Archive of Our Own ^beta

By the time Beidou returns to the ship in her drunken daze, most of the crew has retired to bed after a long day of organising wooden crates on the dock. Beidou grips her fingers around the worn wood of the ship’s walls—a section of it even creaking under the crushing weight of her fingers. “Archons, this sucks,” she grimaces as she barely manages to raise her gaze to the flurry of colours that lay immediately beyond her vision. Even the pungent scent of the ocean’s salinity fails to fog her senses over the stench of alcohol as she tries to compose herself enough to successfully make it down the fleet of stairs.

A gentle voice calls out to her like a hummingbird perched upon a nimble branch, just as the adolescent approaching her had been seated on one of the masts of the ship. “Beidou—what happened?” he asks, voice edged with worry as he wraps his arms around the drunken captain’s shoulders to hold her up with as much support as he can provide.

“It’s Ningguang again—she keeps coming to me with her stupid requests as if she’s never done bothering me at all. Who does she think she is—always coming to me like we’ve known each other for ages. And what’s worse is that she’s hot, so frustratingly attractive and I hate it,” Beidou scolds, words slurred because of the alcohol. She waves the empty glass bottle in the air, tightening her arm around the frail Kazuha who’s desperately trying to hold her up with his own weight. Her knees buckle and she almost falls, but a passing crew member rushes to their aid, saving Kazuha from potentially falling and Beidou before the situation—somehow or another—worsens.

“What happened?” Huixing asks, face scrunching as the god awful smell of aged wine hits her. Beidou hasn’t drunk much recently, because she’d promised she wouldn’t to stop the wave of dazedness that ruins her mornings after. She’d been doing well for a long while, even though she’d be up sometimes staring distantly at the beer the crew has stashed away on nights that the waves are calm enough for the ship to not need much navigating. Though, since the ship docked at Liyue around a week ago and thus inviting an unwelcome visit from a certain someone—she’d been completely out of character. Kazuha shakes his head disappointedly, a cloud of mist peeling off his lips before evaporating into the atmosphere.

“She kept rambling on and on about Lady Ningguang, but I fail to understand the true problem. Perhaps something off-putting must’ve happened again—you know how Beidou drinks only when she’s stressed,” he remarks, glancing towards Beidou’s flushed face as she continues to hobble off balance, ankles shaky and knees bent inward to each other. She has stopped responding to the whispered questions muttered to her every now and then by Huixing, almost as if she’s fallen asleep mid-way through the walk. “How nice it would be if she could confide in me every now and then.”

“Oh Kazuha, you know how our captain is,” Huixing smiles, a crumpled look of pity lingering in her eyes. “She struggles to voice her pains even when she carries ours on her shoulders everyday.”

Beidou raises her gaze, a faraway look in her eyes as she looks out to the vast ocean just beyond her. She kicks her stubby legs out experimentally off the wooden bridge extending towards the water. The ocean breeze blows harder, tousling her hair into the perfect kind of mess that has always left her heart thumping with exhilaration. She lowers her gaze, and in her hands caked with mud is a half-tied piece of cloth. “I have to go home soon…” she comments under her breath, pushing a strand of spruce-coloured hair behind her ears.

A rumble interrupts her silence, prompting her to look up to the sky which is azure with not a single cluster of clouds littering its beauty. She then lowers her eyes to her stomach, rubbing it with her hands, wondering if she’s hungry. Beidou hears the grumble a second time, but this time she’s sure it’s not from her. She snatches her cloth closer towards herself, holding it almost protectively as she averts her gaze warily to scan her surroundings.

“Who’s there?” she demands, and even as a child, the intimidating in her voice has stayed. Back during her childhood, the docks of Liyue barely formed a port—with only some boats and the occasional traders’ ship stopping by. Instead of wooden stalls set up by fishermen, there was overgrown shrubbery and uncut vines that spread across the concrete walls of the dock. Beidou hears a whistle in the distance and then the rustling of leaves in a close proximity to herself. She stands, despite being unwilling to leave the water.

“Why are you hiding?” she asks again, and she manages to see where the noise is coming from.

Beidou stands, not very tall at the age of ten so she has to go all the way to dig through the shrubs. When she pulls the leaves to the side with one hand, the other behind her back, she catches a girl around her age crouching with a poor attempt at concealing herself.

Beidou stares, eyes slightly widened with childish curiosity at the girl with snowy white hair and skin patched with dirt. She hears the grumble for a third time, but it’s far louder and it sounds almost painful this time—as the stranger crouches in front of her clutches onto her stomach and looks away with a blush.

“Where are your parents? Mama told me she’d be back once she’s done working so I can help you look for them, if you want,” Beidou asks, having forgotten the hint of annoyance that was riddled in her tone just earlier. She kneels down to meet the eyes of the smaller, more petite girl.

Noticing discomfort, she reveals the cloth held in her hands and watches at it hesitantly before unfolding it. “You can have this,” she insists, showing three jellies with a toffee colour, seasoned with dried petals. The girl in front of her raises her gaze, wide doe eyes sparkling at the sight. She doesn’t speak, however, and her movements are far too weak to be considered actions.

“It’s called guihua gao,” Beidou continues, poking the other girl with it to nudge her into eating. “It’s good, I promise,” she edges on. The other girl reaches a hand towards it warily, pushing her short hair over her shoulders so it won’t obstruct her face. Beidou has never seen a kid like her around Liyue—and she’s been around enough to know anyone her age. More than she is curious, she’s a little confused as to the mysterious girl’s origins. Yet of course, by the time the girl can pick one of the jellies up in her hand, Beidou retracts her own hand with a teasing smirk on her face.

“I’ll give it to you if you tell me your name. I’ll let you have them all, I swear,” she adds, a dastardly grin growing on her lips. The girl in front of her turns her head away stubbornly, face burned brighter red out of embarrassment of being fooled so easily by a stranger.

“You make too many promises…” she mutters. Beidou brings her face closer, eyebrow arched as she tries to hear what the other girl has been grumbling under her breath. “Ningguang,” the girl in front of her admits eventually, directing her gaze back to the playful Beidou. She wipes her hand against her face, leaving a smear of dirt dragging across her skin. She has gotten far too accustomed to spending her time on the streets and helping out with dirty work at her age to be worried about how unkempt she is, and Beidou doesn’t seem to bother.

Many strangers don’t do so little as spare her a glance when they see that she’s so shabby, to the point it hurts a little because they hadn’t even given her a chance. Ningguang’s heart melts ever so slightly at Beidou’s sympathy.

“I keep all the promises I make,” Beidou replies, clearly having heard what Ningguang fumbled earlier. And as she’d given her word, she extends the cloth with jellies and rests it gingerly on Ningguang’s open palms with an eager grin on her face. Ningguang creeps out from the cover of the bushes, just so leaves don’t get in her food and passers-by would stop looking at them so weirdly. When she finds herself a satisfactory seat on the bridge, she opens the cloth against her lap and holds one of the jellies to her face with an expression of scrutiny. “Go onnn, are you going to take forever?” Beidou whines, rocking rather aggressively.

Ningguang purses her lips, slowly closing her mouth around the jelly. The instant taste of bitter herbs is what’s left on her tongue first as her nose scrunches in response to the unfamiliar sensation on her tongue. When the cover of the jelly breaks under the force of her teeth, the sweetness of sweet flower syrup seeps into her mouth. Ningguang’s eyes widen as she chews faster on the jelly, feeling something like the fresh taste of mint left like a residue on her tongue. “It’s so good,” she coos, eyes curving into crescents.

“I told you so,” Beidou exclaims, as if she’d been waiting for the line. Swishing her hand through the air, she remarks, “I never go back on my promises. Mama told me that only bad people do that,” she continues, more happy about being able to keep her word than Ningguang’s reaction itself. The previous reluctance towards giving away her beloved jellies has faded entirely and all that could ever matter right now is this momentary friendship she has with a complete stranger. Yet of course—what else would a friendship start from, should it not be flower jellies?

Ningguang side-glances at the overenthusiastic girl beside her, rocking back and forth with a more calm pace than before. Her face is flushed, cheeks always stained with a rosy pink. The sun falls over them as hours pass quickly and leaving a gap in time. Beidou talks too much, rambling on about how she enjoys helping her parents on the docks but sometimes it gets lonely when she’s left waiting on her own with no one’s company to keep her entertained, and Ningguang talks too little, doing everything but revealing much about herself. Beidou does not ask once where she comes from, or why she’s so messy in the middle of a bustling town.

