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The more Hu Tao passed by that statue, the more she noticed that it bore somewhat of a resemblance to her consultant.
Of course, it was a coincidence. Rex Lapis had died months ago, struck down at the Rite of Descension in a fury of palpitating Geo energy. Hu Tao hadn’t been there personally, but she had heard enough chatter about it to have the whole scope of the situation.
Still, she couldn’t shake that odd feeling that came every time she attempted staring into the eyes of the Statues of the Seven. How the way the Lord of the Rock cradled a square of marble seemed eerily similar to how Zhongli held the ceremonial trinket box where Hu Tao kept trial materials for those choosing items for funerals. How the tufts of marbled hair visible under Rex Lapis’ hood resembled how Zhongli parted his hair, and how the sigil draped across the statue’s legs reminded her of the one emblazoned onto the back of Zhongli’s jacket.
Her consultant, she thought, was an interesting man, trying to emulate someone who was already long-dead. Maybe this was his way of remembering the Archon.
“Zhongli, he’s not gonna know you’re dressing up like him, you know,” She had once told him, on a jaunt to Wanmin Restaurant, “Why don’t you try a different style someday?”
Zhongli had merely laughed at her, giving her one of those wise-as-ever looks, “Over the years, I’ve come to find this style appealing. However, perhaps in the future, you may help me pick out some new attire.”
Hu Tao sighed, stopping by the Statue once more on her way back to Liyue Harbour after an out-of-town funeral. She ran her hands along the polished marble - cold, as if withering away like Rex Lapis’s corpse over the years - and glared up at the faceless figure, so haughty in it’s throne.
“Hey,” she began. A part of her thought it worthless, to ask something of a dead god, but perhaps his spirit was still lingering somewhere, “Can you do me a favour, Rex Lapis? Could you… tell Zhongli that he’s wasting his time? And that… he needs a new hobby. See, I may just be his boss, but I care about his wellbeing too. I think… he’s a bit hung up over you. So if some part of you is still there, could you do that for me?”
Silence. It seemed Hu Tao’s previous theories were incorrect - Rex Lapis wasn’t lingering around anywhere.
She kicked a stray stone from her path, and began to follow the fleeting butterfly back to the Harbour.
…
That night, Hu Tao dreamed.
Her dreams rarely held significance, of course. Usually they involved some carefree, listless memories, or a twist of the bizarre - sometimes, she would see her grandfather again, and awaken in tears, and sometimes it would be people she met on Liyue’s streets.
Tonight was no different. This time, she was perched on the summit of Mt Tianheng, observing the bustling streets, swinging her legs off the edge of the cliff. Beside her sat Zhongli, who gave her an inquisitive look, and cleared his throat.
“Director, are you familiar with the concept of time being circular?”
“Time? Why now?” Hu Tao giggled - Zhongli was a perplexing character, sometimes, even in her dreams. “Are you going through some sort of mid-life crisis? Oh, come on, you can’t be that old, right?”
He fell silent for a few moments, and for a split second she thought she saw great crystalline structures shimmering through Zhongli’s eyes, all shattering into the smallest of pieces - butterflies. Her butterflies. Beautiful, but fleeting memories.
“Time comes for all of us. Sometimes these forces must start anew to create change. A metamorphosis.”
His steely gaze returned to the town, and Hu Tao lurched in horror at seeing what had happened. Everything was aflame. In a vortex of fire and brimstone, the town she’d been born and raised in, everything burnt and charred right before her eyes.
“Zhongli?!” She yelped, her stare flashing back to him like a startled deer - but he was gone. All that remained was the rising flames, licking at the earth, singing up and up and up and before Hu Tao could think she was-
…
She jolted awake in a cold sweat and was met with silence.
It took a few moments for reality to set in, and for relief to seep through her. Right. That was just a dream. A stupid, silly little dream, where Hu Tao’s imagination had run laps around her. Hu Tao let out a shaky chuckle, desperately trying to gain her bearings back.
When she eased open the window, she realised the day was well into swing already and leaped out of bed. Faintly she recalled that by now she should have been in a meeting with a grieving family trying to organise a funeral for their son.
Shit - I hope they don’t get too mad. Whatever, Wangsheng’s the best funeral parlour anyway! They’ll never find anyone else if I get to the parlour in time.
With record speed and precision, Hu Tao arranged herself for the day. Despite the fact that she hadn’t been timing her morning routine, today did feel a lot more fast paced. She winked in the mirror at herself as she adjusted her trademark hat onto her head, but in this moment of tranquility her mind began to drift back towards that dream again.
Hu Tao gritted her teeth and decided to just focus on getting to the Parlour. Surely later she could ask Zhongli about it - he seemed to be an expert in most things she brought up. Is there anything he can’t do?!
