. The paranoid part of Keqing’s brain immediately urges her to reach for her Lion’s Roar.

What if it was a Harbinger?

When it’s nowhere to be found, it only serves as a grim reminder that her beloved sword was lost during the fight with the Ruin Guards. Keqing wonders if she would always be this jumpy around any sign of danger, as a result of what happened, or if things would ever go back to normal.

She also finds herself with the odd urge to protect the Tianquan, even though the rational part of her knew the Geo user was perfectly capable of defending herself. Keqing springs up from the bed and grabs her Vision. Without the Lion’s Roar, the Electro power would be difficult to channel, but not impossible. If it was that ginger boy from the Fatui…

Ningguang, for her part, seems unbothered by the violent knocking. She unfolds her legs from under herself, readying herself to go answer it.

Why is she…

Before she can think better of it, Keqing wraps her fingers around Ningguang’s delicate wrist, stopping her. Ningguang’s eyes travel from their joined hands up to meet her gaze, puzzled by her reaction, but she does not completely rise from the bed. She patiently waits for Keqing to explain herself.

“I’m not expecting anyone,” Keqing’s fairly sure the visitor can’t hear them, but it doesn’t stop her from toning down her voice to an urgent whisper, “do not answer it.”

Ningguang looks at her like she’s crazy. “Calm yourself. Lunch is here.”

“… lunch?”

“Hm… more like dinner. She’s late,” Ningguang gently pries Keqing’s hand away before she slides off the bed, “one moment.”

As Ningguang exits her bedchamber to get the door, Keqing’s gut instinct tells her to follow. She pads after the taller woman, being extra careful to conceal herself from whoever’s waiting. There’s a few gaps in one of the bookshelves that faces the foyer, so that’s where Keqing decides to spy from.

The visitor is taller than even Ningguang, at least six feet. His frame takes up a lot of the door, but Ningguang blocks enough of her view that it’s hard to tell. She can see some of the corded muscle on their arms, but not much else. Keqing clips her Vision to the back of her shirt, listening in for the mildest provocation.  

“… here ya go! Better than Uncle Sun’s overpriced stuff, if I do say so myself. Extra-crispy for her Eminence the Yuheng!”

Keqing almost has to do a double take at the cheerful, yet powerful voice that booms across her home. She’d heard it a handful of times, and Ganyu absolutely loved its owner. The height had deceived her; it wasn’t a man at all.

Captain Beidou!?

“I understand it’s a variant of grilled tiger fish,” Ningguang says. Keqing can’t see her face, but the disdain is clear in her voice. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah,  t’was easy-peasy. Just fried it with a little Electro, some seasonings… no wonder it gets Lady Keqing through her expeditions, stuff’s real nutritious. Might have to get my cook to learn and feed it to the crew,” Beidou pauses, and even from a  distance Keqing can tell she’s building up the tension to say something.

And say something she does.

“I need ’em strong to violate your funky little laws.”

Beidou bends over with laughter at her own jest --at least, Keqing hopes it’s a joke-- and Ningguang lets out a disgruntled sigh. If Keqing were in her right mind, she probably wouldn’t laugh-- but she’s not, she’s still concussed, and she muffles a little chuckle of her own behind her hand.

“Are you done?” Ningguang deadpans. “As in… are you quite finished?”

“Aw, so scowly today! Why’re you so serious?” Beidou asks. Ningguang doesn’t answer, but Keqing can perfectly picture the unamused look the pirate is probably being leveled with. As the silence stretches, it’s Beidou who suddenly realizes her misstep, “Oh! Shit. My bad. How’s your patient, Nurse Ningguang? I didn’t even ask.”

“In good spirits,” Ningguang says, which is generous, considering how snappy Keqing had been all day. The implication that Ningguang is her self-appointed caretaker also doesn’t fail to make Keqing blush.

“I’m glad to hear it! Chef Mao was talkin’ about what happened, heard the tale firsthand from his daughter… the Yuheng took quite the beating, huh?”

“I’m confident she will make a full recovery. But that hellish place needs to be wiped out,” Ningguang’s voice takes on that familiar, cold timbre. “Have you made the preparations I asked?”

