Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Strike me as though you mean to kill me, or I shall swap our roles and ordain that reality myself.”

Chongyun gritted his teeth, his arms screaming and claymore shrieking as he parried jab after strike of Shenhe’s unrelenting spear. His knuckles went bone white around the hilt of his claymore, holding it over his head to block her barrage of jabs. He shifted his stance every few blows, tiring him as his shoes shifted against the grass and as metal screeched against metal.

Lady Shenhe moved swiftly as ever, he thought. Her pearlescent eyes were as sharp as her movements, each thrust of her spear calculated to expose his stance to another vulnerability and another and another and another and another and another and-

A less than dignified sound gasped out of him as he fell on his arse, his claymore thrown to the side and tumbleweeding off the grass, embedding itself into a boulder with an arduous crash that he thought could only fester disappointment. 

“Steady your feet next time.”

Chongyun flinched at her anodyne voice, his spine snapping wire-taut in attention.  Her height and rigid posture over him made him feel like a pebble to a mountain, like an Adeptus to a mortal. Incomparable, and a delusion to even try striving for the summit.

Shenhe stared at him for a few moments. Chongyun gulped at her unreadable gaze before she thrust her spear into the ground,  the cerulean weapon flickering away in a flash of gold.

“You’re still letting me control the flow.” She said, her heels shifting as she crossed her arms. “A claymore is a naturally defensive weapon against an agile opponent, yet it is because of that that you may dictate their movements by adjusting your own and predict a perfect opportunity to retaliate. You have more options in battle than merely staying still and blocking blows like a hedgehog without its quills."

Chongyun felt his throat dry, rancid bile forcing itself down his esophagus. 

He’d heard the same advice worded differently a hundred times before. Why couldn’t he do it? Were his skills too tawdry? Was his practice insufficient? Did he misunderstand something as basic as the fundamentals of wielding a claymore? Was his existence, already bound out of his own control, simply not enough?

Thoughts spiraled and scurried away in a weak nod of his head. It was barely a way to express frustration, but emotional restraint was a familiar song he could sing.

“Yes, Lady Shenhe.” Chongyun said, his voice straining to make itself known: another disappointment to add to the list. He fixed his posture, arms pressed against his lap and arctic hair brushing the grass. “I will strive to improve as best I can. I apologize for my incompetence.”

Were his head not buried in the grass, perhaps he would’ve caught the twitch of his mentor’s lips, paired with a particularly sad gaze.

“...Rest. We shall resume shortly.”

Chongyun heard, briefly followed by the sound of grass rustling as she walked away. He picked himself up, arms sore and hands calloused under his fingerless gloves. With a posture about as steady as a toppling drinking bird, he trudged to his claymore, gripping its handle and yanking it out of its stone confinement, nearly falling on his rear again in the process.

He felt an antipathy towards himself at that moment a growing disdain festered from his own disappointments. He needed to get stronger if he struggled holding his own weapon, what use was an exorcist if he couldn’t? What use was he if he couldn't do the one thing he was born to do? 

Chongyun shook his head with a repugnant grunt. With fingers as rigid as icicles, he dragged his claymore, exhausted, nearly visible breaths leaving him all the while. He let his only reliable friend (weapons are great allies, Lady Shenhe once commented), rest against a rock formation, of which he used as an impromptu seat.

“Steady your breathing,” He heard Shenhe say seconds after he sat, her voice as tranquil yet stern as ever, as though their hours of sparring had been the equivalent of a nap for her. “Deep, slow breathing and exhale through your mouth, wide open. Surely you can do that.”

Chongyun turned his head, catching his snow-haired mentor elegantly meditating by the edge of the cliff, back upright, legs crossed, and palms flat atop her legs. 

The sun’s rays didn’t scorch her. Where Chongyun would say his own skin was cooked and seared under the great ball of fire, a consequence of his Pure Yang Spirit, he would say its rays were gentle on Shenhe, kissing and grazing her skin like ice refracting light in vivid colors, aureate rays and opulent radiance bathing alabaster skin. She was a pristine gem of myth that many in Liyue dreamed of meeting.

It was as though Shenhe was a radiant star, whereas he was cracked porcelain buried in the dirt. It reminded him of why he admired his snow-haired mentor so much.  She had learned how to control her unique constitution long, long ago: above all, that was what he had admired most about her, and what he wished so much to replicate.

