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It was long past dinner when Zhongli came knocking on his office door.
“Childe, Ekaterina told me that you were still in your office,” Zhongli’s voice, low and comforting, traveled clearly through the thick sandpaper wood. “May I come in?”
“Please do,” Childe responded, and he didn’t even need to see Zhongli to know he was smiling.
It was odd, Childe thought as he watched Zhongli enter, the way they talked through the door. The very architects that built Northland Bank had informed him upon his arrival in Liyue that each room of the Bank had been expertly soundproofed, to ensure the privacy of its members and seal away the secrets of the Fatui. Yet, Zhongli never had any trouble hearing him. Must be the draconic part of him, he concluded.
“Another late day?” Zhongli asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Some of our dearly appreciated patrons will do anything to squirm their way out of paying their debts on time,” Childe grumbled, closing a folder only to pick up another. “I’m this close to swallowing my pride and contacting that library witch for advice. Apparently, Mondstadt’s Library hasn’t issued a late book fee since she took over. If only our Northland Bank could be so lucky.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Zhongli edged closer to his side and started to sift through the pile of papers peeking off the right-side on his desk.
As tempting as Zhongli's offer was, Childe knew he couldn’t accept. “Oh gods, no. If it got out that I let the ex-geo archon look through Fatui dealings, I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Not even as a consultant?” Zhongli glanced at him, amber eyes wide and questioning. Childe groaned; with puppy-eyes as good as those, it was hard to believe that the man beside him was actually a thousand-years old Adepti. He was just too darn cute.
“Nope ~ ” Childe smirked playfully and, seeing that Zhongli was distracted, he made his move to snatch back his papers from Zhongli’s hands. However, he was far too hasty, and only succeeded in knocking his work all over the floor.
Childe immediately jumped out of his seat, but Zhongli just shook his head and gently pushed him back down.
“I’ll handle it. Feel free to continue your work.” Zhongli knelt to the floor and started to reorganize the scattered files. He was making good headway when he suddenly paused, his hand extended mid-air to pick up another loose sheet of paper. Inquisitively, he peeled the paper off the ground and examined it. Then he turned the paper towards Childe, so he could see the document as well.
“Childe, why do you have this?”
One glance at the paper in question had the tips of Childe’s ears burning up.
“It’s a gift,” he muttered, willing the floor to turn into a great hydro vortex and swallow him whole, “for Teucer.”
Zhongli looked at him, finally tearing his eyes away from the sheet of paper. “Your youngest brother?”
“Yes,” Childe grimaced. “You know how he believes I’m a toymaker, right? Well, he wanted something to remember me by while I was away from home, so I drew this up for him. I was hoping I could employ a local tailor for the job.”
“And what exactly is…this?”
Childe tried not to take that as a subtle jab to his artistic skills. “A narwhal. You’ve probably never seen one before, since it can only be found in Snezhnayan waters. It’s a great horned whale – shaped almost like a dolphin. A family of five could sustain itself for a month on its blubber alone.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” Zhongli replied, and he stood up, brushing the dust off his perfectly-pressed slacks, “though you are correct in your assumption that I’ve never seen one before. Unfortunately, it’s been a long time since the Tsaritsa has allowed me into her territory.”
“I wonder why,” Childe teased. He was eager to take a break from being on the wrong side of an embarrassing interrogation, and happy to have the chance to turn the tables on Zhongli. “Maybe you’re a bad house guest.”
“Hmm,” Zhongli rubbed his chin, playing along. “Perhaps.”
“Did you make sure to take your boots off before leaving the palace entryway? It’s bad luck, y’know, to track snow inside.”
Zhongli chuckled, low and warm, and Childe’s heart skipped a beat. “International relations aside, I do have another question.”
Childe swallowed thinly. “Shoot.”
“Why a narwhal? Is Teucer especially fond of them?”
Childe hesitated for a moment. Would his answer be considered treason? No, that’s foolish – it wasn’t like it was a secret, anyway. “It’s an ability of mine. Using my vision, I can create hydro mimics that I command on the battlefield. Most of the time, these attacks take the form of a narwhal – with some minor modifications to maximize damage, of course. You could even call it my ‘signature move’.”
“I’ve shown it to Teucer before, and he really took to the idea,” Childe continued. “He even requested the creature by name when asking for the toy. Given the circumstances – with most Liyueans being unaware what a narwhal is and my attack being the only way to show it to them – well, you can imagine why I had to draw the sketch myself.”
“Interesting.” Zhongli’s face took on that contemplative look he was fond of wearing, and the familiarity of it all almost made Childe forgot his embarrassment entirely. Almost. “Could you order two?”
Childe sputtered. “W-What? Zhongli, you can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Zhongli did, in fact, not look like he was joking. That was what made Childe worried. “Your design is cute, and the sentiment behind the act is quite charming. Is it so unusual to want one for myself?”
“Yes! It’s just, uhm – Zhongli, it’s – I – ” Childe was so flustered; it felt like his brain was melting. Zhongli, the thousands-year old archon, the beautifully intelligent man who had conquered his heart like child’s play, wanted a plushie of his stupid, little narwhal design.