“Still gathering the team. Lumine is in, so that’s good. She’s a one-person-army, that one. Ganyu, too. That Pyro lawyer said she’d get back to me, but I think it’s a yes from her?” Beidou shrugs, “Anyway, don’t worry. We’ll exterminate those stupid Ruin Guards and bring back the pieces to find out how they tick. That Harbinger crowd won’t make a fool out of Liyue ever again.”

Keqing’s eyes go wide. The prideful part of her longs to join the mission and exact her revenge, while the other part slumps with relief that she won’t have to set foot in that cursed place ever again. The Vision users that Beidou mentioned sounded more than capable of succeeding where she failed.

“Oh! And about that other thing you wanted… ” Beidou lets out a low whistle, and Keqing can hear her rummaging around, “It’s more Mora than I’ve ever seen in my life, let me tell you. Buuut! I still managed to get the idiot to sell it to me… well, technically, to you.”

“Was he difficult?”

“When he laid eyes on me, he pulled his lips back, like, baring his teeth, almost? Like a dog snarling. But when I flashed the medal you gave me with the Tianquan’s symbol, he started to smile real wide. He put it inside a case and everything.”

The sound of a coin being flipped indicates that the pirate is showing off said medal, and the abrupt silence that follows must mean she snatches it mid-air. Beidou chuckles, “Heh, I could get used to being treated this good, works like a charm. Maybe I’ll show this to the owner of the Pearl Galley and finally get that ugly thing out of my waters.”

“You will do no such thing. Hand over the token and my newest acquisition.”

“Come on, Ningguang! Make it… a birthday gift, for me? Last year, all you gave me were fines.”

“Your birthday isn’t for another eight months.”

“Urk, whatever. I’ll just sink it the old-fashioned way.”

This time, Ningguang does laugh. “Please, don’t. It’s bad enough I have to fish my life’s work out of the water. The Millelith are spread thin finding pieces of the Chamber every day.”

“The Millelith don’t do jack, but okay.”

Ningguang ignores her. “I don’t wish to add to their workload the task of saving angry aristocrats from drowning. So, please refrain from sinking that floating gentleman’s club.”

“Speaking of uptight rich people… any progress with the one that’s caught your eye?” Beidou says. It’s outstanding how all Keqing can see is Ningguang’s back, yet she can perfectly picture Beidou wiggling her eyebrows when she speaks, “You know, your method of courting someone leaves lots to be desired. You’ve been dancing around each other for months.”

“Beidou! She’s in the other room.”

Wait, wait, wait, what—

“I say this in good faith! Why, if you need some tips on how to woo a lady—”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m going to have to decline. Besides…” Ningguang’s voice gets icy,  “you know, from experience, that I’m perfectly capable of courting someone. Keqing just… needs a little push.”

Her name from the older woman’s lips makes Keqing’s knees buckle, and she almost knocks over a small Rex Lapis figurine from the shelf. Thankfully, she catches the little guy before he can shatter, clutches him close to her chest, as if the smiley clay figure could soothe her wildly beating heart. She’s very thankful that neither of the older women noticed the clumsy mistake.

“Also… need I remind you that you were the one draped over my lap only after our second meeting?” Ningguang isn’t pulling any punches, “I think I’m doing just fine. The… courting process simply depends on the person.”

“W-wow. Uncalled for. Um,” it’s the first time Keqing’s ever seen the usually-brazen captain close to flustered. Beidou’s heavy boots creak against the wood as she takes a couple of steps back from the Tianquan, “Anyway. Gotta go. I have a meeting with Yanfei about finding loopholes in that shitty tax you put on Fontaine imports. So, farewell. Give Lady Keqing my best!”

“A meeting about what—”

Captain Beidou takes her leave before either of them can figure out if it was another one of her jokes or not. At this point Keqing can’t tell. She wonders if Ningguang will order a tax audit on the finances of the Crux, or turn a blind eye. She suspects it’s going to be the latter, given their history.

But Keqing can’t think about tax evasion right now. Not with the newfound information about-- about Ningguang being interested in her. Unless she was seriously misinterpreting every single thing Captain Beidou just said… which would be embarrassing, not to mention a little devastating.  

Keqing spies Ningguang holding the wrapped package that must be the food --and another, longer one, about the size of a folded parasol, which the Tianquan leaves leaning against the doorframe. Keqing’s gaze travels up until she notices that there’s something interesting going on in Ningguang’s face.