“I didn’t realise we were here for so long—” Beidou comments, cutting herself off mid-way through her previous sentence. The sky melts into an array of quilted colours—brilliant vermillion seeping amongst orange. Liyue hasn’t seen such a brilliant sunset for a long time, although Beidou’s mother has always told her that they look much better out by sea.

“It’s pretty,” Ningguang says breathily, hands pressed against the damp wooden planks. Fishermen and wandering merchants have also stopped to watch the sky, whispering amongst each other incredulously. Beidou turns her head, noticing how Ningguang’s pale hair has been painted over with a subtle orange hue because of the sky above. Her lips part in surprise, head tilting ever so slightly as she watches the girl beside her distractedly.

“You’re pretty,” Beidou confesses. Ningguang turns her head, eyes narrowed with suspicion over a simple compliment. And with uttering no word, she only shakes her head, as if denying Beidou’s statement despite it intending to be a compliment. “Do you not like compliments?” Beidou asks, genuinely confused. She starts to think it’s a bit odd—and she’s a little offended too, because she doesn’t compliment everyone so freely.

“Not when they’re hard to believe,” Ningguang replies simply, far too pragmatic for a girl who’s only around ten years old. Beidou frowns, lowering her gaze in annoyance. “A lot of strangers don’t even want to come close to me because I’m always so dirty. I can’t help it though—I have to work so I can earn enough for my parents. People are stupid.”

“You said a bad word,” Beidou gasps, wagging an accusatory finger. Ningguang’s expression swiftly breaks out of the solemn, almost wistful one she had, turning her gaze towards the silly girl beside her, wondering if she has no ability to read the situation. Though, as much as she’d like to pity herself, she can’t find it in herself to blame the world for her misfortune and neither can she muster any angry grudge towards Beidou. Ningguang rolls her eyes. “What! I’m only making sure your parents don’t scold you if you say it around them!” Beidou corrects with a huff.

“No one would say bad words around their parents,” Ningguang protests with a frown. Beidou then sits to think, rubbing her chin in thought, realising it does make more sense. “What—?” she responds, breath cut off as Beidou grapples onto her hands and lifts them mid-air. She furrows her eyebrows, slightly caught off guard by the sudden action as her heart throws itself off balance.

“Promise me you won’t get in trouble?” Beidou demands, an unreadable emotion glimmering in her eyes. The former squints her eyes, trying to read her expression to predict a response she could give, though Beidou’s eyes have not a single thought behind them. She pushes herself off the bridge in the time that the silence fills between them, folding up into a stand to brush her clothes. A gust of wind blows, sending scattered leaves blowing through the air and brushing against their cheeks. When Beidou turns her head downwards, Ningguang is caught off guard by the epiphany that she’d been staring and so, she quickly turns her head away.

“Why is that important?” she coughs, still flustered. She retracts her hand away from Beidou as she realises her own have gotten warm and sweaty from being in Beidou’s grip. She is yet to get fully accustomed to foreign touch, and it would take her some time to get over the shivers that prick her skin when she feels the warmth of Beidou’s hands against her exposed skin.

The other girl, who doesn’t look disturbed in the least upon having had her grip broken out of, averts her gaze out towards the blurred horizon line, having merged between the sky and ocean now that the sky has darkened. “Because I won’t get to see you anymore if you get into trouble,” Beidou says honestly, kicking at an invisible pebble on the ground. “And I won’t let you off until you repay me for the jellies I let you have earlier. They’re my favourite,” she snorts.

Ningguang’s face falls in horror. “I don’t have any money I can give…” she grumbles, heart sinking in her chest as she fumbles with her empty hands. Beidou cocks an eyebrow out of curiosity upon seeing the reaction, and makes a mental note that Ningguang isn’t the best with jokes. “Okay, uhm—but if you give me a week, I can pay you back with a meal—I can ask my—” she continues to panic, rambling on with meaningless words that Beidou pays no heed to.

“Why are you so worried? Did you really think I’d make my new friend pay me back?” Beidou beams once again, pearly one teeth glimmering almost mockingly. Ningguang’s face burns for the umpteenth time the whole day and she takes to hiding her face from Beidou’s view before she gets herself teased once again. “So you’ll promise me, right?” the latter asks yet again, leaning down to extend her pinky with her grin only growing wider.

“I promise,” Ningguang replies with a nod, wrapping her pinky around Beidou’s.

As promised, Ningguang returns to the same spot the very next day, though a little later. “Mom, you can go on and work! I’ll be fine sitting here on my own!” Beidou whines, rocking her mother’s arm as she searches for more reasons to be left alone. Many say that she got her personality from her mother, with the same never-ending curiosity and loud chortle. Her mother gives her a suspicious look, wrapping a piece of cloth tighter around her forehead. “You can really go!” she insists, pushing her mother on towards the ships docked at the harbour.

“Are you sure you’re not doing anything wrong?” her mother questions suspiciously, raising an eyebrow while she rises on her toes to search the background. Beidou folds her arms and pouts, adamant to see her mother go before she turns her back. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to answer the endless questions she’d have ready for her upon her mother finding out about her new neighbourhood friends of sorts, she taps her foot against the ground. “Alright, alright. Be a good girl then,” the older woman exclaims, waving her hand through the air.

“Stay safe!” Beidou waves back, flailing both arms in the air. When she’s sure that her mother has gone far enough, she whirls around on her heel, prancing along the dock with a skip in her step. She raises her gaze to the sky to estimate the time and realise Ningguang should be out here by now. “Ning? Are you there?” she asks, peering around.

Ningguang emerges from the cover of the bushes, clothes more ragged than they were before. Beidou extends a hand and pulls her out of the shrubbery, wondering why they always meet here when she could simply wait in the open. “You called me Ning?” the girl asks, flaring out the skirt of her yellow dress which is decorated with a repeated pattern of glaze lilies. Her attention is quickly averted once she feels something tickle her legs and Ningguang frowns at the sight of her clothes. “This was my favourite dress…” she grimaces, brushing off snips of grass freckled across its cloth.

Beidou glances around to figure out what she should do and out of instinct, crouches to gather water in her cupped hands. She manages to do so only barely without slipping, and then she stands, splashing the saline water against a large splotch of damp mud on her friend’s dress. She kneels on the ground while Ningguang watches intently, fingernails pressed against her lips. Beidou ends up smudging it further, although a large portion of it has faded into a lighter colour.

Ningguang sulks, lips curving into a scowl of disappointment.

“It’s okay! Don’t be sad!” Beidou insists, appalled by the sheer look of sadness on Ningguang’s face.

Ningguang sucks in a breath, knowing she has no place to complain when she caused the problem because of her own actions. She hugs her chest with her arms, lowering her gaze sadly. “I’ll just wash it when I’m home,” she forces a smile, but the sadness is far too obvious in her tone. Beidou’s hand twitches behind her back as her gaze scans the surroundings intently, searching for something—anything—that could put a smile on Ningguang’s face. She doesn’t like seeing people sulk, and the same goes to farther extents when it comes down to those she cares about. It’s soon after this point where an epiphany hits her and she gasps.

“Follow me,” Beidou announces and grips onto Ningguang’s wrist. She pulls the other girl along without a warning, and against her will as well, though the latter struggles to break out of her tight grip in the first place. Beidou dashes swiftly through the streets, dodging passers-by who ignore their presence through the busy afternoon street. She does this often enough to know strangers don’t care for the presence of one person. Ningguang runs till it feels as though her legs won’t last her, and she lets out a whine as she tries to beckon for the rambunctious girl to stop. “We’re almost there,” Beidou huffs, still managing the energy to squeak out a sentence despite the dashing.

They stop at some corner of Liyue that Ningguang hasn’t ventured into—the pavilion with the homes of the richer folk like merchants and the respectable figures she doesn’t know the names of. She has heard of them through word on the street every now and then when a new rule is passed, and sometimes she has wished to be so famous that even strangers on the street would speak of her name with absolute care. Beidou stops right before they can enter through its gate, leaning forward with one hand pressed against her lap to catch her breath. One hand, rather sweaty, is still clamped around Ningguang’s, holding her in place.

