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1. Ganyu.
Liyue Harbor is never fully silent. This early in the morning, before the sun crests over the horizon and casts the land in warmth, is the closest it gets. Wheels rattle over wood and stone pathways, bracketed by the steady steps of merchants ready to set up their shops for the morning. Crickets sing their final melodies of the night. If Ganyu closes her eyes and truly listens, she can hear the ocean waves crash against the harbor’s edge.
She has always loved Liyue Harbor, since the moment Rex Lapis had her walk on its forming foundation and tied her contract to the people she was meant to help. It is always precious to her, but never more than it is at this hour of morning.
She takes a sip of her tea and relishes the relative quiet. She glances at the Glaze Lily next to her, unfurled in the moonlight. The ones she’s taken careful care to domesticate never grow as large or bloom as brightly as the wild ones in her memories, but she loves them all the same. She hums to them on occasion, when she’s certain no other member of the Qixing’s support staff is up. Singing in front of people is too embarrassing. At least she’s confident that the flowers enjoy her voice.
She hums a few notes of an old Liyue ballad when an unfamiliar sound reaches her. She pauses. Someone must be playing a flute nearby. She knows the instrument — an old one that humans don’t really play these days — but not the melody it produces. Curious, she gets to her feet and faces the sound, coming from a cliff just behind the central pavilion.
It’s easy enough to scale up the side of the cliff. She tries to decipher the melody the whole way up. She thought she knew all of Liyue’s old songs. So much music can be composed over the course of two-thousand years. The only thing she can think is that it isn’t a Liyue song. At least, it isn’t anything like any Liyue songs she’s heard ever before. Considering how it definitely isn’t the rock-and-roll Xinyan favors, Ganyu has no clue what it could be.
Ganyu reaches the top. A little ways away sits a familiar figure. A flute rests against his lips. She’s stunned. Not by the musical skill of her companion, but by the fact that he’s so close to human civilization. Even given the early hour, he hasn’t come this close to Liyue Harbor of his own free will for over a thousand years.
“Xiao?” she calls hesitantly. If he’s here, then aren’t they in danger? “Have you sensed another threat?”
He lowers his flute. His head tilts to face her. For a moment, all he does is stare. His eyes are wide, but they unnerve her all the same. It’s almost as if…
“Ganyu,” he says softly. Relief unfurls in her chest. She lowers her hand back down to her side — when did she raise it to cover her heart? “...There are no threats here,” he finishes.
Questions still needle at her mind.
“I don’t recognize that song. Was it a melody that only the yakshas shared?” she asks.
“No.”
“Where is it from?”
Xiao glances down at the flute. His fist curls around it, one part protective and one part hesitant. She’s treading careful ground now. Xiao does not like to be pushed or questioned. She knows him well enough to know when to step back, and she’s teetering dangerously close to a precipice he very may well let her tumble down.
There’s a lengthy silence. She thinks about leaving him with his thoughts.
“...Mondstadt,” he finally says.
That makes sense. Ganyu knows that a winery has popped up at the edge of Mondstadt, not too far from the border the country shares with Liyue. Xiao often patrols the cliff sides high over Mondstadt. He must have heard it there so often that he learned the song himself.
“It’s beautiful,” Ganyu says. “You’re very skilled.”
His eyes flash with an emotion she can’t decipher. He looks away and gets to his feet. “I should leave. You and I each have our contracts to fulfill.”
He’s right. The sun will rise soon, bringing endless amounts of paperwork and logistical tasks with it. Of all the things in the world that rest, demons and tax records never do.
Still, Xiao has never been good at farewells. Ganyu clears her throat. “The wind this high up carries the music well. Very few humans are up this early in the morning. If you’re ever interested in coming back, I’d be happy to listen.”
Xiao doesn’t respond, but she thinks she sees a ghost of a smile on the edge of his lips as he teleports away.
2. Xiangling.
With Xiangling’s dad off prepping a meal for the Qixing (their little Wanmin! Prepping a whole meal for the Tianquan herself!), she’s flying solo for tonight’s dinner rush. Well, not quite solo! Guoba is with her too, even if he’s less of an assistant and more of a walking source of emotional support.