She’s blushing.

*          *          *

Keqing tries to crush the giddiness fluttering in her chest. She scrambles back before she can be found out, but Ningguang doesn’t come back to the room. Instead, Keqing peeks back out to see her arranging two places on the low table. Part of her feels bad that she’s not helping at all, opting instead to watch as Ningguang struggles to figure out which cabinets and drawers contain which things, and failing constantly. To be fair, Keqing’s storage system was hard to understand to those that weren’t familiar with it.

She’d never thought of Ningguang as… cute. Hot and gorgeous usually came to mind, if one were to be as objective as possible. It was just an undeniable, factual statement, and Keqing wasn’t about to question such an universal truth… but as she watches Ningguang pick out a teapot to brew some tea in, Keqing can’t help but think her cute.

Keqing has the sense to put away the small Rex Lapis statue that had been anchoring her to reality for the last few minutes. Before joining the older woman, she dashes back into her room and splashes on some of her own perfume. Gods knew she was tired of looking like a hot mess in front of her coworker. Then, in record-time, she styles her mussed hair into her usual twintails, to at least pretend she hadn’t been napping for the better part of the day. Keqing considers covering some of the bruising on her face with makeup, but she can’t hear Ningguang messing around with the tea anymore, so she decides to just join her as is. Keqing nods at her own reflection in the mirror before walking back out, trying to play it cool.

“Was that Captain Beidou just now?” Keqing tries to sound casual, and not like a little kid that had been snooping, or someone that had just been putting great effort into looking presentable.

At the sound of her voice, Ningguang looks up. “Yes, she got the food.”

"Oh, did she? What's the menu today?"

“I considered getting those fancy shrimp balls you like, but… when I am unwell, I like to eat comfort food. I hope you don’t mind.” Ningguang’s smile is slightly anxious, the kind that could be damning in a negotiation. The giddy feelings from before flood Keqing once more, delighted that Ningguang seems to be letting her guard down around her.

The taller woman gestures at the setup on the table. The tableware is mismatched, the tea is hot, and a large fish sits on a bed of rice. “I asked around, and… Ganyu said it’s something of a signature dish of yours, so I enlisted Beidou’s help. Hmph, Electro users are ridiculously hard to come by.”

Keqing’s limbs feel heavy as she makes her way to the seats, almost on autopilot. Her legs don’t give out from under her, but she does drop down a little too fast. Ningguang, for her part, lowers herself with all the grace in the world. Keqing stares blankly ahead, completely overwhelmed by the sweet attention to detail, and Ningguang mistakes her silence for confusion.

“It’s that horrible fish you make,” Ningguang supplies, looking so earnest Keqing almost forgets to be offended. It takes a couple of seconds to regain the ability to speak again.

“… this doesn’t look anything like my fish,” Keqing says, “and what do you mean by horrible?!”

“You cook it using your Vision, do you not? I find such method appalling.”

“It’s what’s available in the wild,” Keqing says, defensively. A portable stove existed, but it was single-use and entirely unreliable, but Keqing doesn’t feel like delving into detail. She can’t help but grimace when she sneaks another look at their lunch. “Um. Did Beidou stomp on it before cooking it?”

“I’ve no idea.”

Beidou’s version of her dish looks more like roadkill than an actual cooked meal. Keqing usually kept the fish together with her trusty hairpin, but Beidou didn’t do that, so guts and bones leak and poke out in places they shouldn’t. The Yuheng took great care to leave the skin flaky and delicious, while Beidou just… seemed to wing it.

Ningguang wrinkles her nose and brings forth her chopsticks, pokes around the fillet --could they even call it that anymore?-- and chooses a piece. Instead of bringing it up to her own lips, she offers it to Keqing.

“It’s Yuheng Day. You go first,” Ningguang’s tone is singsong, probably because she’s so pleased that she can do whatever she wants on her made-up holiday. The piece of fish lays limp and pinched between her chopsticks, and it’s dripping... something. Ningguang inches it closer, “Open up.”

Before the order can pass through all the proper filters in her brain, Keqing’s lips part obediently. She doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about following the command so easily, for the small piece gets deposited on her tongue.

And so, Keqing is the first to brave a bite.