“Why did you… bring me—here?” Ningguang presses her hand against her throat, feeling it burn from the run.

“Wait here,” Beidou instructs, parting their hands to run into the crowd. Ningguang stands properly, glancing around nervously at the crowd that envelopes her. She slips away silently to a side where she presses her back against the wall, lowering her gaze to the empty grass on the ground. Her thoughts evaporate—although there were no significant ones in the first place except what else to do with Beidou. She fears, one day, Beidou would get tired of her too and she’d be left dawdling on her own along the painfully familiar streets of Liyue. It seems as though too long has passed until Beidou finally returns, bearing a flower in her hands.

“What?” the question peels off Ningguang’s lips before she wishes for them to, distractedly curling her fingers around the stalk of the glaze lily. It has always been her favourite flower, although she hasn’t seen her growing around these parts of Liyue. She has heard distant tales about their growth on the vast, open fields somewhere beyond the city itself—but she has never had the chance to venture beyond the city walls where her parents warn that it’s too dangerous to go.

“Your dress got ruined so I thought getting you the flower would make you happy,” Beidou flashes a wobbly grin, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. Ningguang accepts the flowers and lifts it to her nose, inhaling its scent. She lets out a sigh of satisfaction, expression melted into a gentle one as her chest warms at her friend’s attempt to better her mood. “Well, did it work?” Beidou questions, folding her arms behind her back.

“Thank you,” is all Ningguang says in response, but she knows deeply that it did.

Beidou shoves Ningguang into a bush when she sees her mother return to the docks, untying the bandana from her hair. She mumbles a quick apology, but doesn’t provide a reason as she rushes to her mother’s side excitedly. She glances back once to catch a look of Ningguang, but she doesn’t manage to until her name is called out. “Meimei, what’d you do all day?” her mother asks, lifting her daughter into the air.

“Mama!” Beidou protests, kicking her legs around in the air vigorously. Her mother has always enjoyed teasing her, but Beidou has only gotten more embarrassed about it the older she got. She loves her mother dearly, and her family tells her that she’ll get used to it with time seeing as though Beidou’s becoming quite the character herself. Her mother notices her momentary distraction and sets the girl down, dusting her hands.

“You found a new friend, didn’t you?” her mother asks outright. Beidou stiffens, and she knows that any denying would only make her sound suspicious. She remains silent and when she realises that there’s no easy way to weasel out of the situation, turns her back and hikes off. “I won’t ask any questions. You should know you can tell me about anything,” her mother insists, scrambling after her daughter.

She extends a hand and closes it around the curve of Beidou’s shoulder, holding her back before she runs off into the crowd and out of view. Beidou turns and notices the expression on her mother’s face—finding it far too hard to peel away a second time. She relents, and nods with a simple smile curling on her lips.

“I like her,” Beidou remarks with a soft smile. “She doesn’t talk very much but she listens well. And she’s also very pretty, so I hope we’re friends for a long time,” she prays. Ningguang happens to hear this while she’s still hiding in her bush, knees pressed against her chest. She buries her face in the crevice between her knees, staring at the dirt with not a thought in her mind.

“Sounds like you like her a lot,” Beidou’s mother replies, though with a knowing smile.

Beidou returns to the city again as planned, in the morning right when her mother has to leave for work on the docks and she’d be left at the very same place. Weeks have passed with the same routine and Ningguang shows up on time every day, even if she claims to never have a watch on her. Beidou’s mother doesn’t dilly-dally much longer now that she knows Beidou has friends to keep her company during the day and instead heads right off to work with a reminder for the young girl to come back when it’s due time. All that’s missing among this all is, well, Ningguang, which scares Beidou a little because she’s never late. “Where are you?” she asks around, parting the bushes with her hands.

“Ningning?” Beidou calls out, using the nickname she’d adopted over time for her friend, one that Ningguang never fails to respond to. It’s not because she likes it any better, but because she always tries to argue that it’s too cute of a nickname for someone like her. “Where are you?” she cries out again, though nobody responds to her. Instinctively, she leaves the docks and vanishest amidst the crowd to search for her friend. She knows all she needs is a glimpse to know where she is—though with the searching and looking for several minutes that go by, her efforts are left in vain.

Beidou’s heart sinks as her running slows into a jog and then a disappointed walk. The sound of her heavy steps echo through the crowd, as she slides out from the cover of people. She purses her lips and lowers her head, praying for the world to help her just a little—to aid her in her finding. The strong scent of glaze lilies punctures the air, wafting to Beidou and beckoning her to raise her gaze. “Huh?” she says, and in her view, she sees a lady selling perfumes. She edges closer and with enough effort, sees Ningguang crouched on the ground, crushing flowers with a mortar. “Ningguang?” she asks herself, though she knows well there’s only one girl who looks like Ningguang—and it’s the girl herself.

Beidou creeps closer, ensuring that she isn’t seen. Her heart thumps loudly within her chest so she presses a hand over it in a feeble attempt to hide its sound, fearing that the strangers around her might hear it. She slips behind a cover of darkness hanging over a narrow alley between two buildings, allowing her enough secrecy as she peers her head out and watches Ningguang. The young girl squats with the mortar between her legs, grinding petals to be used for perfume. An elderly woman sits on a cushion beside her, in front of a wooden makeshift stall with a sign tipping sideways and close to falling.

“Nai nai, can I go?” Ningguang pleads, lifting her head from the mortar. Behind them, clear containers filled with silk flowers sit untouched, expecting attention. An older woman, with the same white hair and delicate features as Ningguang, returns from the side of the street that Beidou had come from as well, holding a crate of bottled perfumes. “Mama, can I go?” Ningguang asks again, averting her gaze to the woman who Beidou infers to be her mother.

“Ningning, we have too much work to do today. What are we going to do when the sales peak during the tourist season? We already cannot keep up with stock,” her mother replies, an expression of pity on her face. Beidou’s chest clenches at the sight, seeing how much the lady is trying to care for her daughter’s wishes. “Now, why do you want to go?” she questions again, extending a hand to cup Ningguang’s cheek with care.

“My friend’s waiting for me…” she replies meekly.

“Ningning, you know you don’t have enough time to make friends. Why do you still try?” her mother sighs, shaking her head. Before she can get an answer from her daughter, she stands and adjusts the position of the crate in her hands. She slides more vials of perfume from the counter and fixes her purple robes before she prepares herself to leave. “You can’t go today. Stay here and help you nai nai with the flowers, okay?”

Ningguang sucks in a breath and collapses on the ground disappointedly. For just a second, she lifts her gaze and turns it towards the path leading out to the docks, and Beidou can tell from the faraway look in her gaze how badly she wants to go. And of course, knowing she has no other option but to keep her dearest friend company, Beidou emerges from the cover of the walls and skips merrily towards the shop. “Do you mind if I help you?” she questions out of the blue, taking Ningguang by surprise. The latter raises her head, eyes widening out of surprise. Her hands clench tighter around the grip of the mortar, as if she’s trying to process the situation. When Ningguang doesn’t speak up with her consent, Beidou turns to the elderly woman seated at the side.

“Auntie, do you mind if I help you today? I’m Ningguang’s good friend and my name is Beidou,” she introduces with an enthusiastic bow, both hands cupped behind her back formally. Ningguang grips onto Beidou’s wrist and yanks her away, pushing herself onto her feet as well. “—What?” Beidou huffs, questioning the disturbed look on Ningguang’s face.

“You shouldn’t be helping me!” she scolds, with as much bite as she can muster in her voice. “You should be going out and playing with your other friends! This is going to take all day and you’re not going to have any fun sitting here and doing it with me—”

“Oh!” the elderly woman exclaims from the side, lowering the mortar from her hands. “Aren’t you—Nan—Nanxing’s daughter?” she points out, face glimmering with euphoria. Ningguang and Beidou exchange a questioning stare, considering it’s an awkward and rather amusing way to end an argument that was barely just a scolding. Beidou nods in agreement, to which the elder grins, “Your mother is a very friendly woman. You look a lot like her. And—if you want to, Ningning and I would appreciate your help. Right?”

