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The snow is soft this time of year in Qingce village. Xiao, the lone yaksha, flits between treetops looking for a fitting vantage point on his prey. Fresh snow falls through the shuddering pine branches as he moves with the breeze, powdering the icy ground below. Though the snow is thicker here than in the marsh, it is wet and presses into ice underfoot. The ground is slick with packed snow as such, the crunch of footsteps deafening in the empty mountains, and walking like so will leave tracks behind; the opposite of what Xiao wants. He needs to remain undetected. A guardian is no more good at his job if he is discovered by those he wards.
Xiao questions for a moment if he is right to even be here before he spots a sturdy-looking sitting tree and begins climbing its branches like rungs on a ladder. It doesn't matter if he's right or not to be here. What matters is that the party guests are safe.
A few weeks ago, Zhongli arrived at Wangshu Inn with an invitation for Xiao. The Traveler had returned from Inazuma for the winter and wanted to host a so-called “Christmas” party, the theme taking after some relic holiday from their homeworld, Zhongli said. He asked Xiao if he would come to the party.
"You work so hard, my treasure. A few hours is all I ask for, out of a thousand years of your tireless service. Come with me, let's enjoy ourselves. You've earned it."
Tch. A bitter sigh escapes Xiao and puffs into a cloud of frost. How could Rex Lapis say that? Doesn't he value responsibility anymore? Stupid dragon.
Guilt floods Xiao’s stomach as soon as he thinks it. Zhongli isn't stupid. Xiao knows that, he's just… still mad at him from earlier. It stings to think that Morax may be changing more than he thought. Xiao's duties as a yaksha were last on the list of things he thought Zhongli would be okay with letting slip — even in this new era of a Morax-less Liyue, demons continue to rise. Xiao continues to banish them. Human lives are at stake when Xiao does not complete his work correctly. Why should he slack off because of some trivial party? The chance of putting even one person at risk because of his imprudence is not a chance he is willing to take.
Xiao settles on a high bough of the fir tree, hidden between two branches drooping with the weight of snow on their needles. Some shakes off and falls silently as he shifts around looking for the best viewing angle, just northeast of Chang the Ninth's residence. The man doesn’t seem to be home, however. Probably already mingling, Xiao guesses.
Xiao had considered attending for a moment, but his answer was still a determined no. He cannot abandon his duties, no matter how much Zhongli asked for him to give himself a break for one single night in a thousand years. That simply isn't happening. The risk is too large. And Xiao is better for it: fighting is important to him. It gives him a sense of purpose that almost nothing else can. There isn’t anything as calming as the focus a warrior gains while in the center of battle.
He knows he is not good at much else anyway. He never learned how to socialize correctly. Trying to hold normal conversation often lands flat or tone-deaf, and the bruised looks on people's faces when he says something the wrong way shouldn't hurt so much, but it does. It's better for everyone that he stays away from areas where demons are not concerned.
Plus, Xiao rations as he watches the village citizens begin to prepare the gazebo for guests, the villagers are elderly. Their minds are eroding just as their strength does, and their mortal souls weaken by the day. It would be ill-advised to enter the village, even with a fresh dose of the karma-suppressing medicine Xiao takes. Not the people for the farmland would stand a hair against Xiao's karma if he were to infect them. They should enjoy the time they have left in peace, not be driven to madness by the wraiths that latch onto Xiao.
Xiao said no to attending the party himself, but… That doesn't mean he can't play a part in it.
If he can't join them, he may as well protect them from lurking evils that may arise. Perhaps he could watch them as well, he could live vicariously through the jubilant decorating of the community center and the friendly smiles on folks' faces as they help each other prepare. That would be enough of a celebration for Xiao, he thinks, even if he misses out on the traveler’s tales of Christmastime.
…
The sun begins to set before long. From his perch in a tree, Xiao scans dutifully for even half a whiff of demonic activity to purge. He watches the Traveler bring out boxes of hand-made decorations in the meantime, when no demons have risen and no danger has made itself known.
A blonde man Xiao doesn’t recognize paints runes onto a stone table, alchemizing a life-sized pine tree not unlike the kind Xiao sits in now. Though, its trunk is much shorter and cut at the end. A young Liyuean boy—with a hydro vision, Xiao assumes—helps the blonde man put the tree into a stand and fill it with water, as per Traveler’s instruction as they gesture at the pair. From the boxes brought by the Traveler comes strings of luminescent ore and colorful ornaments. Xiao watches as the orbs of vibrant greens and reds are pinned to the tree in strategic, beautiful patterns until every branch glitters under the lamplight and a 4-pointed star crowns the top.