She expects it to be chewy and taste just as bad as it looks, but it’s surprisingly… edible. Not slimy or rubbery, but honest-to-gods decent. There’s a smokiness to it that Keqing can greatly appreciate. Of note, there was some sort of spice in there that doesn’t go undetected… typical of Captain Beidou, if what Xiangling said about the pirate’s taste was anything to go by.

It was pretty good, actually.

Ningguang gauges her reaction carefully, her brows slightly arched as she asks, “Good?”

“Mhm.” Keqing swallows the last of it, and before she can think better of it, opens her mouth again. Some far-off corner of her mind burns with embarrassment at having Ningguang feed her, but the aforementioned woman doesn’t seem to mind. She obliges her invitation and plops in another piece.

And another. And another.

They remain in that easy trance for longer than what should be acceptable between colleagues, between associates… even between friends. Keqing doesn’t even try to grab her own utensils. Something about Ningguang doing it is just… so very nice.

Uh-oh.

Long past the point of it being socially acceptable, Keqing ducks her head away to indicate that she’d had enough. About half of the fish remained, and she didn’t want Ningguang to go hungry.

“You had the Captain go through all that trouble,” Keqing says, “you must try it, too.”

Ningguang makes a face, like Keqing just asked her to eat the boiled sole of a shoe. Manners be damned, Keqing grabs her own set of chopsticks and spears through one of the pieces, then holds it up for Ningguang to eat. Part of her feels silly --why the hell was she trying to feed the perfectly capable Tianquan?!-- but the rest of her is immensely pleased when Ningguang opens her mouth a fraction.

It’s not exactly welcoming, but Keqing appreciates the effort. She deposits the dubious food inside, and waits for the final verdict. The older woman takes her time to chew, but she keeps her face carefully neutral until she swallows the fillet.

When she doesn’t say anything, Keqing finally decides to prompt her. “Thoughts?”

“It’s… not as revolting as it looks,” Ningguang allows, “but don’t tell Beidou. Her ego must be kept in check.”

Keqing laughs despite herself. They delve into another easy silence, but this time Keqing is the one that feeds the rest of the fish to Ningguang. It is extremely difficult to ignore the glaring romantic undertone to what they’re doing, but for the life of her, Keqing cannot bring herself to care. The minty tea is lukewarm by the time they get to it, but neither comment on it. The atmosphere they have created is so nice, that the last thing on Keqing’s mind is the interrupted workday.

And gods only knew what that meant for a workaholic of her stature.

*          *          *

“Seriously, you must tell the captain she did well. The fish was pretty good,” Keqing says, at least an hour later. After not helping out on setting the table, Keqing is the one doing the cleanup. She’s elbow-deep in soapy water, with a particularly chatty Tianquan by her side.

Ningguang snorts into the almost-cold teacup she holds between clawed fingers, “You’ve no idea what such praise would do to her already large ego. Beidou’s such a menace,” she says that, but her words drip fondness.

“Then I’ll have to make you my version sometime,” Keqing says, and the words slip out so easily that she almost completely misses the implications behind it. She almost wishes she could hide her head inside the foamy water of the dishes she’s washing, but it’s too late; the offer is already out into the world.

The smile that immediately lights up Ningguang’s face is teasing, catlike. “You’re going to cook for me?”

Keqing scoffs, puts away the last washed plate. “After everything you’ve done for me today, I think cooking my horrible fish, as you so put it, is the least I can do.”

“I really am a saint, aren’t I?” Ningguang’s theatrical sigh is way too drawn out to be interpreted as anything but a light joke. It’s officially confirmed by the small giggle Ningguang lets out right by the end, reflecting the good mood she’s in.

Cute.

Keqing barks out a laugh of her own, “And modest, too.”

“Oh! Now that you mention it… there is one last thing.”

She follows the older woman across her home and right to the front door. Keqing feigns surprise as Ningguang goes to fetch the mystery package that Captain Beidou brought. From size alone, it could very well contain a parasol. It would make for a very random item to bring here, but Keqing knew better than to make fun of the Tianquan’s ideas.

As the Geo user joins her once more, Keqing starts to have doubts. Ningguang carries the dark case with such deference that the Yuheng’s theory about it housing a parasol grows less and less likely. By the time Ningguang holds it between them, she has no idea what it could possibly contain.