Ningguang nods silently and sits on the ground obediently. She pats the space on the ground next to her and hides her face, feeling a little guilty that she’d scolded Beidou out of impulse. “I’ll get what you need,” she says quietly while standing, making sure the former is settled properly in her place. Beidou wrenches her neck as Ningguang stumbles to the back, pulling out containers of flowers and an extra stone mortar in her hands. The one in her grip looks rather old, with cracks emerging from its surface. “This one’s a little broken but I hope it’ll do,” Ningguang says, lowering the necessary ingredients onto the ground for Beidou to use.

“How do I do this?” Beidou asks with a tilt in her head, lifting the mortar to her gaze. Ningguang leans sideways, pressing her hands over Beidou’s to take control. With careful and calculated movements, she slowly guides Beidou through the process—which truly isn’t much except making sure all of the petals are crushed properly into powder before being added into the water. Beidou’s skin flushes where Ningguang holds it and she nods her head with grit. “I won’t disappoint you!” she exclaims, gripping onto the pestle tighter.

“I don’t think you will,” Ningguang replies coolly, settling in her own seat. Not even a minute passes till Beidou finds herself quickly bothered by how solid and hard the ground is, or how much the cacophony of the grinding pestle and crowd’s sounds is bugging her. She glances to the side to watch how Ningguang’s doing it before turning her gaze back to her own with a nervous gulp. Beidou tries to focus on her task as much as she can, although her fidgeting doesn’t make it any easier to keep her focus. She presses the edged bottom of the mortar against her legs and presses the pestle down in a repeated motion. Ningguang looks over, holding her hand without a warning. “You’re doing it wrong,” she clarifies.

Beidou allows Ningguang to handle the mortar while she watches. “You need to twist the pestle while you’re crushing it and use more force so it’s pressed into paste. You’re handling it correctly overall but for it to be faster, you need to use the proper method.” Beidou watches intently, intending to do it properly now that she’s been taught. Snatching the mortar back, she does it properly this time and once she finds the rhythm in her actions—does so without complaint. She sits obediently and assists through the entire day, till the sun sets over them once again. Ningguang’s grandmother prepares xianyu (salted fish skin) for them to eat, during their occasional breaks till eventually Ningguang’s mother returns from her selling.

“Who’s this?” the woman asks, wrinkles creasing her skin as she smiles politely. Ningguang lowers her gaze, too nervous to give a proper answer to her mother.

“Nanxing’s daughter. She and Ningning are good friends,” Ningguang’s grandmother chirrups, interrupting the exchange. Ningguang’s mother nods in response, expression morphing into one of pleasant surprise. “She helped us with the work today,” the elder adds. Beidou nods when she’s looked at for confirmation, quickly standing on her feet to offer her greetings.

“Oh, you really didn’t have to,” Ningguang’s mother grins. Ningguang watches from the side, a shiver running across the bare surface of the skin as a canvas of colours melts into subliminity overhead. Her lips part in surprise as a gentle breeze from the ocean blows in her direction, sending a drifting silk flower her way. A petal lingering in the air lands on her nose and Ningguang’s heart throbs at the sight of Beidou standing with her highlighted silhouette, one arm pressed against her waist while she rambles so animatedly about sweet-nothings. She swallows and an army of butterflies erupts from the pit of her stomach.

Ningguang feels this way when she sees Beidou again years later when Liyue’s shop houses have grown into brilliant buildings with terracotta textured roofs and the small docks have flourished into a home to massive ships and traders wandering from all nations. It is sunset when Ningguang first sees her again—and her feelings remain true to what they were during her childhood.

Ningguang, now the Tianquan of Liyue, watches as Beidou alights a mighty ship, having the same bright expression and pearly grin. Her heart throbs loudly, blurring the line between agony and love.

Beidou lurches awake the following morning to the sound of her stomach churning beneath her flesh. She presses an arm against her stomach as she squeezes her eyes tightly shut, forcing the throbbing ache in her head to numb itself. She retches, and immediately presses a hand against her lips, the other pale and lain against her blanketed lap. “Annoying dream,” she grimaces, waving off unstrung memories that make no sense. Beidou has been bombarded with useless dreams she can’t understand of late—all bearing reminders of a person from her past that she doesn’t truly know.

As she wonders how long she’s been asleep, she hears footsteps outside, just beyond the door of her personal cabin. She feels sicker than she does on most mornings after wrecking herself with alcohol, but forces herself off her bed when she hears the commotion outside. Beidou turns her gaze back out through the tiny window over her bedside table and realises it’s too bright to be morning. She sighs again, but this time visibly disappointed in herself. Too lethargic to panic, she trudges out, though with a lingering guilt to have slept in while the crew woke up early as per usual. Beidou rubs away the blurriness in her eyes as she walks with a grumbling stomach. Shortly in front of her, she hears two familiar voices whispering amongst themselves behind the cover of a stack of barrels.

“What are we going to do?” Huixing panics, looking around. She tries to hush her voice, but Yinxing maintains her uninterested demeanour. From what little can be seen through a gap between the barrels, Beidou reads that her eyebrows are raised—a sign that she’s thinking.

“I don’t know. She’ll be mad if we try to wake her up while she’s hungover—and we don’t have enough food to prepare for breakfast. And we didn’t manage to renew our license for running the ship because the Qixing didn’t approve of it,” Yinxing lists, seemingly worsening the outlook of the situation. Beidou straightens her back, cupping a hand against her mouth with widened eyes. She gulps, eyes darting around as the reality of her situation finally crashes down on her, leaving her lingering dizziness in smithereens.

“But the Tianquan—she’s waiting outside and Suling can’t hold her up anymore—! You’re supposed to be smart, Yinxing, help me!” Huixing begs, shaking Yinxing by the shoulder. The poor surgeon stands there with her eyebrows creased downwards now in worry, pushing her glasses further up her nose bridge in thought. She grips onto Yinxing’s arms and forces her into a pause as she glances around almost warily. Beidou ducks a little lower.

“I’m a surgeon, not a therapist. I take hearts out of people’s chests, I don’t know what else they do while they’re in it,” she explains bluntly. “I’d suggest we focus on more important issues like how we’re going to gather enough funds to buy more food or get the license—”

Beidou tightens her first. “That won’t be necessary,” she announces stiffly as she emerges from the barrels, catching both women off guard. Huixing presses a hand against her mouth in shock and Yinxing remains stiff in her spot, just as the rest of the crew watches their captain storm off board with steps leaving the floorboards creaking under her weight. Beidou wipes a tear of exhaustion out of eye and forces her mind off her aching stomach, fixing her eyes on the woman clad in golden robes standing just beyond the ship. She seems to be talking calmly with Suling, who instead looks as though he’s panicking. “What do you want from me, lady?”

“Well, I must say, that’s no way to speak to an aristocrat,” Ningguang answers coolly, something like a smirk curling on her lips. She fans herself nonchalantly, with such a stoic and aristocratic aura that it sickens Beidou even further. She folds her arms against her chest, not so much to show attitude but because standing without any support is killing her in broad daylight.

“Some aristocrat you are, bothering a mere captain like me,” Beidou spits back. Suling slowly takes steps backwards and flees while he can. Crew members spare glances towards the unfolding scene, though it consists only of either woman staring at the other, one’s smile gradually falling and the other barely holding it together. Every passing second reminds Beidou of another regret she’d buried with all the promises she should’ve kept—like never drinking alcohol again. She says it every time, and it never works when it comes to a minor inconvenience that has her chest clenches and mind throbbing. Ningguang notices the dark circles hanging under Beidou’s eyes and purses her lips, as if knowing of its cause.

“Were you drinking again?” she asks as though she’s known Beidou’s habits for long enough. Out of instinct, she extends a hand and holds Beidou’s shoulder gingerly, only for her attempt at comfort to be swiftly denied and her hand is slapped away. “Ah—” she muffles an exclamation, retracting her hand quickly once it’d been smacked. Her expression morphs into one of pain as she takes a hesitant step back, and not really because she’s been denied but because once again, she has managed to get on Beidou’s nerves.

“What are you trying to do?!” Beidou yells, voice edged with annoyance. “Why do you associate with me as if you’ve known me forever? Do you think you can make fun of my situation because you’re rich and you’re in a position to treat me like—”

“No, no—it isn’t like that,” Ningguang corrects, voice softer than she’d like it to be. She lowers her gaze and clutches onto her purse to force herself to maintain composure. Beidou heaves, chest rising and falling rapidly as the impact of the hit burns against her palm, and where Ningguang had touched stings almost as if like an injury. “You weren’t like this before,” she blurts against her will, thoughts pouring out on her tongue and defying her own wishes.