Chongyun grit his teeth, despondency bleeding at his mind. He was pathetic, really, for not being able to grip his condition as well as Shenhe did.

He shook his head. He could think of those thoughts later (preferably never, though that wasn’t a luxury Chongyun’s mind seemed to be able to grant to itself.) 

He followed Shenhe’s instructions and took a deep breath. His muscles relaxed as Mt. Tianheng’s breeze filled his lungs, steadying his erratic heartbeat and retreating his adrenaline. As soreness crawled his veins and made itself known to the exorcist, so too did the world around him. 

Chongyun always liked exploring by the mountains (he even saved someone from Qingce Village once, a feat he would forever be proud of), the breeze glided like cold steel over his skin, streaming his neck first and flowing through his loose jacket from there, a welcome sensation for the Pure Yang spirit. 

Sky blue hues, housing catlike slits hued cobalt, glossed over the blue sky and aimlessly spaced clouds. As his breathing steadied, the grass never smelt fresher, and its rustle soothed his soul. It was a lucidity, a nostalgia akin to hearing pages turn in a library, meat sizzle in a restaurant, or a chord strike and bounce off the walls of a makeshift studio.

A moment of solitude, Xingqiu would put it. Hu Tao would’ve worded it as ‘consciousness of death’s inevitability’, a thought that made him snicker - not that he would’ve ever admitted it to the funeral director. She didn’t need any more of an ego than she already had.

A sigh escaped upturned lips, his posture growing languid and sloven on his stone seat. 

His thoughts lingered to his…odd cavalcade of friends. Chongyun considered himself a partial social butterfly, as his sort of commissioned work relied on such connections, and, of course, his other much more extroverted group of friends that always seemed to drag him into their antics or shenanigans for the day. 

He was thankful for them, in truth. Hanging out with them made each day a little more bearable, made his life feel like it was making an impact on someone, no matter how small it was. It was good to be reminded that he existed.

If only they understood his condition the way Shenhe did.

Chongyun shook his head at that thought, biting his inner cheek. That was undermining his friends, wasn’t it? They were already patient enough with him whenever he held back their hangouts because the sun was too bright, or the food wouldn’t let him join, or simply because the event itself was too raucous. 

He felt like more of a burden than a boon to his friends. Tolerating their disregard for his condition occasional prank was the least he could do. He troubled his friends as much as they troubled him, so it was only right he bear that burden. He trusted his friends to never take advantage of him anyways, and they respected him and his decision.

…right?

“Ah!” Chongyun said, reminded of something. “Shen-er, Lady Shenhe!”

Shenhe turned her head. “Hm?”

Chongyun reached for his pack, shuffling through it to find a sealed pair of bowls. “Are you hungry?”

…

“I see…” Shenhe said, sitting beside Chongyun. She stared at the unsealed bowl in her hands, within housing a golden clump of noodles neatly laid inside. “A kind of sealing that keeps food fresh and in their prime state of eating, even through rough movement.” She said,

Chongyun nodded, holding his own bowl of cold noodles. “Traveler and Xiangling taught me how to make them, and since I remembered you mentioning you like noodles, I figured I should bring you some next time.”

Shenhe’s eyes widened. “I…like noodles?” She repeated, “If I recall correctly, I mentioned that only once, many, many moons ago.”

Chongyun blinked, then bashfully scratched his nape. Was that weird of him to remember? Was it rude? “Well…it’s just, you looked happy when you said that.”

“Happy?”

“Yeah, like you were reminiscing about something. I don’t see you like that often, Lady Shenhe, so it’s a pretty fresh memory in my mind.” He admitted, hoping his smile didn’t make him look like an idiot. 

“I see.” His mentor said, lightly nodding at him. “You made this dish yourself?”

“Yes, it’s my own sort of take on the dish.” Chongyun said, “You…already know of my condition, and I like to think these noodles are my specialty. They’re made so you eat them cold instead of hot, and I use the herbs I gather around Liyue’s mountains to season it. I’m, er, not the best cook, but I’ve heard the traveler say they’re pretty good.” 

Shenhe said, “I see.” She said, before turning back to her bowl, picking up the pair of chopsticks from inside. “Well, let’s not waste another moment. We will need energy to continue training, after all.”

