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She stood on the curved balcony, naked, her thin gold pipe loosely cradled by her long fingers, tucked into her full lips. She exhaled silver smoke, watching it spill and swoop and spiral into the illuminated night sky. It had been years, Ningguang realized, since she had watched the Xiao Lanterns rise like golden bubbles from Liyue’s bustling harbours. It was new yet nostalgic to look up, and not across, at those mini suns.
Ningguang missed seeing them eye to eye. Oh, how she missed her floating palace, her Jade Chamber. She missed reaching her hand out into the clouds, brushing the golden dreams of Liyue citizens as they were buoyed by benevolent air currents. Suspended Xiao Lanterns bloomed into a skybound field of flowers, full of wishes, starlight and fire. Ningguang missed the way Liyue Harbour looked from high above, like all of Rex Lapis’ precious gems gathered into a perfect chest of sprawling treasure.
In the Jade Chamber, the hustle and sweat of Liyue disappeared. All Ningguang felt was moon and cloud, silence and gold.
She worried at her pipe, luxuriating in the noxious smoke sinking and settling in her lungs. It was fitting, this pained pleasure. All of those years of running until her feet were stumps, of selling until her hands were gnarled, of worrying until her hair turned white, all of those years crystalized into the splendour of her Jade Chamber, her floating shrine to her suffering. All of those years, broken, shattered, wasted, gone.
Ningguang tapped her pipe. Ash crumbled towards her marble balcony floor.
Her Liyue mansion was lovely, of course. It sprawled large and unbothered in the best, highest point of the city. But she knew that the air was thinner and cleaner among the mountaintops. These mortal pleasures were nothing compared to the divine joy of near-flight.
She had been so close to touching actual stars. So close.
She sacrificed for her city, her Liyue. She was a leader, the Tianquan. This was her duty. Her reward was to be banished from air, down to the earth she was destined to dwell upon. Her Vision, Geo, a stone-cold reminder of her corporeal obligations.
Ningguang lied and intimidated, flattered and threatened, planned and schemed; all so that she could accumulate an endless fortune. Don’t you have enough? Beidou had once laughed, on the rare occasion when she had shared her plans for expanding her coiffers. Ningguang had smiled, barely veiling her contempt. Enough was not in her lexicon. Mora was freedom, and one could never have too much freedom.
And oh, how Ningguang craved freedom. All of her life, she wanted to be free, free from the physical sufferings of the world. She wanted her stomach to stop digesting itself from hunger, for her skin to stop resembling a bruised, rotten peach, for her back to stop breaking under the weight of unforgiving labour. She was only a child, she just wanted to-
To be free. She just wanted the pain to stop.
Mora bought her food, silks and shelter to massage her weary body. Mora bought her the absolute respect of the emissaries, merchants and diplomats who all vied for even a second of her attention. Mora bought her nights of sleep free from nightmares of debt and starvation. Mora bought her a palace that soared among the stars, untethered to the toil of the earth below.
A palace that had been swallowed by the primordial rage of a god.
Ningguang exhaled again, allowing the white smoke of her pipe to swirl lazily before dissipating into the night air.
She was mourning, she supposed. It was hard for her to be certain. She had never been one to dwell on her emotions. Ningguang had learned too young that grief was a luxury reserved for those who had enough time to stop and look back. And now that Mora had bought her time, well. She was afraid of what she might find if she dared turn her head.
The slap of calloused feet upon marble shook her from her reveries. Ningguang intimately knew those footsteps, that unapologetically crass gate. Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
“Not coming back to bed?” Beidou murmured into her ear, voice husky from overuse. Ningguang blew a cloud of smoke into Beidou’s face as a response. Her lover pulled away, laughing in colourful, broad strokes. She stood at Ningguang’s side, leaning her forearms on the balcony’s austere railing.
Silence slipped like an old bed fellow between them.
Around others, the Tianquan and the Crux Captain were like ice and flame, hissing and spitting upon contact. The latter’s vulgar manners and irresponsible life choices endlessly vexed the former, while the former’s uptight rules and nitpicking complaints eternally incensed the latter.
However, when they were alone, Ningguang and Beidou were like shore and ocean, harmoniously interwoven by the moon’s guiding hand. Words were ornamental; waves do not converse with sand as they smooth away ragged edges.
And so, Ningguang smoked and Beidou stood, and Liyue Harbour laughed loudly beneath them.
After some time, Beidou straightened her spine, arms splayed above her head as she stretched. Ningguang openly admired the taut muscle that stretched all around Beidou’s generous body, the battle scars that painted stories upon her otherwise pale skin. Beidou caught Ningguang’s gaze, unsmiling. She didn’t need her Electro vision to send anticipatory tingles up Ningguang’s spine.
However, Beidou broke the sudden spike of tension by glancing up at the floating lanterns. Her single red eye softened in wonder. “Even though I see these lanterns every year, they never fail to amaze.”
Ningguang was a bit disappointed by this decidedly less tantalizing turn of topic, but she hummed in agreement. “They are certainly a sight to behold.”
“It’s kind of strange this year, though,” Beidou mused. Ningguang raised a brow in inquiry. Beidou laughed softly, a bit bashful. It was a strange look on the normally boisterous woman. “I’m used to watching the lanterns on the ocean. It’s just kind of… weird to see them on solid land.” She flashed a wolfish grin at Ningguang. “Not that I’m not thrilled to be spending the night with you.”