“Please—if you’re going to bother me then please,” Beidou clasps her hands over her head. “Take your leave. I have enough on my shoulders,” she pleads. Ningguang’s chest clenches and upon glancing around, notices the curious gazes of passers-by and travelers. She sucks in a breath and with a curt nod, turns her back to Beidou. Though as she toils further along the path, her expression darkens and she regrets leaving without an apology.

Predictably, Beidou’s day is soon rudely interrupted with an invitation to the Jade Chamber. Ningguang doesn’t show up this time—which Beidou almost snorts at, perhaps thinking she’d done enough to hurt the ego of the Tianquan—but the messenger isn’t any better. “I don’t want to go,” Beidou announces simply to the messenger, dismissing her.

“It is the Qixing’s order,” the messenger emphasises stiffly, not budging from her spot. Beidou furrows her brows and squints incredulously at the audacity of the lady standing in front of her. There is no name or context attached to the sudden summon, but Beidou can fairly distinguish what it had to do with. She recalls the unpaid taxes and silences any defiant statement she might’ve mustered in her mind. “I’d advise you to—” she starts again when Beidou stares at her cynically.

“Agree? I know,” the captain interjects. “What will she do if I don’t agree?” Beidou echoes, deciding Ningguang has already done just about the worst by stopping by the harbour every now and then, sometimes approaching with unwanted gestures and most others watching over it from a faraway distance. Beidou only knows because she watches too, subconsciously searching for Ningguang which she claims to be an act of ‘scouring her enemies’.

The messenger’s expressionless demeanour falters as she cups both hands behind her back in a feeble attempt to calm herself in front of the stubborn captain. She bites back a nervous gulp. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I can only advise you to take up the offer. It would only be the best.” And Beidou makes an expression of vague pity for the messenger, and the rest of the fleet which have been suffering due to her stubbornness to associate with Ningguang. She folds her arms and presses her fingers against her temples.

“Send my regards to the Tianquan. I’ll go,” Beidou confirms with a sigh, turning her gaze out to the Crux Fleet crew working hard on the docks. Her God’s Eye chimes to the swaying of a passing breeze, and she realises she can’t run for much longer.

For all that her ego’s worth prancing up to the Jade Chamber with the pathetic identity of a mere sailor, there is nothing like standing in front of the building itself. Beidou swallows her pride and bunches her fists at her sides, the grandeur of the place unmatched to any other she might’ve wandered. For someone of her calibur, she has heard—at most—rumours about the Jade Chamber and the Tianquan herself, about how few people are allowed in its vicinity. Beidou glances around and the traitorous feeling of not belonging creeps into her mind.

Beidou would like to think she’s far better than Lady Ningguang, having the title and local praise to back her up—but the Tianquan’s legends hold mysteries respected far more by Liyue. So maybe, just for a second, Beidou would have to humble herself.

Beidou’s undereye twitches and she feels her heart pick up pace for reasons unknown to herself. She raises her gaze to the endless azure sky, and the blurred silhouette of passing birds fluttering just by her and not far overhead. She realises, only now, that she is better off riding the tides of the waves than floating amidst the gentle clouds. With the loud churning of gears and a strong shake in the ground, Beidou’s attention is snatched by the slow opening gates of the Chamber. “The Tianquan awaits your presence,” a confidant welcomes with a polite bow.

Millelith soldiers stand at guard, stony expressions fazed by nothing. Beidou clears her throat and loosens her posture, striding into the Jade Chamber with what little is left of her pride. The shrill cry of a white crane reverberates through the air.

Ningguang does not stand even once to greet Beidou, and instead gestures for her to sit with a swift motion of her hand. Her lips curve into what barely is an inviting smile, and covers it with the delicate porcelain cup in her grip. Her smile sings mystery, and she wears an expression as though her approaches haven’t been rejected several times before. Beidou thinks that, maybe, this is an attempt to intimidate her. “I heard you gave my messengers a lot of trouble.”

“What can I say? I’m a busy woman,” Beidou grunts, kicking one leg over the other. Her heart almost skips a beat when she mistakenly believes to have kicked the table. Ningguang stifles a laugh when she notices a brief moment of panic cross the captain’s face. “Oh please, do you always find humour in my sorrow?” Beidou snaps, frustration laced in her tone.

“Nonsense,” Ningguang replies, though with another giggle. “The only way I could ever force you into a conversation was by summoning you here, so you can trust that I haven’t kept you here only to humour myself,” she sighs, shaking her head with mirth. Beidou makes an uninterested expression in response to this as she spreads her legs and cups her hands between them. She tilts her head, expecting Ningguang to break the silence and elaborate on her reason for summoning her, but—perhaps mockingly—she continues to sip on her tea.

“There must be some reason as to why you’re wasting your time on a mere sailor like me. Pray tell, what are your reasons for calling me here?” Beidou smiles, though Ningguang can tell from across the table that it isn’t sincere. She rests her tea against the silver platter in front, and Beidou’s remains untouched since she arrived. Beidou can tell that from the sudden shift in her movements that she finally plans on speaking and she intends to remain silent this time and listen—getting this situation over with as possible would, after all, be the most ideal.

“I heard the Crux Fleet have been running low on supplies and that you are struggling to make ends meet, so I believe that—” Ningguang starts plainly, and a section of her dress parts to reveal the golden tattoo of a dragon on her thigh. Beidou drags her fingers against her thigh and her expression darkens with annoyance. Ningguang pauses, and she almost hears the crackle of lightning. Yet when she averts her gaze, she notices the sky beyond the windows is clear.

“Who do you take me for?” Beidou bickers, voice calm like that which passes before a storm. “Do you think that my crew and I are so pathetic that we won’t survive without the Qixing’s help? So that’s your intention—to torture us, and for what? What benefit do you get?” Beidou stands firmly, raising her voice with each word leaving her mouth. Ningguang flinches, eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of Beidou growing agitated.

“Pardon?” the Tianquan questions, not losing her calm. And Beidou’s aware, that from all perspectives, she seems like the worse person in the situation. She writhes, fists trembling with anger as she keeps her teeth clenched in a feeble attempt to keep herself from losing her composure. Ningguang’s servants and confidants who have been standing in the area pause to observe the situation, staring at Beidou pointedly—like she’s a villain. Beidou closes her eyes and inhales sharply, realising that any action she may consider next would only further worsen a situation that has spiralled too far out of hand.

Dusting her sleeves, she turns firmly on her heel, leaving with the nothing she’d come with. At least she’d arrived with pride—yet she now leaves with a tarnished name. Before she can even reach a hand out for the door’s handle, some of the servants pull her back by her arm, resisting her from leaving. Beidou grunts, trying with as little strength as possible to break out of their grip. With further struggle, she relents and turns her back harshly to the Tianquan who has remained seated with the same cold, stoic demeanour. “You know what—this is what I hate about rich aristocrats like you. You look down on people like me because my entire world isn’t about money and because I actually have the heart to look at others for once.”

Ningguang visibly winces at this, fingers trembling from discomfort. She averts her gaze, and she wears such a pained look on her face that Beidou could not have ever imagined it on the face of such a phlegmatic woman. “And you—” Beidou heaves, “You think you can do whatever you want because you have the right and the authority. You must be proud of it all.”

When the attendants try to beckon the guards into the Chamber, Ningguang raises her hand stiffly and raises her gaze to meet Beidou’s eyes, “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I won’t force you to stay, but if you do then please allow me the chance to explain why I’ve been seeking your attention.” And because she has finally been given the permission, Beidou doesn’t stay. She throws a venomous glare at the attendants circling her and bursts through the door, biting back a traitorous feeling of guilt welling up from within the depths of her heart. As she leaves through the gates of the Jade Chamber—a place far too mighty for someone as undeserving as herself—she wonders how she’ll tell the Crux Fleet that she has failed as their captain, once again.