It’s not so bad. The customers are always great. Chongyun and Xingqiu stopped by earlier, and Xingqiu convinced Chongyun to try Xiangling’s newest creation! He didn’t even freak out after eating it. Xiangling considers that a success.
There are only a couple customers left. Once they’re gone, she’ll close up for the night. She checks on them one last time before passing to the front. She hums a little tune to herself as she straightens menus for tomorrow.
The door opens. “Welcome, welcome!” Xiangling calls out, turning to face her customer… and coming face-to-face with an adeptus.
Specifically, the Conqueror of Demons. Adeptus Xiao.
She leaps back with a shriek. She catches herself far too late and bows deeply. “M-mighty and illuminated adeptus! Conqueror of Demons! Welcome to my humble restaurant! How might I help you tonight?”
She doesn’t dare to glance up at him. It’d be too rude.
“Do you have wine?” asks Adeptus Xiao.
“Wine! Y-yes, we do! Lots of wine! I’ll get you the best, on the house!” she says. She nearly rushes off before remembering that there’s an adeptus standing in the doorway, and he should be an adeptus sitting at a table. “Guoba, get him the best table!” she calls out. Guoba prances past her as she disappears back into the kitchen.
She remembers Adeptus Xiao. She can feel his power radiating off him, it’s amazing. There’s a heaviness, yes, but the moment she felt that, something like a gentle breeze pushed it away. Even if she hadn’t seen his Vision, there’s no denying his connection to Anemo. She’s never had anything resembling that with her Pyro Vision. Adepti really are amazing!
She snatches up their best bottle of wine and a glass. When she comes out, Adeptus Xiao is flipping through the menu. She remembers that he doesn’t eat often, but when he does, he prefers mild dishes. Maybe a light soup would be good for him. Add some steamed tofu on the side, maybe stay light on the ginger and scallions. Definitely no Slime Concentrate, even if it adds a certain pa-zow to any dish.
Adeptus Xiao catches her eye when she returns. She opens the bottle of wine and pours him a small glass. “This is the best one we have. Aged forty years!”
Adeptus Xiao picks it up. He swirls the wine under his nose and sniffs it. Even if adepti don’t need to eat, they must use wine for ceremonial purposes, right? He must have so much wine knowledge! If it wasn’t too disrespectful, Xiangling would love to pick his brain.
He takes a sip, which then turns into a longer sip, which then turns into Adeptus Xiao draining the entire glass. “It’s a good wine,” he says, pouring himself another glass. “Do you have more?”
Adepti must have amazing alcohol tolerances. “This is our only bottle of this blend, but we have a few others!”
“Can I have them? And…” he pauses, squinting down at the menu. “Do you have any apples?”
“Apples?” she echoes. Could she make a mild apple dish? Did she even have apples?
“Yeah. Apples.”
“Let me check!” she says, rushing to the back. She scrambles through their fruits. Why did they get so many lychees and mangoes? Why didn’t they get apples!?
Xiangling finds a few tucked away at the back of the shelf. She taps it with her finger, confident that it should still be good enough to serve. With a little grin of triumph, she grabs a couple bottles of wine (he did say he wanted multiple!) and returns to her most esteemed customer. “We do indeed have apples!” she announces. “Oh, I could make some applesauce. Maybe you would like that?”
“Just the apple is fine.”’
He came here just for an apple? Oh, did he not like her food as much as she thought? She shifts uneasily from foot to foot. “Er, anything else?”
Adeptus Xiao looks back down at the menu, his eyes narrowed. A hint of tongue peeks out between his lips. She looks away with a flush. “I want… this,” he says, pointing to a spicy stew. It’s one of the least mild things on the menu.
“Are you sure? That’s pretty spicy, and I thought you didn’t like spicy dishes.”
Adeptus Xiao looks up at her, blinking. For a second, his eyes flash with— with— she doesn’t even know. Something. She glances up; the lighting is a little faulty. She’ll need to get her dad to fix that.