“It’s okay,” Zhongli, always so put-together, calmed him with steady lull of his voice. “Just continue your explanation."
Childe huffed, recomposing himself. Fine.
“This narwhal – ” Childe fully knew how ridiculous he sounded right now. “ – is, like, a representation of me.”
“I’m aware.”
“Like, if I were – hypothetically speaking – a stuffed animal, I would be this narwhal.”
Zhongli nodded sagely. “I understand.”
Childe felt heat rush to his cheeks, and he was both endeared and baffled by Zhongli’s seeming inability to get the point. “So, you’re basically asking me to order you a plushie of me.”
“That is my request, yes.”
“Zhongli!” Childe dropped his head into his hands. “Don’t you see why I can’t do that?”
Zhongli regarded him with a sort of quiet curiosity. “No, I don’t. Didn’t you also buy a plushie of me?”
“Shut it!” Childe was definitely not pouting right now. No way. “That’s different! It wasn’t like I knew you were Rex Lapis.”
“Funny,” Zhongli smiled, and it went all the way up to his eyes, “because, if my memory serves me correctly, I recall that you still keep it on your bed.”
Childe took one slow, blinking moment to let Zhongli’s words sink in. “Hey! See if I invite you into my private quarters again, if you’re going to dredge stuff up like that!”
At the indignant turn of his head, Zhongli laughed – an inelegant snort that he hid behind his gloved hand. Unwillingly, Childe felt himself settle, a laugh bubbling out of his own throat.
It was ridiculous, the way Zhongli could do just about anything, and it would turn his whole heart around. Childe could best describe the phenomenon as such: like the snow-capped mountain ranges of Jueyun Karst, Zhongli was awe-inspiring – and that alone just made all his worries seem trivial.
Opening the top drawer of his desk, Childe brought out a pouch of mora and tossed it to man beside him. Zhongli, owing to his battle-honed reflexes, caught it easily. “Take that with you. I’m sure you can find somebody to fill the order. I trust your expertise.”
It was with a smile that Zhongli bid a temporary farewell to partner.
To nobody’s surprise, Childe didn’t make good on his earlier threat to ban Zhongli from his private quarters. A short few hours later, and they were both back in his bedroom, with Zhongli holding the spoils of his venture: the narwhal plushie.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I had the order rushed.” Zhongli sat down, crinkling the crimson sheets of his bed. Ironic, considering that Zhongli was the one who always insisted on his bed being perfectly made. “I also recruited a courier to deliver the other plushie to Teucer; I can give you their details later.”
“Great.” Childe yawned and laid down as well. To Childe, an hour of banking exhausted him like ten hours of fighting. And today had yielded many hours of banking.
“I think it turned out quite well, don’t you?” Zhongli rolled over, and they now faced each other on the bed, the plushie cuddled in between them.
“They certainly improved upon my design,” Childe answered.
The resulting stuffed animal was sky blue, with darker swirls sewed in to indicate a watery nature. Zhongli must have requested that, Childe thought, as it wasn’t in his original design. A white spiraled horn crested out from the animal’s oversized head, and Childe judged that it was similar in size to his Rex Lapis plushie.
What really struck Childe, however, was the way Zhongli held the toy. The plushie was swaddled gently in his muscled arms – arms that had felled countless opponents on countless battlefields. The contrast of it all sent a round of dizzying thoughts to his head.
“Childe?”
“Mhmm?”
“If I may ask,” Zhongli spoke carefully, testing the waters, “what inspired you to model your attack after a narwhal?”
Childe thought. And thought. And Ajax answered.
“I speared one when I was twelve.” His words, soft and slow, betrayed a hesitance he rarely felt. “My father was so happy that he lifted me atop his shoulders and paraded me around the village like that. At the time, I considered it the greatest accomplishment of my life.”
At the story's conclusion, Childe let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
How long had it been since he had shared something from that period of his life, that time before he knew the horrors of the world, how to make and pay debts in blood? Years, he concluded, at the very least. He expected the admission to feel more painful, more invasive. It didn’t. He only felt…relief.
Was it this emotion that pushed Zhongli to sacrifice godhood?
Zhongli smiled, then, warm, welcoming, and enticing. He closed his eyes for a moment, and it seemed to Childe that he was processing the information, filing it away for a rainy day. When he opened his eyes again, they looked clearer – like a pair of cor lapis that been polished to clarity.
“Your hometown is by the ocean, I presume?”
“Yep, farther north than most people could even imagine,” Childe answered. Each word he spoke lightened his heart more. “It’s small, maybe a thousand people, and the streets aren’t paved. It’s where my family lives – I offered them an apartment in the capital city once I was promoted to Harbinger, but they refused. Said they didn’t want to ‘uproot themselves.’ I can’t blame them.”
“It must be a nice place, then,” Zhongli said, and Childe believed him. He believed, with all of his heart, that this living god was interested in his tiny, Podunk village.
Was this love, that made him believe so easily in the genuineness of others?
“I’ll take you there,” Childe boldly declared, heady on the lightness he felt his heart. “I mean – once you’ve settled your affairs here.”
With one hand, Zhongli hugged the plushie closer to his chest. His other hand intertwined with Childe’s. “And I’ll accompany you. Gladly.”