After a night of turmoil and little sleep, Beidou awakes to the pleasant news of the Qixing renewing their travel and trade licenses, making it possible for them to embark on their mission as planned. While the rest of the Fleet celebrates over the good news, Beidou starts to wonder if she was too harsh on the Tianquan—and if she should, perhaps apologise. Ningguang does not show up at the harbour for the next week—and out of nowhere, the problem they’d been having with their shipment of ingredients from the grocer is also solved. The crew rejoices over this matter as well, all congratulating Beidou for reasons unknown to the captain herself.

And unsurprisingly, Beidou isn’t so satisfied about the resolved problems. She only finds happiness in the bare fact that the Fleet has smiles on their faces.

Beidou happens to be in the city after a week of Ningguang’s absence. Though she would not admit it, she is gravely, gravely curious about the Tianquan’s disappearance. After seeing her so often around the docks, to see her gone all the time has started to perturb Beidou ever so slightly. Kazuha, having noticed her disturbance and constant distraction during work, suggested that she leave to take a breather—which in Beidou’s understanding is to clear her mind. So she ventures to the only place she could find any solace in, the city that she’d grown up in. Liyue, in all honesty, somewhat frightens her in its vastness and grandeur.

When she was a child, it used to be so small and easy to roam—and the crowds were nothing like the bustling and packed crowds that now wander the streets of the Harbour. Returning to the city has always brought with it a different memory to return to Beidou, a feeling of wistfulness and nostalgia that is wholly incomplete. Sometimes, she wishes they would return to her faster—these precious memories of her childhood which have left her so quickly.

As she finds herself back at the edge of the city, where there is a massive tree and the streets cut off into four different paths, she catches the faint scent of perfume in the air. She sniffs, and presses a finger against her nose gently. She turns her head and instead of the source of the smell, she happens to catch sight of something far more… confusing. Beidou pauses abruptly at the sight of Ningguang crouched on her knees somewhere in the middle of the street, holding sweets in her hand. There is a child in front of her, tawny hair ruffled and off-white clothes stained and tattered. Beidou can’t find it in herself to hide—and then she wonders if she should be at all. Ningguang is too distracted to notice her presence.

“I promise they’re good,” Ningguang insists with the brightest smile Beidou has ever seen on her. Typically, she has a fierce demeanour not in the sense that she is harsh, but associates rarely with people beyond the Qixing and her few attendants. The child reaches a hand forward warily and closes his hand around the sweet. He looks at Ningguang again for reassurance. “I keep my word,” the Tianquan comforts and the child pops the candy into his mouth.

Beidou lowers her gaze, and something about it all feels so vaguely familiar to her—those words, she has heard them before. Her heart throbs. And now, she starts to feel a little guilty for making assumptions about the Tianquan without ever truly knowing her. She’d always taken it as though Ningguang only takes interest in wasting her time, always loitering around the docks without reason, or without care for time that is not her own. As much as she would like to believe it, Beidou realises a smile so sincere could only come from someone who cares deeply.

“Oh, it’s so good!” the child squeals, breaking Beidou’s brief train of thought. Ningguang’s smile grows to her eyes, and now she nods in response to the little boy’s joy. Beidou can’t name how much time has passed since she started watching, but the boy eventually leaves and Ningguang remains squatted on the ground, her smile falling in his absence. The captain raises an eyebrow.

“Did my lecture hurt your pride too much the other day?” Beidou speaks up, approaching the Tianquan without a warning. Ningguang doesn’t seem fazed by the sudden approach, only vaguely uncomfortable because she hadn’t prepared her mind for a conversation of this nature. “I know you do not expect this from me but I figured I owe you an apology for the outburst the other day.”

“You were correct. I didn’t expect this from you,” Ningguang replies shortly.

Beidou lets out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “Do you—uh—want to go to Wanmin? I can’t afford the Liyue Pavilion or anything grand like that but I have the day off and we can go elsewhere if you…” Beidou rambles, uncharacteristically nervous. Ningguang, as much as she would like to be amused, is only surprised. She shifts, and upon closer inspection, one would notice the faint blush dusting her cheeks.

“Anywhere you bring me will suffice,” Ningguang corrects, and Beidou can only smile in response. It’s only once they’ve started walking together that the captain starts to wonder what spurred this unplanned approach and how little she must’ve thought this through to blatantly approach the Tianquan herself with nothing but an offer to eat at the local restaurant. “May I know what prompted this sudden change in your demeanour?” Ningguang asks quietly, fanning herself lightly with her hand fan—a little more anxious than usual.

“I don’t know,” Beidou blurts honestly. She’d been so sure the nature of her feelings towards Ningguang only existed as hatred, till only a few minutes ago. “Probably just felt bad for reading your actions the wrong way. Ah—and I owe you a thanks for clearing the issues with the…” Beidou adds, lifting a finger in the air. When she turns to look at Ningguang, she realises that the Tianquan had already been staring with the most curious look in her crimson eyes. They bear a colour that is perhaps a few shades darker than silk flowers, but she has a scent like glaze lilies. Interesting.

“Captain? You’re gawking,” Ningguang snickers, waving her fan in front of Beidou’s eyes. The captain blinks away the distractedness and quickly averts her eyes with a creeping blush on her cheeks. “My my, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” she teases, though softer this time. Beidou hikes forward to reserve two seats at Wanmin, raising two fingers to order two plates of something, and Ningguang prays that it isn’t anything wild.

“If spice is a problem for you, I’d consider praying already,” Beidou says with a smirk as Ningguang slides into one of the stools in front of the restaurant. She adjusts her clothes and otherwise, doesn’t seem to be fazed by the fact that she’s eating at a place that isn’t roamed only by the richest of Liyue. She catches a whiff of strong chilli in the air, which leaves her reeling. Beidou smirks mischievously at the reaction.

“What is that smell?” Ningguang coughs, trying to hide her scrunched nose behind her fan. Beidou shrugs nonchalantly, pretending as though it does not faze her—which it does, and she starts to regret only a little for asking Xiangling to add extra chili to a dish which has a spicy base.

“Don’t tell me that the local spice is too much for you, my lady?”

“I thought mockery was my expertise,” Ningguang rolls her eyes. “Now, captain, I’m sure you did not intend to waste your day with a mere exchange of pleasantries,” she smiles cheekily, pressing her cheek against the face of her palm. There is something so vaguely attractive about the woman’s stare, how she manages to hold it so easily while Beidou flusters, or how her delicate skin would look so perfect, flushed under the captain’s fingertips. Beidou clears her throat before losing herself to an unwelcome distraction—this distraction that goes by the name of Ningguang—and sits properly in hopes of composing herself.

“Go on then,” Beidou insists, fixing her gaze on Ningguang. She finds herself fidgeting with her chopsticks and kicking her legs lazily as she listens closely to the Tianquan dawdle on with her speech without a hitch in her breath. She counts her points on her fingers, and Beidou has to interject every now and then to ask for the meaning of a word or the shorter version of a sentence to spare her brain from the extra trouble. By the time the food arrives, Ningguang pauses and Beidou is grateful that she does—eyeing the plates of Jeyeun Guoba. Xiangling slides forward too glasses of milk with a slight warning of its spice, though her warnings often lie far from its true taste. Ningguang does not know this though, and Beidou looks forward to using it to her advantage.

“I’m entrusting the well-being of my digestive system to you, Beidou,” Ningguang reminds, picking up her chopsticks whilst bracing herself for the spice. The captain lets out a haughty laugh, having forgotten the fatigue that followed the end of Ningguang’s speech. “And also, after the meal, I’ll have to bring you through the terms—”

“Ning, I get it,” Beidou groans out of instinct, interrupting the Tianquan before she can continue her lecture. “You want me to do the dirty work that you and the Qixing can’t do and in exchange, you’ll take care of me and the Crux Fleet, right? Can’t we eat before you decide how else you want to work with this?” she continues, forgetting instantly how she’d addressed the Tianquan in such a carefree manner. Ningguang, on the other hand, doesn’t let go of it so easily and halts for a moment. A soft smile grows on her lips at the sound of the name she’d missed so dearly, and Beidou notices this upon side-glancing.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason.”

Surprisingly, Ningguang finishes her plate whilst licking her lips with satisfaction, face flushed only slightly red from the spice. Beidou, on the other hand, struggles even after drinking three separate bottles of milk—fanning her mouth relentlessly to cool herself down. Ningguang makes the mental note that Beidou’s funny when she swallows her pride and Beidou realises that perhaps the Tianquan knows the local spice better than her tongue.