Zhongli arrives next to help with the party, and Xiao's heart pounds when he sees him. He’s dressed so handsomely, as always. His hair is styled differently tonight, slicked back on his left side, with a new vest and tie that compliment his body shape. Xiao watches Zhongli unpack his box of goods, dozens of parcels in a star-patterned paper placed beneath the tree for guests. Now Xiao wished he were closer so that he could see what exactly the gifts were. That was one of the few things Xiao knew about Christmas, as told by the Traveler via Zhongli: you give and receive gifts.
Had Zhongli picked out all of those presents for every guest? The idea intrigues Xiao. He knows better than anyone else that Zhongli is a meticulous gift giver, and no doubt has researched each of the attending guests with firm purpose to find what would bring them joy.
It’s times like this that Xiao is happy to call Zhongli his. Ugh. Xiao knows he’s supposed to stay mad at him, but he just can't. He watches as the god greets guests with that sun-warmed smile of his, and feels his anger melt away like snowflakes in his palm. Zhongli is a good man. He didn’t mean any disrespect.
More guests filter in as the sun tucks itself fully behind the mountaintop. Presents gather like dust around the decorated tree, and warm food and drinks are served while people get comfortable. Xiao can smell the sweetness drifting through the air and up to him.
The traveler disappears for some time, before returning… in a strange costume. Archons, that floating fairy Paimon is dressed up too. She's got a red nose and stag horns on. The Traveler is covered in red and white. It's… so ugly . Whatever show they put on, Xiao can't hear the joke until people start laughing, the tinny ring of human voices echoing into the valley. Observing instead of participating… It's familiar. Comforting, even. Xiao is no stranger to isolation in this way.
He glances around the mountains then, staring at the horizon as the last rays of golden light die. Once the sun sets, spirits are more likely to appear. Now is the time to remain vigilant. Xiao's eyes pierce through the darkness and scan the fields and houses of the village, resonating with the health of the land and trying to detect any evil presences. Each shadow is a potential hiding place, so it is imperative that Xiao focuses hard and makes zero mistakes.
But there's nothing.
Not a single demon…
Xiao is jolted from his meditation by the sound of a woman screaming. Instantly, his spear is in his hand, but when he looks down to the source it's only Hu Tao, that lively girl who works with Zhongli. It looks like she's opened her gift. Zhongli must have given it to her, judging from his modest nods and her excited squeals. Xiao relaxes his tensed shoulders and sighs. There's no demon.
Zhongli finishes his turn with Hu Tao and looks around the outsides of the gazebo as if searching for someone. He stops after his second loop, a frown creasing his lips. He's holding a box. It's wrapped neatly and tied with a velvet string, more sumptuous than the other packages, and held in his own hands rather than extracted from under the tree. Xiao can't see the expression on his face anymore. Only his hair flowing in the night breeze, and the angle of his nose as Zhongli turns to look over his shoulder slowly.
Is he looking at Xiao? The adeptus stiffens. How could he tell where Xiao is? He watches Zhongli carefully, but can't tell if Zhongli sees him or is looking at the trees. Commotion at the other end of the gazebo steals Xiao’s attention. A couple is kissing beneath flowers in the archway. Xiao actually does recognize these two: Ningguang and Beidou. Beidou, who Xiao recalls, makes a scene of dipping Ningguang to kiss her in the most dramatic fashion possible in the name of holiday spirit.
When Xiao looks back, Zhongli has vanished. Wait a minute. Where is he?
…
Xiao hears Zhongli’s footsteps long before he sees him. The tall man holds his trousers up by the knee to avoid wetting them in the snow, tromping through the ice towards the lone tree where Xiao sits.
“Xiao.” He addresses the yaksha, not a question to confirm his identity but a statement to alert him that he knows Xiao is up there. That he can’t hide, or pretend to be deaf as Xiao often does when upset.
“How… did you find me?” Xiao murmurs. The night is quiet, cushioned in a way that only snow in Qingce can be, and his voice sounds loud in his ears when he says it. The chatter of the party guests below turns to background noise, and between his syllables Xiao can only hear the wind and his heartbeat.
"I wasn't sure who was watching us, but I thought I’d make sure it wasn't something malicious.” Zhongli approaches the tall trunk of the tree. His voice rings clear in the thin air. “I didn’t think I’d see you at the party.”
Xiao grimaces into the night. He isn’t at the party, he tells himself, to silence the alarms that set off at the self-accusation that he’s slacking. The truth is ugly. But a half-truth is bearable. “I… have more important matters to attend to. I already told you I wasn’t going.”
“You always did this during Aufest, too, never letting yourself participate.” Zhongli rolls his pant legs so that he doesn't have to continue holding them, and shrugs one hand into his pocket to hide from the cold. “I enjoy the company of our friends, of course, but I was hoping to see you the most.” Zhongli squints up at him in the tree, smiling into the shadows to perhaps soften their menace.