“You made that shrimp dish before, didn’t you? I’ll have that.” After a moment’s pause, he adds, “And the apple too, of course.”
She nods. “Right away, Conqueror of Demons! Just, um, let me know if you need more wine, or anything at all. Or let Guoba know! He’ll tell me.”
A little while later, when his food is all ready and served, Xiangling peeks from behind a corner and watches Adeptus Xiao tuck into his meal. Her heart pounds in her chest. If he doesn’t like it, maybe she really isn’t meant to be a good chef. Adepti have notoriously refined tastes, yes, but what if his approval the first time was only a fluke?
He likes the crystal shrimp, judging by the small smile on his face when he eats it. But — and she can’t explain just why it feels so odd — he looks blissed out when he takes a bite of that apple.
(He doesn’t pay. She figures her dad will understand.)
3. Eula.
Eula still summons her weapon whenever she sees that dragon fly overhead. Stormterror, her mind supplies angrily, before she reminds herself that he no longer means any harm. He was a threat for so long that it’s hard to forget what he used to be.
His corruption was out of his control. Jean has repeated that multiple times during their stupid weekly meetings. No, Eula, sighs the Jean in her mind, You’re not allowed to behead the dragon while he’s sleeping, even if you find him. He isn’t evil anymore.
He flies overhead now, his massive body casting her in a cool shadow. Amber, who apparently doesn’t have enough work to do, has trailed her all day. Her eyes follow Dvalin as he soars past them, towards the Stone Gate.
“I wonder where he’s going,” Amber says. “Usually he just stays around the ruins of Old Mondstadt.”
“It’s suspicious,” Eula says.
Amber bounces a little in place. “Checking out suspicious stuff is my whole job! Eula, let’s follow him!”
Unlike Amber, she has missions to complete. Her squad is off all across Mondstadt, trying to track a rogue group of Abyss Mages that keep stirring up trouble. Her own target is closer to Dawn Winery. The fact that she happened to run into Amber on the way over is coincidence more than anything else.
“It’s on the way,” Eula says. She takes off at a brisk walk. Amber whoops in delight and follows after her.
It’s laughably easy to find a massive dragon. They didn’t even need to scale the cliff sides in Wolvendom the way they do. They could have spotted him from Dawn Winery’s front door. Eula could have gotten a bottle of wine there for the effort, and not just the dirtied cape she has now. What a waste.
Dvalin perches on the edge of the cliff, claws gouging grooves into the ground below him. His attention is focused on a single point, but his body shields whatever he’s looking at from their view. Exchanging a glance, Amber and Eula silently nod, and keep moving until they get a better view.
Finally, they do. In front of Dvalin is a young man, wearing what looks to be Liyuean clothing. She’s too far away to make out his facial expressions, but the way he reaches for the dragon’s face is obviously enough.
“Eula, do you think he’s…” Amber trails off, a question hanging off her lips.
Dvalin’s voice rumbles in the air. Eula and Amber both shiver. Eula had no idea he could speak, but his voice carries the weight of centuries.
“I thought you were gone,” Dvalin says.
They have a history together?
Eula frowns as she watches the Liyuen rest his forehead against Dvalin’s snout. The mighty Stormterror seems to relax into the embrace.
“I didn’t know Dvalin was close to random Liyuens.”
“I don’t think he’s random. He must be an adeptus or something,” Amber says.
“As if that’s any less strange?”
“Yeah… I guess so. When would he ever have the time to meet an adeptus?” Amber asks. They watch as the adeptus pulls away. A faint noise carries itself on the wind. A song, maybe? Eula’s too far away to tell if he’s a good singer or not.
He must be, considering the way Dvalin clambers further onto the cliff. He sets his head next to the adeptus, who rests a hand against his mouth.
Amber creeps a little closer. Determined not to let her give their positions away, Eula follows after her. She needs to be in arm’s reach, in case Amber does something dumb and they have to retreat.
The song he sings is so beautiful.
4. Lumine.
“Paimon doesn’t get it! Why don’t you just call for him?” Paimon demands, stomping her foot in the air as she flies around Lumine’s head.