When evening falls and they are left wandering the hushed dark paths of the Harbour, Beidou decides it’s about time she returns to the ship with the news of the deal with the Qixing. Ningguang, though reluctant to let her go, doesn’t voice her worries. “Why? Will you miss me too much?” Beidou teases when she notices the reluctance in Ningguang’s actions.

“Hilarious,” Ningguang snorts, folding her arms. Beidou grins, the most genuine one Ningguang has seen from her. She takes a few steps backwards, and it takes running into a pole for the captain to realise that doing so isn’t the best idea. Rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, she shows a final wave and quickens her pace into a jog, leaving through the winding path that leads back to the harbour—crossing the Adventurer’s Guild and a row of shops. Ningguang smiles, or she tries to, but there is only sadness laced in her eyes. Alas, even the new experiences fail to replace the old ones she’d tried so hard to let go of.

“I don’t want you to go,” Ningguang sniffles, hiding her face from Beidou. Beidou stands upon the stairs of the ship waiting to take her away. Her mother has already boarded it, leaving her daughter the space and a little time to properly express her farewells. Ningguang holds onto Beidou’s hand like it’s the last she’ll ever get to do with her, barely managing the tears staining her cheeks. “Who will I talk to when you’re gone?” she wails, voice breaking.

“Ningning, don’t be sad. We’re older now, and you’ll be fine without me!” Beidou assures, pressing her hands against Ningguang’s shoulders. She struggles to hide the pain in her own voice, but she has mentally prepared herself enough over the weeks to get over the devastation of it all. It isn’t easy—in fact the weight of this all still leaves her crushed on the inside. But if she isn’t strong now, then would the last memory Ningguang would have of her be of tears?

“I don’t want to be without you,” Ningguang protests, raising her voice. “You’re the only one I want to be with,” she yells, hitting Beidou’s chest. And after those words, she is left with nothing except what little strength that remains in her muscles. She presses her head where Beidou’s heart lies beneath her chest, clutching onto her shirt with fear of letting her go. Beidou lifts Ningguang’s head and pulls her into a final hug, holding her tightly.

“You’ll be great, with or without me,” Beidou comforts.

“What if you forget me?” Ningguang sniffles, voice hushing into what almost is silence. Beidou shakes her head, closing her eyes as she snakes her hands down to her friend’s waist.

“I promise I won’t,” Beidou chokes out, forcing back tears. “I could never forget you,” and her composure completely shatters at the last word. Ningguang hides her face in a crevice of Beidou’s neck, finding her solace and what little she can keep of Beidou’s warmth with herself. Enough time passes for either of them to realise that there is simply not enough time for them to keep holding on. Not enough time for the forever they’d hoped for in the beginning.

Beidou’s mother calls out her name in the distance and it is when they separate, but not completely, because both of them fear letting go. “I promise I’ll make Liyue a better home for you. Promise you’ll return to me one day and we’ll be together again?” Ningguang asks, squeezing Beidou’s hands. Beidou nods and pulls her hands away till only their fingertips brush.

“I promise.”

And it remains, in the future, as the only one that is unfulfilled.

The Crux Fleet is unexpectedly overjoyed by the news of the deal cut with the Tianquan, fawning over the end of an enmity built off wrongful misunderstandings. Some celebrate the hopeful future that awaits them and others dawdle slightly longer on the prospect of being able to meet Lady Ningguang herself when she comes down to the docks every now and then. Beidou receives most tasks adjacently with Ganyu, who is often in the area and finds it convenient to deliver. She often makes jokes about how their friendship is so ironic—considering she and the Qixing would not have been on good terms if not for the sudden deal.

Ningguang rarely calls Beidou over for meetings, but has made it clear enough that the captain is always free to prance into her abode. Beidou has always wondered what it is that made Ningguang so accepting towards even her most frustrating mannerisms, but has never quite found an answer. Formality loses itself soon after their deal when their relationship takes on a different nature.
“It seems my advisors have predicted wrongly when they insisted I should not cut a deal with you. I believe we’re getting along just fine, don’t you think?” Ningguang mentions over a cup of tea, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Beidou crosses her legs, and her own cup of tea remains untouched in front of her as always.

“I don’t see how you made a good decision,” Beidou shrugs. “You’ve got the whole Crux Fleet’s responsibility on your shoulders too. It’s a shared burden now.”

“Mm, well, I cut the deal with you, captain, not the rest of them. They just happened to be part of the package and, quite frankly, they’re all nice people. I find no trouble in having them under my care,” Ningguang confesses easily, waving the cup away from her lips. Beidou sits back, leaning back with her notorious smirk plastered on her face. She and Ningguang often bicker more than they converse—but the misunderstandings end with more laughter than they do otherwise. They’ve never quite ended on a bad note, ever, and Beidou realises that the Tianquan does, in fact, have a personality beyond what little the rumours ever let in on.

All this—ignoring the blaring fact that Ningguang is incredibly gorgeous. Her beauty does not travel well across old rumours that are exchanged between sea folk, and Beidou has only noticed this when she has started to pay more attention to Ningguang. “You’re dazing off, and your tea’s getting cold,” Ningguang comments, breaking the silence. Beidou shifts in her chair, twisting her hips on the spot to stretch out the aches from sitting too long.

“When do I ever drink your tea?” Beidou jests, chuckling airily.

“Ah, I must say, that hurt my feelings. Do you have no faith in my hospitality?” Ningguang frowns, feigning disappointment. Beidou knows the woman well enough to know it’s only an act and instead waves off the statement with a playful roll of her eyes.

Silence fills the air between them, until Ningguang speaks up again. Beidou realises she isn’t fond of empty atmospheres or broken conversations. “May I ask—Do you remember anything from your childhood? Anyone distinct, perhaps?” she questions, gaze averted to a nearby window. She lowers the cup in her hand and dabs the corners of her mouth, but she doesn’t turn her head still.

“Odd question. You’ve never been interested in anything personal, my lady,” Beidou hums, more amused than she is otherwise. She is also curious too, only slightly, as to where the question propped from in the first place. Beidou knows that she knows too little about her childhood to hold a conversation. Ningguang doesn’t smile like she would to any one of Beidou’s light-hearted comments, and it starts to give the impression that she is searching for something—for what, the captain is yet to find out.

“Okay, well, I used to have a friend when I was younger—many actually, but only one stayed with me till I became a teenager. I don’t know her name or where she came from, except that she was the daughter of a perfume shop’s owner. When I returned to Liyue in my mid-twenties, I found out there was a lady called Ying’er running the store and I thought it was her,” Beidou rambles, waving her hands through the air as she talks. Ningguang, at some point, turns her gaze back to the captain to watch her intently—holding incredible focus, as if she’s scared of missing something. “Unfortunately it wasn’t, so I stopped trying. I accepted that I forgot too much of the details and decided the girl’s just enjoying her life elsewhere.”

“You don’t remember anything about what she looks like?” Ningguang probes.

“No,” Beidou grins, almost proud. “I dream about her sometimes and hey, sometimes, I wish that I knew more about her but what good would it have done? She could be across Teyvat.”

“Or she could be sitting right in front of you.”

Beidou laughs it off, assuming it to be one of Ningguang’s jokes again. The Tianquan does too, perhaps because she realises that it’s best to let go—that it would be too sudden and abrupt for Beidou to know just yet. It is only sufferable because the only difference that lies between them is that one’s mind could not let go, and the other’s heart couldn’t either.

"My captain,

I once knew a girl who had a heart as light as yours. Not many are nimble enough to float upon the rough tides of the ocean. Perhaps you are wondering why I am writing this to you when, in your eyes, you are foreigners to each other—to this, I have no answer. Instead, I’d like to ask you to think more of the girl from the dreams, the childhood friend of yours that you held so tightly in your mind. I wonder, what happened out there that shook the memory out of your heart?

I have a commission for you at Guili. I await your presence once you succeed.”

There is no sign-off at the end of the letter, no context nor background at all. It comes just as the hundreds of nameless letters at the hand of Ganyu, exploring a fact that is never fully uncovered. Beidou furrows her eyebrows at the letter, flipping it over several times while reading it because it feels far too incomplete. Ningguang isn’t a woman to leave matters barely scathed without unravelling them fully. The captain can only wonder why she is treading so cautiously.