“Yes Lady Shenhe.”

Chongyun lifted a portion of his noodles, gingerly clasping it between his chopsticks. He was careful to be as quiet as he could as he slurped his noodles, though couldn’t help the satisfied hum as he partook in his own cooking. It was refreshing to not have to worry about spices, chilis, peppers, or other aspects of food that seemed to fill every dish in Liyue not made by him.

As he swallowed his first clump, he turned to Shenhe to gauge her reaction.

Shenhe was completely still, seemingly completely freezing the moment her noodle-holding chopsticks touched her tongue. Chonyun flinched at that.

“L-Lady Shenhe? Are you…alright?”

Prismatic eyes didn’t flicker or blink, and Chongyun swore Shenhe had even stopped breathing judging by the stillness of her chest. Her face was somehow even blanker than usual, even more unreadable than before. He felt sweat stream down his neck, a sense of shame overcoming his mind. Was it that bad? Did he do something wrong? Was the quality not good enough for her? Gods why did he ever think he could satisfy-

His thoughts were silenced at a sudden, loud slurp. 

Chongyun recoiled as Shenhe suddenly began devouring a portion of his noodles, lifting the clump from its bowl then seemingly tossing all etiquette aside as she plopped in her mouth. The strands that fell she quickly slurped, eager to stuff it into her mouth.

…Slurping loudly was a good sign, right?

Shenhe exhaled into the skies, her bowl significantly emptier than it was a minute ago. Chongyun nearly leapt for the third time at her expression.

She was smiling. Smiling. A horripilation spiked his skin and made his hair stand on end.

“That…” Shenhe turned to Chongyun with the most blessed expression he’s ever seen on his mentor. He had seen Shenhe smiling before, but never like this, like her very expression glowed with a nostalgic joy unlike any other he’s ever seen. “This is an incredible dish, Chongyun. You’re far more skilled in cooking than I thought. Thank you for honoring me with this meal.”

Chongyun flushed at her words, his face exploding in cherry hues and his back nearly falling off his rocky seat. “W-well, thank you for the high praise, Shenhe. I-I don’t think it’s really something deserving of it though. It’s just noodles that I’m good with.”

“Be that as it may, it’s an exquisite taste.” Shenhe continued, stirring the remaining noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks. “It’s…a taste I remember, but…I don’t know where.”

His eyes widened. “You…remember this taste?”

“Yes. It was a long time ago, back when I was still a little girl.” Her smile faded as her eyes numbed to staring at nothing in particular. “I…struggle to remember the exact details of such a time long, long ago. The memories are but a blur to me now, but…”

Chongyun bit his lip. “You don’t…need to tell me those stories again, Lady Shenhe.” He said, scratching his neck. “I know you don’t like reliving those memories, so you don’t have to tell me. I’m just really glad you enjoyed my food.”

“It’s fine Chongyun,” Shenhe said, the edges of her lips pricking upwards. “It’s…a happy memory from my childhood, one that…I believe saved me.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t remember his name, nor do I remember where we met, but I remember this…this familiar cold, chilling taste to my tongue.” She said, her palm caressing the bowl as though it were an old friend. “I…I believe that up until Cloud Retainer made me her disciple, the memory of such kindness from a stranger was one that made me have hope.”

“Hope?” Chongyun said, tilting her head at his mentor. Shenhe turned to him again with that same blinding smile, almost out of character for her.

“Hope for humanity. Hope for kindness in the human soul. Hope that…even one such as myself is worthy of it.” She let out a pleasant sigh. “It pains me to not remember the stranger’s face. I wish to thank him for his simple act of kindness, wherever he may be now.”

Chongyun pressed his lips with a hum.

Nobody truly remembered their complete childhood memories, and he was no different. Most of his childhood he spent reading his family's scrolls, getting dragged by his friends, and learning how to sketch from his clan’s own examples. 

But there was always the trouble he held: being a Pure Yang Spirit. He remembered his mother once telling him that when he was born, their home had to be remodeled and remade, sculpted with methods to properly deal with his abundance of Yang energy, lest the spirits and ghouls they held, the absolute pride of the clan, would wither away, decimating an entire legacy of accomplishments in but a single footstep.

The clan had never learnt how to deal with a Pure Yang Spirit before, and the remodels were frequent: particularly, to his room.