“I don’t know if he’ll answer,” Lumine says for what must be the fourth time. She scans the tranquil plain of Nantienmen. Xiao had mentioned once that Azhdaha was powerful enough to constantly attract resentment, despite Zhongli’s newfound seal on him. He frequents this place often.
“He answered before. Why wouldn’t he answer now?”
Lumine sighs. “Just trust me.”
Paimon crosses her arms over her chest. “Fine. But we have to stop for dinner soon! Paimon is starving!”
“You’re always starving,” Lumine says, but it’s with a small smile on her face. She ignores Paimon’s retort in favor of closing her eyes and letting her Elemental Sight take over. If her hunch is correct, she should still be able to sense his Anemo energy. She even went to a Statue of the Seven in Mondstadt just to resonate with Anemo, hoping that it could somehow sharpen her senses.
She can feel wisps of elemental energy in the air. A few Hydro slimes mill about across the clearing. A Dendro slime tucks itself into the marsh at the edge of the region. Of course, there’s Azhdaha, bracketed by Geo energy on all sides.
But no Anemo. And especially no Xiao.
She opens her eyes. No luck here. That’s fine. Liyue is large, but she has an easy way to get around. She lets a Waypoint take her and Paimon to Qingce Village. She turns away from the elderly villagers almost immediately, choosing instead to poke through the bamboo groves and the massive cliffs overlooking their sleepy home. Xiao likes high places where humans won’t disturb him.
At least, he used to.
With no luck there, she heads to Guyun Stone Forest. A few Treasure Hunters prowl along the shores. Xiao doesn’t bother with mortal enemies, but she dispatches them anyway. Best not to let them get in her way. Or worse, scare him off.
She finds him high above the monsters below, sitting on a stony ledge. His legs dangle over the side, almost carefree. She doesn’t call out to him.
“Wait here,” she instructs Paimon. “I’ll be back soon.”
Paimon nods, leaving Lumine to scale up the cliff alone. She gets to her feet just a little ways behind him, out of his line of sight.
She creeps forward slowly. He doesn’t notice her at all.
There’s a fluidity to his posture that she isn’t used to seeing. Xiao moves with grace when he fights, but he holds himself stiffly when he stays still. It’s as if he doesn’t know how to rest, even just long enough to catch his breath. He’d never kick his legs back and forth. He’d never slouch.
She takes another step. He looks back, eyes wide and curious.
The color is different, but she knows that brightness.
“Hello, Venti,” she says.
Venti answers her in Xiao’s voice. “Long time no see, Traveler.”
5. Kazuha.
Kazuha often wonders if Mondstadters can hear the wind’s joy, too. It shouts its love with every gust within these rolling hills. In Liyue, the steady hum of the rocks beneath his feet never break above a whisper. The rest of nature quiets itself in reverence to the old Lord of Geo’s favored element.
Mondstadt has never shared that same sentiment, not towards the god it loves or to the element he wields.
Kazuha likes Mondstadt. Perhaps more than he even likes Liyue, though he knows better than to tell Captain Beidou that particular thought. He whispers it to the breeze instead, smiling at the way it ruffles his hair in response.
He also likes wandering Mondstadt. He sleeps under the stars every night. He dips his toes in cool streams. He writes poetry about green hills and blooming Calla Lilies against the lakeside. He could spend a long time here and never quite grow tired.
His plans change when the wind starts to wail.
It isn’t a storm. He knows the taste of a storm on his tongue. The air here isn’t heavy with rain. The skies are still a crystalline blue. It’s only the breeze itself that begs for— for something, though he isn’t quite sure what.
It’s familiar, though he isn’t sure why at first. He closes his eyes and lets the wind’s anguish pass over him. A memory flashes before him: of a bright grin, of promises of courage, and of the fear that chilled his bone when he saw a beloved Vision go blank.
His hand finds it before he’s conscious of his own movement. He grips it close.
“I understand,” he whispers to the wind, sharing its grief. He gets to his feet. Mondstadt is on the edge of losing something precious, though he doesn’t know what or why. Whoever — or whatever — it is, it must have a close connection to Anemo.