“Now, this is a leap of faith that Beidou did as I asked… I didn’t actually check the contents. Let us hope she got it right…” Ningguang hands over the case, which is lighter than Keqing originally thought. “It’s all yours.”

She opens it.

At first, Keqing thinks it’s a Skyrider sword. The popular legend that was passed down spoke of a master swordsman that attempted to fly around Jueyun Karst using said weapon. Every time he failed, he would sell the broken sword, causing a lot of copies to be made. Nowadays it was pretty common, a decent pick, but nowhere close to how good her Lion’s Roar had been.

But… Skyrider swords were not as intricate. They looked kind of blocky, and the minerals used were relatively cheap. The one being offered to her, the pristine shine of it, the quality of the material, so wickedly sharp… this was jade.

Keqing feels her eyes go impossibly wide.

Before settling on a spear, Rex Lapis once walked the land with a sword hewn from jade. Primordial Jade Cutter is how it was known nowadays. Weapons made from the precious material are some of the best, and their origins could be traced to the founding of Liyue. She knows that the boy-adeptus, Xiao, was entrusted with the polearm version of this weapon, the jade winged-spear.

Keqing’s gaze snaps up, her jaw suddenly tight. “A-are you crazy? This is… this…”

“A sword,” Ningguang quips, all nonchalance, “for you.”

Keqing’s family was well-off, by no means were they struggling, but they did not come close to the wealth of the Tianquan. From the conversation she overheard with Captain Beidou, Ningguang had secured this marvelous blade… just for her. Keqing’s heart soars, and has a mild crisis, all at once.

“They say that when Liyue first arose, it was Rex Lapis that, that-- hold on, hold on. Where did you even get this?!” Keqing’s a bit too awestruck, her voice is cracking, but she does her best to sound serious. “This… the legendary Primordial blade! This is priceless.”

Ningguang lets out a huff, “That, it is not. Believe me, I paid a hefty sum for it.”

Keqing feels unworthy as her green-tinged reflection stares back at her, as her clammy hands hold the ceremonial sword as if it were a newborn. It was absolutely the most finely crafted blade she’d ever laid her eyes on, let alone her hands.

“You’re giving this to me?”

“I’m getting really tired of repeating myself, Keqing.”

“Is this a trick? You want me to be indebted to you, is that it?”

Ningguang laughs, but the sound is hollow. Actually, she looks a little wounded at Keqing’s accusation, and the laugh was meant to mask it. The mistrustful Yuheng immediately feels bad. Before she can take it back, Ningguang says, “I do not want you to feel like you owe me a thing. It’s a gift. I’ll sign a waiver and everything, if it makes you feel better.”

Keqing scowls at the offer, but is quite touched that it was even made. To say this weapon was rare would be an understatement. She knew Ningguang’s own catalyst to be an outlandish weapon too, Memory of Dust it was called, said to be connected to the gods Guizhong and Morax. How the Tianquan had the Mora, let alone the connections to acquire such weapons, would never stop blowing Keqing’s mind.

If Ningguang is still disappointed at Keqing’s distrust, she quickly hides it behind an amicable smile and more words of affirmation, “Please, just take it. In fact, give it a try. Show off for me?”

“But… ah, okay. Sure.”

Reluctantly, Keqing removes the precious sword from the velvety cushion, puts the case nearby. It irrationally feels like defiling something that belonged in a museum. But the weapon she now holds is anything but brittle. She holds it up to the light, marveling at how it had retained a polished sheen despite being so ancient, after causing so much bloodshed. The grip is excellent, and it even feels perfectly balanced, like it was made for her. The idea that Rex Lapis held this sword once upon a time makes Keqing’s chest feel tight in all the best ways.

When she gives an experimental slice across empty air, a small surge of Electro power crackling as she does, Ningguang honest-to-gods claps. Keqing can’t even be embarrassed; being on the receiving end of Ningguang’s approval never failed to completely embolden her like nothing else did.

“… I’ll accept this,” Keqing says, slowly, lowering the weapon, “if you let me do something in return.”

“Oh?” Barely-restrained amusement shines through Ningguang’s usual mask, paired with surprise. Perhaps she was used to people greedily accepting her goodwill without getting anything in return.