The tree shudders once more as Xiao begins to climb down slowly, a sheet of snow falling to plop on the ground. Xiao stops at a low branch, not quite ready to set foot on the earth again. He stares at the present box in Zhongli’s hands.
Zhongli hoists up the pretty box for Xiao to look at. It’s even more intricate up close: the star-patterned wrapping is shiny like metal, but smooth and paper. There’s gold calligraphy along the ribbon that reads “Ho Ho Ho”. Xiao can guess who planted that ridiculous line in Zhongli’s head. He glances one more time at the gazebo below, where the Traveler is telling their folklore stories. Their friends, Zhongli had said. Those people certainly are friends with the Traveler in some capacity or another. Did the Traveler consider Xiao their friend, too?
Hmph. Xiao slips down from the branch to stand on even ground with Zhongli, his feet landing with a practiced thump. He steps closer slowly, eyeing the box like he was holding a fragile bomb. Xiao said he wouldn’t be here but Zhongli brought him a gift to include him in the rituals anyway. How unreasonably thoughtful of him. “You prepared something while knowing I would not be here?”
“… I was also hoping you might have changed your mind?” Zhongli chuckles sheepishly. “Either way, I’m seeing you now, aren’t I? Go ahead, treasure. Open it.” He nudges the box into Xiao’s hands, his warm fingers lingering on the backs of Xiao’s knuckles as he takes the box finally. It’s heavy.
Xiao tugs loose the ribbon on top, and the Ho Ho Ho falls to the side. When he lifts the lid, the inside is dim even with the aid of the bright full moon and the reflective snow. Xiao reaches inside and picks up the object to examine it.
“The whetstone is quartz,” Zhongli begins, proud of himself for the nearly imperceivable smile that cracks Xiao’s face as he realizes what it’s for. “This variety is unique in that it shows to affect the mental clarity of its owner, encouraging generosity and receptiveness to the love and kindness one receives, cleansing the mind of excess negativity in the process.”
Xiao continues to hold the stone, thumb tracing over the grit and the topography of a carved design in the butt end of the prism. He knows what the image is just by tracing the familiar turns and curves of its body, trailing from its horns to the end of its flowing tail. A dragon. A quartz whetstone for a jade spear, with a dragon on the side. Xiao’s smile cracks a little wider. He lifts the quartz into the air to admire the dance of colors through the stone in the moonlight.
Zhongli reaches back into the box to retrieve something else while Xiao’s mind is busy elsewhere. He ties something to a low-hanging branch above their heads and it dangles in the air pathetically, a bundle of tiny flowers and white berries upside-down and oscillating in the wind.
Xiao stares when he notices, suppressing his smile until he can contain himself again. “What is that? It looks silly.”
Zhongli gently takes the whetstone from his yaksha’s hands and places it back inside its box. His arms reach for Xiao and he shuffles closer, pulling them close together at the waist. “It’s an alchemical recreation of a plant from our dear Traveler’s Christmas traditions. In the wild, it grows parasitically on dead trees and stays green throughout the winter, when leaves would die and trees are frequently bare. It likely became so popular because of its vibrancy in these bleak winter months. Don’t you agree?” He looks up at the bouquet, which has since slowed its spinning, his finger rubbing self-soothing circles into Xiao’s back.
The adeptus follows his gaze, peering upward and watching the mountain breeze knock the berries around. They are notably more colorful than the surrounding snow and blue-grey night. Xiao shrugs. “It is resilient if it survives the winter when its host does not.”
Zhongli nods, and Xiao can feel the shift of his breath between them. “You’re right. It holds a special kind of symbolism where it comes from. Have you caught wind of its meaning?” Zhongli pulls Xiao closer until he is against his chest.
“... No,” Xiao answers. He truly hasn’t. Even if he had been told once, it’s difficult to remember obscure details when the only thing he really wants to think about is what’s in front of him. Zhongli’s presence brings an ineffaceable calm, like his prescription in a concentrated form. There are no demons. Or voices. No karma. No loneliness. No incorrect way to inflect.
They kiss sweetly, Zhongli’s arms looped around Xiao’s waist and their noses red in the cold. His lips taste sweet, like chocolate and peppermint. The adeptus hums as he pulls away, sighing out a puffy cloud that gets whisked away from between them in the wind. Xiao glances up at the other, relaxing into his warmth and steadiness.
"You... look nice," Xiao blurts, his face hot. He turns his head, unable to escape from the heady cologne that scents Zhongli's chest. His hands lower to Zhongli's middle sheepishly, his stomach fluttering in turn. "Smell nice, too."
Zhongli smiles, pleased. "I dressed well for you."
This time, Xiao is the one who gets on his toes to kiss Zhongli.