He lets his own Vision guide him. Past Brightcrown Canyon, down to the cliffs where Liyue and Mondstadt blend into each other. The wind wails the entire time, even as Anemo energy swirls in the air as if trying to calm it. Almost like a parent wrapping their arms around a frightened child. He eventually takes shelter behind a rock outcropping, having found the strange sight Anemo itself wished to take him to.
A boy, dressed in a green and white outfit typical of Mondstadt bards, kneels across from a being that could only be a Liyuen adeptus. Kazuha doesn’t recognize either person, but he is no fool. He’s close enough to see the tenderness in that adeptus’s eyes, the way his gloved hands rest against the bard’s arms as if scared to break him.
Anemo swirls around them both. It seems to leak off the bard. Kazuha’s heart twinges in sympathy. He must be on the verge of losing his Vision.
He listens to the wind, at least what can escape past the Anemo energy trying desperately to calm it down. His own Vision seems to pulse, warning him against the wind’s cries for help.
He stays rooted in place, listening for the wisps of their voices carried on the breeze.
“This is inevitable,” says the bard with a strained, breathy giggle. “I’ve had such a wonderful life, you know. I’m not afraid of what comes next.”
The adeptus seems to tighten his grip on the bard. “You were asleep for most of your life. It— it’s too soon, isn’t it?”
“I do wish you and I had more time together. You’re so interesting. I could spend centuries with you and never get bored.”
This bard is no human. Maybe… Kazuha has heard stories of the Four Winds of Mondstadt. They’re something similar to Kujou Sara, or to Guuji Yae. Followers of their god. Perhaps this is a servant of the flighty Anemo Archon.
“Do you really want to fade?” asks the adeptus.
The bard smiles sadly at him. “Do I have a choice?”
More Anemo energy leaks off the bard. His body starts to fade, like grains of sand blown off the beach. What is left behind is a small white sprite, now cradled in the adeptus’s hands. Panic wrings his face into something terrible.
The wind sprite lifts a tiny hand to the adeptus’s thumb. It rests its cheek — or what would be its cheek, if it were more than a blank slate with two glowing circles for eyes — against his curled fingers.
Anemo energy still escapes it, though less than before. “I don’t have much time left,” the sprite says, its voice like a whistle in Kazuha’s ears. “Is now a good time to tell you I love you?”
Kazuha has never heard tales of the mighty and illuminated adepti being so chained to mortal emotions that they cry. But if anything were to bring a creature that powerful to tears, it would be this.
Anemo energy seems to caress the adeptus. The sprite turns to peer at the adeptus’s face. He bites his lip, realization seeming to settle over him. “...Stay with me. I’ll shelter you.”
The sprite is silent. Kazuha tries to decipher what this means. All things come to an end. For as long as an adeptus may live, not even they can outrun death. How could a sprite barely able to hold onto its form escape, even with an adeptus’s magic?
The sprite takes a stumbling step back. “N-no,” it says, voice wavering. “Xiao, no— you couldn’t— I couldn’t—”
“I didn’t know how to want before I met you,” the adeptus says softly. “And now, I want you to remain with me. It wouldn’t be a sacrifice.”
“But Xiao, I can’t take that from you—!”
“I’ve said that there’s no one else I would share myself with besides you. Isn’t this just that?” The adeptus takes a deep breath. Now, he hesitates. “Was I wrong to think you were happy?”
“No! Not at all, you silly thing!” The wind sprite flies out of his hands, bumping against his nose. “Of course I’d want to stay with you. I just don’t want you to suffer for my sake.”
“I would suffer more if you faded. Please. It’s not a payment. It would be a gift.”
There is a long moment of silence. More Anemo energy leaks into the air. At any moment, this little sprite could disappear.
It settles back down in the adeptus’s hands. “...Okay. I’ll stay with you. But if I’m too annoying, just kick me out. Got it?”
The adeptus smiles. Kazuha understands why so much Liyue poetry praises them. He thinks of praising them himself, if only he could understand the context behind this.