Keqing feels like she just had a mouthful of Xiangling’s spiciest dish-- her entire face suddenly feels like it’s on actual fire, but she manages to speak, and meet Ningguang’s eyes when she does, “I am taking you out to dinner. As… as thanks.”

“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”

Keqing tries really hard not to gnash her teeth as she shoots back, “If you’re going to be insufferable about it—”

“—I’ll gladly have dinner with you, Keqing. Thank you.”

“No, no,” Keqing says, “thank you for the gift. And… and for taking care of me today, despite my attitude. I… don’t know if I’ve said that. Sorry if I hadn’t.”

“Mm! You are very welcome!” When Ningguang beams at her, with one of those genuine smiles that sometimes felt rarer than a Glaze lily in the wild, something warm and unfamiliar blooms in Keqing’s chest.

Keqing looks at her. She really, really looks at Ningguang. And she doesn’t see the all-powerful Tianquan, the goddess in the sky, that ruthless merchant that annihilated her competitors. She only sees the woman who launched her life’s work to the face of an ancient god to save everything and everyone, the same who sold her wares barefoot along the shore. She sees the one person who managed to worm their way inside Keqing’s stubborn streak, and help heal not only her body, but also her soul.

The Yuheng squares her shoulders, forces herself to meet Ningguang’s scarlet gaze.

“Wait-- wait, no. I take it back,” Keqing bites out.

The lovely smile slips from Ningguang’s face, replaced by a look of confusion. “You… take back your thanks?”

“There’s-- there’s a Yuheng Day tradition to show gratitude. You probably don’t know about it,” Keqing’s cheeks burn from how ridiculous she feels, from entertaining Ningguang’s made-up game and adding her own twist.

Thankfully, the older woman seems to go along with it, “Oh? Do tell. I’m rather fond of Yuheng Day, you know. Very respectful of its practices.”

Keqing’s hands feel extra sweaty, and she tightens her grip on the hilt of the costly sword, like she could absorb the courage she needed just from holding it. If Keqing was reading their interactions wrong, if Ningguang’s subtle clues weren’t what she was thinking…

Ultimately, Keqing isn’t all that brave. “You need to close your eyes for it,” the Yuheng says.

And Ningguang does. Keqing feels a split second of regret at not asking her to lean down a little, but she opts to improvise. She carefully puts away the Jade Cutter, conscious that it may very well cost more Mora than she would ever see in her lifetime. With the same care, she grabs the fur around Ningguang’s elegant collar and tugs her down.

To her credit, Ningguang’s eyes don’t fly open at the maneuver. Instead, as Keqing invades her personal space, she is greeted with a dopey little smile. As always, the older woman probably anticipated the Yuheng’s plan. She would usually feel irked at being so predictable, but not now.

Not for this.

She closes the distance between them.

Keqing meant for the kiss to be chaste, a sweet peck, but Ningguang’s lips chase hers as she’d started to pull away, drawing her in for longer, more passionate contact. Ningguang responds with so much enthusiasm that it simply must be deepened.

Keqing doesn’t mind.

She winds her arms around Ningguang’s neck, urging her closer, completely overwhelmed by how this was actually happening. Keqing’s buzzing brain can’t seem to focus on only one thing-- so many details she’d always wondered about were finally getting answers. Yes, Ningguang’s hair was as silky as it looked. Yes, those lips were good for things other than smirking all-knowingly. Yes, kissing Ningguang was now her favorite activity in the world.

Eventually, the need for air demands they part.

“There… t-that’s the proper way to show gratitude on Yuheng Day,” Keqing is so flustered that she actually feels pride that the sentence was coherent at all.

Ningguang’s chuckle is throaty, and Keqing flushes with relief that she didn’t get it wrong. She may have been slow to catch on --and maybe Beidou spelling it out had helped-- but she’s glad she took the plunge. The Tianquan’s eyes hadn’t sparkled like this in a long time... maybe since the Jade Chamber was sacrificed.

“Thank me again,” Ningguang breathes, still so close that Keqing could close the gap between them with minimal effort.

“Greedy woman,” Keqing protests, but her smile mirrors that of the Tianquan.

She pushes herself up on her tiptoes and honors the very sacred tradition of thanking someone on Yuheng Day.