At such times, the child Chongyun wandered to where he felt most comfortable: the mountains. There was plenty of shade, the herbs and flowers weren’t spicy, and the mountain breeze was cold and invigorating to Chongyun.

Then, he remembers a girl. A girl he talked to frequently around the mountains. A girl a bit older than him, he faintly remembered. She was one of his closer friends: Xingqiu, Hu Tao, Xiangling, and Xinyan, at that age, had their own responsibilities and passions to uphold, and there was never truly enough times when their schedules would link up.

The girl from the mountains, however, always seemed available, and he found himself bringing her bowls of noodles straight from his clan’s home whenever his room had to be remodeled. He remembers her laughing and gasping at his cooking, something that he still remembers made him swirl with pride. It was like the first ever praise he’d received.

He didn’t know what became of the girl. His childhood memories weren’t perfect, after all. Hearing a similar story from Shenhe was quite the coincidence.

Of course, there was no way that girl years ago was Shenhe. That girl’s hair was an ash gray, after all. Shenhe’s was an alabaster hue he would never have mistaken for that. Still, he wondered what became of the girl.

“I’m glad you enjoy it, Lady Shenhe. I’m sure you’ll remember their face one day.”

“And I thank you for your kindness as well, Chongyun. Let us partake in your cooking until our energy is sufficient.”

Her smile was radiant, he thought to himself. A sight uncommon yet one he…also, felt a nostalgic feeling bind with. Had he seen that smile before? He wasn’t sure. 

Perhaps Chongyun should’ve felt a bit ashamed of thinking how beautiful Shenhe was, how flawless her skin was and how well-kept her snow-hair was, if it were not for the fact he’d heard Hu Tao, Ganyu, Yunjin, Baizhu, Tea Master Liu, and several others say the same thing, and their thoughts on his mentor would bicker at his mind to confirm the truth.

She was gorgeous, a fact he and the rest of Liyue supported. Her attire pulchritudinously hugged her, intricately designed in feather-like aesthetics, representing her time of her Adeptus Apprenticeship with one of Liyue’s great adepti, Cloud Retainer. Prismatic eyes were unlike any he’s ever seen, as though refracting the world through lenses only Shenhe could witness. Her movements flowed with immaculate grace, dancing with control and elegance Chongyun himself strived to reach, the kind of control where his condition would no longer burden him or others.

He wondered why Shenhe kept herself in such beauty when the only ones that would cross her path were the Adepti, those she saved from peril, the Liyue Qixing, and himself. He wouldn’t dare question his mentor’s choices, but it still sparked a light of curiosity within him, as it contradicted what he knew of his mentor’s occam’s razor mentality.

It still felt odd knowing his mentor was A.) Completely abandoning the clan and the very idea of socializing with them, B.) That he was arbitrarily supporting that decision by not telling his clan about his training sessions with her, and C.) That his mentor was, technically speaking, his aunt.

‘Aunt’ was a Liyue custom, a term used to show respect to older folks,  though in this case…Chongyun had no clue. Was it accurate? Were they related by blood? Was she even an official member of the clan? Was she even old enough to be called an aunt? 

Chongyun and Shenhe were involved in different branch members of the clan, but since the Chong Hua Clan had existed ever since ancient times, those two branch members of the clan had been driven further and further away from each other with the passage of time, so even if they were related, there were potentially hundreds of cousins and relatives between that it would barely count as a family relation. It was even entirely possible Shenhe came from a new family that married into/integrated themselves into the clan.

Chongyun had no answer to these questions, nor did his clan’s library of records. He’d only learned of the “white-haired adeptus” being his aunt from whispers from his clan, though even that he was unsure of. 

Any scrolls or documents that belonged to Shenhe’s branch clan had been completely decimated and burned, just as Shenhe’s childhood home was. The branch clan Shenhe had come from had completely collapsed in of itself, though how it happened, he had no clue. Shenhe seemed to hold no knowledge either.

‘Lady Shenhe’ just seemed to be the easiest way to refer to her for now, regardless of how little he actually knew of his mentor (He didn’t even know her actual age, though he had an inkling that even she didn’t know that. Shenhe didn’t even know their clan still existed, after all. Perhaps Cloud Retainer knew.)