“Am I what made you choose to spend the Lantern Rite in Liyue Harbour this year, then?” inquired Ningguang dryly.
“I missed your body.”
“Archons, you’re predictable.”
At this, Beidou unleashed her iconic guffaw. Ningguang, in spite of herself, smiled small and true. Beidou reached over lazily and traced Ningguang’s lips with her thumb, as if memorizing the shape of her upturned lips. A breath caught in Ningguang’s throat.
She didn’t quite know what they were, Beidou and her.
“When will you be departing?” Ningguang inquired, turning her head from Beidou’s hand. The lines of their intimacy were tricky. Nudity and sex were a given, kisses and embraces a question, slight touches a mystery.
Beidou retracted her hand casually, unhurt. “Tomorrow morning, at dawn.”
“Such a hasty departure,” Ningguang noted.
“Well, with the martial art tournament rolling up soon, I gotta start making preparations,” Beidou explained, grinning in anticipation. Ningguang debated if she should warn her not to be too rowdy, as a good Tianquan should, but found she could not muster up the energy to care. Not when the lanterns glowed so softly above.
“I hope you didn’t halt your planning just to play with me,” Ningguang said wryly.
Beidou shook her head and reassured, “No, you weren’t my sole reason to dock. It’s the Lantern Festival, and my men deserve a break. But, it’s true that I wanted to spend this Rite with you.” Here, Beidou paused. Ningguang could see that she was trying to compose her next thought, a rarity for the normally blunt Captain. “I thought that you might be down.”
Ningguang’s heart skipped funnyly at her admission. She raised a thin eyebrow in a show of nonchalance. “Down? Do you mean that literally or figuratively? As in on the ground or as in depressed?” In spite of her best efforts, Ningguang’s voice caught on her last word.
“Is ‘both’ a good enough answer?” Beidou replied cautiously.
Ningguang closed her eyes. She could snap back, retreat into her well-worn, glamorous cloak of cold competence. Or she could be honest.
Tonight, Ningguang dared to be honest. “I… appreciate you being here. It’s been odd to be on solid ground for me as well.”
“I figured,” Beidou said. “So we can be uncomfortable land dwellers together.”
“You, missing the sea. Me, missing the sky.”
“Exactly.”
They fell into a companionable quiet. In the distance, a child’s cry transformed into hiccuping laughter.
Ningguang fixed Beidou with an unreadable crimson stare. She still did not quite understand why Beidou would choose to eschew her beloved waters to comfort an icy, smoke-stained queen.
“You’re generous, to give up the ocean for me,” Ningguang purred, concealing her query in a compliment.
“I can be on the waves anytime. You can’t return to the sky quite yet,” Beidou explained. Of course she immediately understood. Ningguang loved the way she added ‘yet’ with such certainty, as if the return of the Jade Chamber was not a question but an inevitability.
“Still. Your selflessness is a wonder to me.”
Beidou laughed again. “‘Selfless’ sounds a bit dramatic, don’t you think? Anyone would choose to comfort someone they lo-“ she abruptly cut herself off.
The implication of Beidou’s almost-confession rose like a lantern within Ningguang, warming her chest and cheeks with unfamiliar light.
Beidou watched Ningguang intently. Ningguang returned her gaze.
“I suppose you aren’t selfless, then,” agreed Ningguang. “Neither of us are.”
Beidou took Ningguang’s hand. Ningguang did not pull away.
“I got something for you,” Beidou said, “and I’m going to give it to you now. I left it in your room.” She pressed a fleeting kiss on the back of Ningguang’s hand and walked back into the chambers.
It was a bold move to buy a gift for a woman who has everything, but Beidou was a bold woman. She returned to the balcony in minutes, holding a small, glowing lantern in her hands.
Ningguang smiled wanly. “Of course.”
“Hey, you gotta make a wish on a Xiao Lantern during the Lantern Rite!” protested Beidou.
“You only brought one lantern.”
“Because we’re going to wish together.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”
“You write the rules and I break them. That’s how it’s always been. Am I wrong?” challenged Beidou. Ningguang chuckled a bit, because no, she was not.
“Do you have a wish?” Ningguang asked.
Beidou grinned. “I have thousands. But tonight, only one. And I’ll wager it’s the same as yours.”
Ningguang’s pulse picked up. This woman, with her vagabond confidence and stormcloud smile, thundered past her diamond walls and struck the deepest part of her heart. No one matched Ningguang step for step except for Beidou, who downright danced beside her.
“What is our wish, then?” corrected Ningguang.
Beidou cupped Ningguang’s face in her palms. She was supposed to be wishing on their lantern, but Ningguang knew she was the only divinity Beidou believed in. “Next year, we wish up among the lanterns.”
Ningguang kissed Beidou, caught those gift-giving lips with her own. She tasted like salt and brandy and starlight. She tasted like a future written in the night sky.
Ningguang broke away, eyes gleaming. “Next year, we wish up among the lanterns,” she repeated.
Together, they released their lantern. They watched as it rose up, up, up, watched as it became indiscernible from the other lanterns, watched as it tangled with the stars, watched as it kissed the incoming sun, watched as a new day spilled over Liyue Harbour.