The minute she stepped outside her door, she was greeted by the clamours and frantic murmuring of the passersby. At first, she wondered if she’d accidentally violated the law once again, but one glance at the sky disproved that. Was it just her, or was it getting far too dark far too quickly?
There was no time to properly react. A great meteor of gold and black tore through her vision, and upon impact exploded in a blaze of fire and fury that she was lucky to only be slightly singed by. Wails and screams began to echo through the streets as people reeled from the impact, and realised that more were on their way. Her heart thudded against her chest as she just barely made out the outline of a crushed body under a meteorite shard, and Hu Tao tore her gaze away in an instant.
This couldn’t be happening. In fact, this was an impossible circumstance. But Hu Tao couldn’t deny it anymore when a sickening creak broke her from her trance and she glanced up to see the building threatening to collapse on her.
She had to run.
But to whom?
Of course, it was a no-brainer, and if this wasn’t doomsday, Hu Tao would have chastised herself for not remembering sooner. She needed to get to the Parlour, make sure all her employees were safe. Zhongli would be there. Zhongli would know what to do.
Biting back a cough as ash seared her lungs, Hu Tao sprinted through the crumbling streets. She didn’t need to look. Not at the blood, not at the corpses, not at the split-second where human lives were decimated in an instant. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Faintly, her thoughts recalled it - butterflies. Human lives, wiped away with the beat of a butterfly’s wing.
Another blast echoed behind her, and Hu Tao screamed.
Not just from horror, but from raw pain - a piece of debris had broken away, lodged itself in her leg. Still, despite the pain, the Parlour was only metres away. Hu Tao willed herself not to look down, to just ignore the blood and keep pushing on, and continued stumbling blindly.
Was this some sort of karmic retribution, maybe? Was it the result of her nonchalant attitude towards death, at least, how it had always seemed? Surely not - but Hu Tao couldn’t shake the disturbing feeling that part of the fault lied with her.
Wait - there in the distance, there stood a figure Hu Tao recognised. Her heart soared at the sight of her consultant, seemingly unscathed by the destruction.
“Zhongli!” She yelled, as loud as her lungs allowed, “Can you help me?!”
Hu Tao’s smile gradually faded as Zhongli let the silence stretch longer. What was he doing over there that was more important?
That smile became a frown as he came closer, and she noticed the gold painting his skin.
A litany of gilded sigils sprawled across his face, his arms that gripped his polearm steadfast, and those eyes gleamed with a cold hunger Hu Tao had never seen before.
That was a lie. Hu Tao had seen those eyes in her dream.
“...Zhongli?”
Hu Tao wished Zhongli had looked disapproving, even furious at her. Anything compared to how completely blank his expression was.
“...Why are you looking at me like that? This isn’t funny anymore… everything’s… I’m...”
Hu Tao’s eyes widened as the blade of his polearm tilted her chin upwards.
Every sense seemed laser-focused on that sensation. On the sensation of someone she considered close to her, staring at her down the hilt of a blade. Her throat parched, desperately trying to remember a time when Zhongli’s glances to her were amicable, were comforting, and were regarding her as more than a stranger. Not even that - a time where there was real emotion behind those golden eyes of his.
“Hey… you’re not actually gonna… are you?”
Hu Tao wished she could say for certain Zhongli wasn’t going to hurt her. Shakily, her hand clamped around the blade and shoved, only to be met with an inhuman force quickly overtaking it. Now both hands gripped onto the blade, trembling, marred with her blood. Through tears, Hu Tao stared imploringly up at him again, trying to will some sense into Zhongli.
“Zhongli… you can’t. Please put it down, I-” unable to bear the sight of those broken crystals, Hu Tao wrenched her stare towards her palms. Those explosions were getting louder. Everything was growing louder, so, so incredibly loud.
The sound of blood pumping and her own sobs screamed through her ears. Hu Tao wasn’t expecting to feel so fragile.
“Zhongli,” Hu Tao exclaimed in earnest. “Just… just know that I… I…”
I cared about you. You meant a lot to me. I wish that I could have meant more to you.
Hu Tao’s breath catches in her throat. She’s impaled with ease. She’s a butterfly, fleeting, once fluttering on the wind only to be struck down mercilessly. Her life will end for nothing.
No. There’s more she wanted to say to him. There’s a lot more she wanted to say. I don’t have time to say any of it, she thought dimly, as her breaths become laboured and as cool steel ever so slowly slides out of her. Her heart lurched as the blade slid out of her, sick to her stomach.
With those breaths, short as a butterfly’s flight, she resolved to utter those final words to him.
“Thank y-”
Her chest shuddered as Zhongli kicked her aside, and didn’t look back as he strode away.
The butterfly met its end, as all butterflies do - alone.