…

The two continued to eat in loud slurps, savoring each intertwining flavor that carressed their tongues. As Shenhe had finished hers swiftly, Chongyun decided to strike a conversation as he ate. He didn’t want to bore Shenhe with just waiting for him.

“Swallow first, at the very least.”

He timidly nodded at that, bashfully scratching his nape again. 

Their conversations wound around Liyue, what happened, where Chongyun had been expeditioning on the traveler’s request, what sort of new creatures he thought up of in his clans’ Field Guide,

(Some of the people he showed his sketches to claimed that the ‘gothic’ and ‘eldritch horror’ style he learned from his clan was far too gruesome, and others he showed simply laughed at the absurdity of his ideas.

He would change neither. His way of sketches with sharp, erratic strokes, paired with dark tones and ‘disturbing’ imagery was his clan’s artstyle, and to change it would be dishonor. The absurdity of his ideas, on the other hand…

…wasn’t something he couldn’t do anything about.)

And, their current topic of discussion: Chongyun’s circle of friends.

“Their treatment of you is abhorrent.” Shenhe seethed, gripping her elbow and tightening the fabric. 

“They’re my friends, Lady Shenhe. They’re just like that. I’ve learned to…live with them for a while now.” Chongyun said, attempting to reassure his mentor. His friends were good people and they cared for him, that was a fact he was absolutely sure of. 

It was just that they were just a touch…oblivious to his circumstances.

“Chongyun, I may not completely understand your condition, but I at least respect your choice in restricting yourself for it.” Shenhe said, “However, from what I can gather, they’re so-called attempt at understanding your condition is labeling your manic self as your quote-unquote, ‘true self’, and invigorating that state for the sake of their own amusement.”

Chongyun flinched at her harsh tone, prismatic eyes flaring like sparks off a grindstone. His catlike eyes flickered to her shaking fist, crudely holding her chopsticks.

“It’s ludicrous and lacking in respect for your circumstances to proclaim and trick you into such things without even acknowledging your choice in your own damn life. ”

Her chopsticks snapped, sending one chopstick’s half flying to her lap, the other to the grass, and the remnants squeezed in her fist.

Shenhe blinked blankly. She stared at the shattered chopsticks for but a moment, before coalescing cerulean particles to her palm, culminating in a grandiloquent glimmer. With a wave of her hand, the separated chopsticks flew into the air, seamlessly mending with its respective half.

Chongyun’s eyes widened. “Wow…”

“Hm?” Shenhe raised an eyebrow at him. “This is merely a simple Adepti Art, among the first I’ve learned. I do not believe it warrants such a reaction.” She said, twirling the chopsticks in her hand against the side of her finger.

“It’s still impressive, Lady Shenhe.”

“Mayhaps, though let us not stray from the point,” Shenhe said, “Xingqiu, that friend of yours in particular is the worst offender. He deliberately feeds you spicy foods to drag that version of yourself out of you, as though he believes the version you currently are isn’t enough to entertain him.”

Chongyun flinched at her austere words. “That’s…just an exaggeration, Lady Shenhe. He’s my friend, he…” He rubbed his arm, working what little nerve he could to stare Shenhe in the eyes. “Traveler says he’s just making inside jokes and things like that. It’s just his method of fun”

“I do not know what an inside joke is,” She admitted, “However, the traveler does not bear the same circumstances as you do, Chongyun. Only you can determine whether or not something bothers you. Nobody else has the right to determine your beliefs, your emotions, or your discomfort, something your circle of friends seem to ignore. Their view of you is only a refraction of their personal beliefs, judging you as though a drunken state you hold neither control nor memory over is equivalent to a mere allergy.”

“That’s…That’s just what friends do, isn’t it?”

“...” Shenhe sighed. “That, I cannot answer in complete faith. Perhaps it is all an ‘inside-joke’, albeit a cruel one from an outsider’s perspective. However, what I can’t excuse is his continuous disrespect to you as an exorcist.”

Chongyun’s eyes widened. “Lady Shenhe? What do you mean by that? On the contrary, Xingqiu has been-”

“Chongyun.”

He grinded to a halt at her stone words. She stared at him, alabaster bangs faintly covering her eyes…glimmering with pity.

Chongyun was fond of the cold, but against Shenhe’s stare, half a day in Dragonspine waters suddenly felt like a cakewalk in comparison.