It is Kazuha again who insists that Beidou leave the ship for once now that there is no reason for her to overwork herself. With the Qixing’s support, they have been stocked with any necessary supplies and several members of the crew have also been given the option to take on commissions during the day to pursue when they wish to take a break from the docks. Beidou misses the salinity of the ocean breeze less nowadays, having gotten accustomed to the fresh, vaguely scented air of the Jade Chamber. Ganyu happens to be standing at the docks when Beidou has her rare afternoon off, and the captain interrupts her conversation with a stranger by pulling her away.

“I hope that wasn’t anyone important,” Beidou grins at Adeptus, showing no remorse in her tone. Ganyu shakes her head and arranges the papers on her clipboard, almost as if she’d expected this ambush from a long time before. She raises her gaze again once she’s done sorting her paperwork, and this time, she wears a soft smile on her lips.

“No. Do you want to spend the afternoon with me?” she asks gently and Beidou happily agrees, pulling her friend along to buy slime popsicles from Wanmin. The afternoon is unlike any other, even though the two remain only within the vicinity of the city. It ends once again when the sun sets, and they find themselves leaned against the crimson railings that cut the buildings away from the docks. Beidou stands with her back pressed against them, facing away from the scenery with roasted skewers in her hand. Ganyu looks out to the scenery, a little tired from the walking they’d been doing all day—consisting mostly of trying out Xiangling’s new dishes and helping a couple of people around the harbour.

“Ningguang sent me a letter the other day. I don’t understand it—” Beidou says, pulling out the crumpled letter from her pocket. Ganyu takes it in her hand, inspecting the words with careful curiosity whilst flattening out the damp paper. “She’s been acting oddly since the beginning. She’s tolerable nowadays, more than just tolerable, but I’ve never been able to figure it out.”

Ganyu lowers the letter from her gaze with a knowing smile. “Is there a reason why you don’t remember anything from your childhood?”

“What—is there supposed to be a reason? I left Liyue when I was fifteen and it’s been over a decade now. I have so much on my mind most of the day, surely you wouldn’t expect me to remember all parts of my childhood? I know only what my dreams return to me,” Beidou confides. “Still, I don’t understand how this is related to Ningguang.”

“Beidou…” Ganyu laughs breezily, and a gust of wind blows from the ocean. Stray petals cascade through the air, carrying with it the mixed scent of the ocean closeby and perfume. “If you will allow me, there is something bold I have to suggest,” she warns. Beidou’s eyebrows crease at this, turning her head to the Adeptus in question.

“And?” she questions, running her fingers experimentally across the oldened wood of the railings.

“Have you never considered that—by some chance—the reason Lady Ningguang has been pursuing you all along is because you are the person she’s been searching for all these years?” Ganyu turns, pressing her chin against her open palm. Her hair sways with the wind, strands of it blocking her curious violet eyes. Beidou’s lips part in shock and butterflies erupt in her stomach. She gulps, and her mind blanks.

“No,” Beidou frowns. “That’s impossible,” she argues, words failing her.

“I find it far too impossible that the two of you grew up here and both of you have a childhood friend that you’ve been separated from. If you aren’t convinced, I’d have to remind you that Lady Ningguang is the daughter of a poor perfume seller,” Ganyu reminds, adjusting her posture. She stands properly this time, pushing her hair behind her ears. Beidou’s gaze falls to the ground as her heart begins to hammer loudly against her rib cage, almost uncontrollably. Her face flushes in memory and her hand presses against her lips out of instinct. She shakes her head in denial. “You know I have no reason to lie,” Ganyu smiles, pressing a gentle hand against Beidou’s shoulder.

“Oh—” Beidou winces. “This is too much to take in at once,” she grimaces, hand snaking up to her eyes as she can feel herself almost break out into cold sweat. Her head throbs and her feelings blend into painful ambiguity—leaving her confused between happiness and frustration. She tries to make sense of it, the little that she remembers and the entire suggestion altogether. When she raises her gaze to the ocean, in the very back of her mind, she sees doe-like eyes the colour akin to a sweet flower’s and gentle flowing hair. “Ah,” she exclaims at the realisation.

“She recognised you when she saw you at the docks that day—I could tell from the look in her eyes. I had a suspicion that she knew you from before but I heard more about the situation only recently. I wasn’t supposed to know, but it’s only important if you do now.”

“Yeah…” Beidou gasps. “Ganyu, I need to go.”

“You should have a while ago,” the Adeptus laughs, watching as the captain manages a last smile before scrambling away till only her silhouette is left under the darkening sky.

Beidou finds Ningguang standing outside the Jade Chamber, speaking to some of the Millelith soldiers who stand at attention whilst listening carefully to her instructions. Beidou feels bad—just slightly—as she lunges forward and tugs the Tianquan back by her wrist, interrupting her mid-sentence. She breathes loudly enough for the other woman to hear and her face is flushed, almost enough to match the colour of Ningguang’s eyes. “Can we talk? Please,” she begs urgently, left dizzy from her aching heart.

Ningguang glances back at the soldiers who return to their positions, and gives her assurance that she will return again to complete the briefing. “Are you sick?” she questions, averting her gaze back to Beidou. Out of instinct, she reaches out a hand, intending to cup Beidou’s cheek but she retracts it quickly and leaves her care limited to only her words. The captain sucks in a breath and drags Ningguang without a warning, leading her into the Chamber past the threshold and a section of the corridor where the attendants don’t often pass. The front doors remain open, exposing the place to strong winds and an army of fluttering leaves, but neither of them stop to care as Beidou corners Ningguang behind the cover of silken curtains.

“I don’t understand, have I done something to anger you?” Ningguang questions, deeply worried now, hands clutched against her chest. Beidou stands back when she realises they’re too close, that Ningguang’s face is only inches away and the weight of her eyes on Beidou’s is driving her mad. “You must tell me if—” Ningguang continues, perturbed by the silence.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Beidou laughs, voice cracking. The Tianquan averts her gaze and her limbs fall limp to her sides, almost as if she knows exactly what the former is trying to bring to her attention. She flushes, hiding both hands behind her back. “I promise—if you told me, I would have remembered and—”

“Yet the only promise of yours that was ever broken was that you’d never forget me,” Ningguang interjects coldly, a pained smile fragmented on her lips. “I know, and I could tell from the moment that I met you, that you truly forgot me. I didn’t want to hold it against you, and I never did. It was not something I could tell you and hope you would remember magically because really—where is the honesty in offering memories to someone who does not want to hold them close?”

“Ningguang! It isn’t about that at all,” Beidou grimaces. “I spent so much of my life out in the ocean that I had no time to dawdle on old memories. I cared about you a lot, and I still do, and I would have even if our circumstances were different. Did you really think I could believe the girl I grew up with—the one who used to hide in bushes and roamed with me on the streets, is now the Tianquan of Liyue? Tell me, do you think I could have believed that even in a dream?”

And suddenly, it all makes sense. Ningguang remains silent, as though she is at a loss for words. Beidou breathes heavily, barely hanging on to her sanity by a single piece of string. And for a heartbeat, a silence instills between them, till— “It was hard,” Ningguang struggles to say. “It was hard knowing the person I… loved, could not remember me. I promised you I would make Liyue a home worth coming back to. Liyue was never complete without you.”

“Has that changed?” Beidou tilts her head, laughing a little sadly. She snakes a hand forward, curling her fingers around Ningguang’s hands before locking their clammy, trembling hands. Beidou can feel her heart pulsating against her skin where her wrist touches Ningguang’s, and the sound is so loud, that she fears it may echo through the corridors. They are only barely managing the privacy of their space with the figures of attendants passing by them every now and then. Ningguang fixes her gaze on Beidou’s eyes. Beidou’s ones flicker slightly lower.

“What changed?”

“What you felt for me back then.”

“Ah,” the Tianquan sighs, and now it’s almost yearning. “I suppose not,” her smile softens. Beidou presses Ningguang against the wall gently and binds their lips together in a kiss. And long in their distant memories, the ghosts of their younger selves dance under the cover of a dark sky smudged with teal, holding hands and crying promises to the wind.

Promises that will be remembered, and promises that will be kept.