He brings his hands to his chest, right over his heart. The little sprite closes its eyes. The last of its body fades to wisps of teal. They curl in the air and circle around the adeptus in a loving embrace.
He takes a deep breath. Breathes in the last of this energy.
When he gets to his feet, he does not look any different. His eyes are still gold, his hair still teal. But there’s a lightness to his steps that strikes Kazuha as different. A power that clings to him.
The wind whispers its thanks.
When the adeptus speaks, his cadence has changed. The wind blows around him so hard he almost stumbles, though he laughs as he regains his balance.
“You’re pushy, aren’t you! No wonder you were so desperate to call Xiao.” He clasps his hands behind his back. Rocks on his feet. “Now, where shall we go?”
The adeptus disappears in a flash of dark energy.
Kazuha doesn’t know what to make of this story. It’s one that deserves to be shared, he thinks. There are only two people on this side of the sea that he knows well enough to tell this to. Beidou might not care, being too concerned with chess games and tax evasion, but Lumine…
Yes. If anyone could understand what just happened, it would be Lumine.
6. Zhongli.
“You’re not as good at impressions as you think,” Zhongli says, casting a wary eye over Venti. He giggles in Xiao’s voice and flashes a sheepish smile. A part of Zhongli wonders what he could have done in the past to ever let Xiao wear his emotions as freely as the being that shares his face now.
“C’mon! It’s not my fault you’ve known Xiao for two-thousand years. My impression has gotten pretty good recently!” Venti protests.
“I could tell right away, too,” Lumine says, sipping at her tea.
“Yeah, yeah!” Paimon echoes. “Paimon could pick out the Tone-Deaf Bard anywhere!”
“Don’t listen to her. She had no idea until I told her,” Lumine says, grinning when Paimon tries to protest.
They sit outside of Cloud Retainer’s abode, in the secluded heights of Jueyun Karst. This stone table rarely sees use. It is strange to use it now. Zhongli can still remember when the original Seven would gather here. He remembers the laughter, the jokes, even the way Makoto would fondly roll her eyes whenever Barbatos would wheedle her into drinking another jar of wine with him.
He and Venti are all that’s left now. A mortal and a guest in another’s body.
“He isn’t as good at impersonating me as he thinks he is,” Xiao says. It’s easy for Zhongli to tell the difference between Venti and Xiao. He knows them both well enough to spot the change instantly.
When he first found out about their courting, he had thought of protesting. Barbatos was known for his pranks, and Xiao was too earnest and too enamoured to realize he was being tricked.
He knows better now. It’s the easy way they interact, the way Xiao has carved space for Venti to hold and the way Venti reveres all that he’s been given. This situation isn’t ideal, but maybe this could be good for them both.
Still, it’s a temporary solution. Not a permanent state of being. Xiao’s body has been used for others’ gain for so long. Even like this, Venti is still the god of freedom. He couldn’t bear to spend the rest of his days like this.
Zhongli isn’t the person to answer how they should avoid erosion. He saw it approaching on the horizon, saw how it consumed Azhdaha, and he chose to spend the rest of his days in this mortal body. When his life ends, it will be on his own terms.
“Lumine,” Zhongli says, turning to face the Traveler. She blinks up at him. “You’ve told me of your trips to Inazuma. Do you think Baal would be receptive to lending her assistance?”
“Baal?” Venti asks. “Oh, that wouldn’t work. She hates me.”
“I think she’d like Xiao,” Lumine says. “There’s a chance. The Raiden Shogun is just a puppet Ei controls. I bet she could make another. That, and she has some way of manifesting herself outside of her sword. Maybe she could do something for Venti.”
“It would likely take a long while,” Zhongli says. “Xiao, are you prepared for the wait?”
The small smile on Xiao’s face belongs entirely to him. For all he’s spent his life trapped, it seems that he’s found the most freedom with his beloved always with him. At least he’s been given that much.
“I don’t mind,” Xiao says, “If Venti stays with me a little longer. As long as he’s here, I’m…”
He trails off, but Zhongli understands what Xiao can’t bring himself to say.
He’s happy.