“You are a smart individual. You’ve read our-...your, clan’s records and scrolls many times over, and you’ve trained in diligence to be the best you can possibly be in your skillset.” Her stare softened. “Surely, you know that the tales he tells you are all lies?”

“No! Xinqiu’s not like that.” Chongyun defended, “It’s…just that my condition gets in the way, that’s all. It’s not Xingqiu’s fault that-”

Shenhe clicked her tongue, silencing him like his tongue laid beneath a guillotine. She set her bowl aside and stood from her stone seat, pacing through the grass as Chongyun idly sat. He wasn’t sure what to do but wait in silence as the breeze slithered Shenhe’s hair, aureate rays kissing her skin.

“...Perhaps if his tales were only once upon a blue moon, I would excuse such trickery. However, your friend has been adamant in his disrespect for your ideals on a near daily basis, it’s ludicrous. Surely he’s aware of your aspirations, yet time and time again he exploits your passion to see you flounder for his amusement.”

“That’s not-”

“If you are so confident in this friend of yours, tell me about their latest tale.” She said, turning to him with a stern stare.

“What-?”

“I shall ascertain that rumor myself.” Shenhe assured, her voice faintly slipping out of its anodyne tone. “If it so happens that a spirit lingers within that area, then I will admit your friend’s absolute honesty. It’s the simplest and most efficient solution to settle this quarrel.”

Chongyun stammered. “But...but it’s just a rumor, even Xingqiu isn’t always sure-”

“Then I shall do it ten times.” Shenhe insisted with a tone harsh enough that Chongyun swore the grass spiked at her voice. “Twenty. Thirty. A hundred if need be. If a single instance even provides the faintest trace of a spirit, then I shall lay down my words and leave it be.”

Chongyun froze, eyes wide and sweat trickling his neck. “Lady Shenhe…please, just...” He drawled, unsure of what he was trying to say.

He saw her expression soften an increment, pearlescent eyes dulling for a moment before she sighed. 

“Are you able to say with absolute certainty, that 100%, even one shall be true?”

...Chongyun’s head drooped, biting his inner cheek and clutching his arm until he felt bone. 

Was she right? Or was he a bad friend for doubting Xingqiu’s claims? Xingqiu was only trying to get him to be a better exorcist, right?

But he knew better, didn’t he? 

He wasn’t a complete idiot. He read hundreds of his clans books and scrolls and teachings and guides and ceremonial mantras thousands of times over and over and over, because if he couldn’t be a good enough exorcist to see a spirit the least he could’ve done was study his own clan’s teaching, even if he never would’ve been able to put them into practice. 

Mitigating his existence of disappointment was all he could try doing.

And then Xingqiu arrived, spouting tale after tale of a spirit here or there, in a cave with an unusually long and poetic name, in a valley filled with nothing but ores and herbs, or even just a nondescript building in Liyue.  How many times had it happened? He didn’t know: what he did know, however, was how many times he succeeded; none.

He wasn’t a complete idiot. There was always an inkling, a tiny kindle, a minute weed in the back of his mind that questioned,

“Is he lying to me?”

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me through an entire lifetime, and perhaps the fool would finally notice.

Surely not, right? Surely Xingqiu respected his passion for exorcisms as much as Chongyun respected his passion for writing, right? 

Surely…he was worth taking seriously? 

Xingqiu-no, all his friends knew about his dream, his passion of fulfilling his clan’s legacy, of being able to proudly call himself an exorcist, of being able to protect Liyue through the ways he knew how. They knew his desperation to live up to his clan's expectations, his struggle to achieve what seemed impossible given the circumstances of his birth, and respected him for it, right?

“Lady Shenhe, I believe that’s enough.” Chongyun said, an emotion he wasn’t sure was frustration, anger, or sadness slipping in his tone. “My friends respect me and my decisions, and Xingqiu is trying his best to help me in my training as much as you are.”

Shenhe was unimpressed. “Then let me discern it with his latest tale. That is all I ask, and I shall drop the topic, never to be spoken of again.”

“Lady Shenhe, I respectfully request for you to please not involve yourself with my friend’s…antics.”

“I’m looking out for you, and the conclusions I’ve drawn are enough to warrant my concern.”

“Xingqiu’s a good friend, he respects me as an exorcist and a friend, not just someone he…toys with.”

“...With how stubborn you are,” Shenhe said, shutting her eyes. “Let’s assume your last statement is true. Then what of the funeral director, the cook, the raucous musician, and the opera artist?”

Chongyun recoiled. “Hu Tao, Xiangling, Xinyan, Yunjin?”

“They are all close friends of yours, if the word that passes through both your mouth and Liyue’s streets is to be believed.” She said, tapping a methodical finger to her chin. “If my memory does not fail, Xiangling is the one to assist Xingqiu in such discomfort causing spices to you, Xinyan is one in particular that takes advantage of your Pure Yang State for her own uses, and Hu Tao seemingly revels in the chaos just as much as the rest.”

“That’s…that’s just me losing it and having fun with them, that’s...that’s all.”

Chongyun tried to ignore how weak his answer was.

“And that version of yourself, that manic self released into the world, those precious hours of living you held no control of without memories to match, was provided with your approval? Your consent?”

“I…”

Shenhe sighed. 

“It is as your friend, Hu Tao, is so fond of saying, I believe: “Live in life, die in death.” Mortals do not have eternity in this world. Each second we spend and use is precious, yet your friends seem to be content with making you lose hours of yours on a constant basis. How hypocritical.”

…

“That…That’s a quote you know only through my stories, Lady Shenhe.” Chongyun said, grasping at his stone seat with shaky fingers.

Shenhe hummed. “Indeed it was. What is your point?”

“I…believe I know my friends better.”

He ignored how weak his words sounded, and he ignored the self-belittlement he felt (To his inability to counter his mentor’s words, to his inability to defend his friends, and to his ludicrous indecisiveness for being unable to do either.)

“All…all of that is just an outsider’s perspective. I...know them better.”

Chongyun panted, breaths heaving out as though he had trekked up and down the mountain hundred times over: that would have been a preferable fate than confronting the possibility Shenhe had been suggesting. He wasn’t worth the effort.

“Ah, heaving already my liege? But the fun has only begun-“

His knuckles dug into his head, straining arctic hair like it was a mound of dirt. He pulled, welcoming the pain of heaved hairs if it meant if it gave his mind a distraction. How many times has his soul burned against the inside of his skin? How familiar was the asinine heat he felt scorching his blood? How many times had his friends incited it?

“It’s basically just an allergy, right?”

How intimate was he with this discomfort: a lava pit searing his esophagus, a hot anvil crushing his skull, horripilation strangling his skin in blistering agony. 

“Well…at least you won’t remember it!”

He would’ve killed to remember it: his drunken bouts, his undignified state, every embarrassing thing he's ever done unaware. It would’ve at least given him closure of who he was under its influence, of who he was if his diligence had not kept him in check. 

His psyche began to slip, his mind beginning to fog as his emotions - frustration, anger, bitterness, denial - overwhelmed him, and-

He felt a cold, gentle softness against his head. From the corner of his vision, he saw his clan’s trademark - the symbol implanted upon their talismans - linger idly, rising past his vision and providing him with a sudden sense of comfort.

“Breath. Slowly. Lean against my hand if need-“

The rest of her words were a blur as he went limp on the stone seat, using his mentor’s palm to keep himself from falling over. 

When he saw his mentor offer him a popsicle - a qingxin infused frozen treat that helped mitigate his condition - he chomped the treat in a single bite, straight from her hand.

Chongyun hated being dependent like this, to rely on another to resolve his own folly, but he was too weak to argue with himself. His mind worked the strength to pull her hand closer to him, his volcanic breaths grazing the fabric around her arm. Shenhe’s hand felt cold, nice, and welcoming, like a hug after returning home. 

Time passed - perhaps birds chirped, clouds flew, and Shenhe sighed, he didn’t remember - and soon, Chongyun found him grasping back control of his mind. He was reluctant to stop leaning against his mentor (he doesn’t remember when she got closer, nor when she began treading her hand through his hair), but eventually did so, reclining back into the stone seat.

“Another Adeptus Art, if you were wondering. Calms the soul and attempts to balance our Yin-Yang Energies together.” He heard, snapping his neck up to face Shenhe’s expression. “Though…it doesn’t work on the self.” 

There was something on his mentor’s face: a flash of sympathy, followed by a sense of regret in her prismatic eyes.

His first instinct upon seeing Shenhe’s face was to apologize. 

She surprised him by doing so first.

“My words may have tread a line too far. However, your lack of a response…still concerns me, Chongyun.”

She sighed, almost reluctantly. “Still, you are indeed correct. I cannot hold particular judgement if I am not personally affiliated with them as you are. I cannot speak as judge, jury, and executioner under such shaky grounds.”

Shenhe took a step back (Chongyun resisted the urge to reach for her as she left) and bowed, her palms pressed against each other.

“I apologize for the discomfort I caused you, I…did not realize what my implications would do, and for that, I’m sincerely sorry.”

…

“La…Shenhe, can I…hold your hand again?” 

Chongyun wasn’t sure what part of him was insane enough to ask such a thing, nor what part of him was so shameless as to refer to his mentor without the honorific(?), but he was too exhausted to amend either.

Shenhe’s eyes widened. She stood for a moment, before pacing back, cautiously sitting beside him once more. She leisurely extended her arm. Chongyun stared at it, icy slits glossing over towards her mentor, before forgoing the arm entirely and instead hugging Shenhe, embracing his mentor with shaky arms.

“Sorry…” He mumbled into her side. “I…I just really need this, right now. I won’t…ask it again. Ever.” He said weakly,

He couldn’t see Shenhe’s expression, only how tense she was as his arms wrapped around her. Perhaps it was the after effects of Pure Yang, but he longed for contact. He wanted to be reassured, he wanted his existence acknowledged, he wanted justification for-

His thoughts froze as he felt a hand gently wrap around his back.

There was silence for a while, the only shift being the rise and fall of their chests, until Shenhe spoke again, her free hand threading his hair once more.

“I am unfamiliar with social practices.” She began, as blunt and honest as Shenhe should be. “I’ve lived only alongside Cloud Retainer in the mountains for my life, and what remains are cloudy memories I can’t rely on nor ascertain their meaning.”

Chongyun felt a sigh graze his hair.

“As I said, nobody but yourself can determine your beliefs, and I apologize for my earlier hypocrisy. Take my words as you believe, and I shall trust your judgement."

Trust. When was the last time someone had trusted his judgement on himself?

…

He didn’t know how long it was before he let go, and his mentor followed suit.

Chongyun turned towards Shenhe. “I apologize for…all of that, Shenhe.”

She shook her head. “None of it was in your control, and I can't fault you for a refracted mind you never asked for.” She stared towards the sky. “Cloud Retainer taught me the circumstances of birth are trivial, and it is what we do with the gift of life that determines our path.”

He hummed, wondering if he heard that line in a novel somewhere. “I…thank you for letting yourself be honest with me. While…what you say is something I believe isn’t the full story, I…cannot completely disagree with a few of your points. But I still believe they are all great friends, and for that, I am grateful to them.”

He heard her hum back. “Perhaps, though, if you would allow me to speak, letting yourself gather your thoughts alone is also an adroit use of time, I believe. One’s own company is sometimes all one requires.”

Chongyun rolled his eyes. “Yes, because having the literal embodiment of your spirit is company people would consider sane, I’m sure.”

He heard her chuckle. She turned towards him with a minute smile. “That’s sarcasm, is it not?” She said, her head gently tilted. “You learned that from your friends?”

He blinked. “I…yes, I guess so.”

She nodded. “Though my words may never find themselves through their ears, I will be forever grateful to them for teaching you that. For teaching you these sorts of things, even if they didn’t intend to. It’s…human. It’s growth. Something impossible to realize alone. Your friends have my gratitude for that, and I have Cloud Retainer as well as Liyue’s populace to bestow my gratitude upon as well.”

“Thank you, Lady Shenhe.”

Shenhe raised an index. “But if I see that bookworm with that travesty of a haircut force feed you a chili one more time, I shall shove a carrot up his ass.”

Chongyun laughed.

…

Shenhe pressed her lips.

“Your friends are a rather taxing affair, aren’t they?” She said, “Vengeance is a meandering thing. However...I am interested to hear your thoughts.”

“Well...I know Xingqiu keeps the complete series of “ I Can’t Believe My Snezhnayan Boss Fell for the Girl that Kicks His Balls Every Week” , premium edition too, with colored sketches, all underneath his bed.”

“Now this I have to hear.”