Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If you’ve ever been to Liyue, the city has its own magic in the morning hours. It’s cast in a golden glow, with shops and citizens alike opening their doors to begin the day with the rising sun. There was business to be done, first and foremost, which sent the Harbor into a bustle before any visitor could settle in for breakfast.

But, that breakfast was worth arriving early for. 

Venti recalls so vividly what a Liyue breakfast offered. The pillowing puff of edible cloud – a steamed bun calling his damn name. It was unusual for a wandering vagabond like him to find himself here, past the invisible borders of Mondstadt and Liyue. There was no wind that brought him here, but an old calling to go bug a friend. 

That was later on the schedule, however. Venti's gotten word that Zhongli was quite a busy man; far be it for him to bug the man at work.

It had been far too long since he tasted the only thing worth waking up early for, and he believes wholeheartedly that he’ll have a discount for providing ample entertainment along the way.

“Sir – good sir! My plate is empty, but not my stomach. One more of your freshest buns, please!”

Three steamed buns in, he has room for one more. To enjoy and savor the accumulation of conversations on either side of him. One man’s ranting about the increased pricing of a fisherman, another woman is discussing which wine to choose for a birthday celebration tonight… Venti can’t help the smile on his face knowing the people in their lands lived similarly enough. 

To him, it means Rex Lapis did a fine job guiding his people. Now, the people of Liyue guide Zhongli.

— 

Across the Harbor, the consultant was running late. For once it seemed the day destined him to run into a series of unfortunate events. His neighbor had locked himself out of her home, needing assistance in breaking into the small, humble apartment across from Zhongli’s. All that was required was a geo-forged key that he had made in secret, of him acting as if he simply knew how to pick a lock. The woman was thankful, offering to make him tea when he returned from work in the evening… but politely, Zhongli declined. 

It’s a habit during this part of the week for things to be slow, for the consultations at the parlor to be far and few between. Who knew that people tended to pass away near the end of the week? Hu Tao would rave about that fact, go on about what activities were deadliest and a common source of such passing. 

He normally doesn’t cross paths with anyone so early. He’s a man of routine, of ritual – that much applies towards getting to work as well. 

The lingering thought of being ‘off’ could throw even his mind through a loop. He’s rushed in a way that makes him feel truly mortal, bothered by how time feels so… limited today. Was it an omen? Was it him adjusting, finally, to a day-to-day fitting for any normal resident of Liyue Harbor? 

Such questions are gone shortly after when he brushes through a small crowd gathering outside of one of the small carts in the Harbor – a sound of a lyre stopping Zhongli dead in his tracks. 

It’s beautiful, soothing and not a single string was plucked without purpose. It was a skilled player, strumming melodies of a song he hasn’t heard in centuries … one lost to the erosion of time. 

“Barbatos.”

Zhongli’s whisper reaches no one, but he moves through the crowd politely, a tap or two to ensure he gets to the front – where his eyes lay sight of a bard with a steamed bun clinging to his lips and his fingers strumming away at the old lullaby he remembers so many people humming to their children before bed. 

Venti’s a sentimental sap, so this particular song was the first that came to mind. It was a gift from Mondstadt’s finest bard… never turning down the thought of a performance worthy of applause. Even if, y’know, it’s at a food stall of all places. It takes every bit of willpower available to not stop and munch, finishing the last few notes before the clapping of palms circles around his ears. 

Zhongli doesn’t applaud with the others. He waits until Venti’s eyes meet his – when that bun drops from his mouth with a jolt of surprise. Zhongli, fortunately enough, hasn’t lost his speed in his old age – don’t let Hu Tao’s slander fool you – and with a careful kneel, Zhongli saves the day.

Resting in the palm of his glove, the steamed bun didn’t even fall apart. It was a pitiful proposal, an offering of food in exchange for Venti’s attention. To which the bard yelps out – 

“You’re early!”

“I’m technically late and will continue to be at this rate.”

Venti didn’t plan on crossing paths with an old friend so soon and Zhongli… wasn’t expecting the sight at all. Venti takes a bite as thoughtfully as he would an apple as Zhongli stands and dusts off his slacks.

“What are you doing here, Bar– Venti?”

A few more bites and the bard answers as a cheek remains puffed out with food.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Unlikely. The Mondstadt wind –”

“Doesn’t recognize borders. It travels where it wants to. And it just so happened that it wanted to travel to Liyue!”

Zhongli turns his nose up a little at Venti’s colorful way of explaining his motive. Of course, the former archon’s mind quickly considers the worst: of their mutual traveling friend, of the unrest he’s heard of boiling to a head in Inazuma… Venti doesn’t just show up without reason and Zhongli prefers the terms of everything laid out cleanly.

“To sample fine dining, even before happy hour, it seems.”

Venti sticks his tongue out almost instinctively, defensive over the insinuation that he had strewn up something other than purely noble intentions.

“I’ll have you – mmf,” he takes a bite to finish off the bun, “ – know, I took time out of my schedule for the trip. I woke up early to ensure my business was taken care of prior to finding you.”

Zhongli perks a brow, his arms crossing while time seems to just… slip away from him. He’s running later, it’s true. 

“Yet our paths cross.”

“So they do. It was unbeknownst to me that it’d be a siren’s call, ehehe.”

Venti pulls a few handfuls of Mora out to place onto the cart – a bit shy but the chef doesn’t quite count yet while the two conversed.

“Far from it. It was merely a bit of a shock to hear. That song… was one that has been gone from the world for centuries. Some say it was created so the skilled musicians had a challenge… or that they could heal the wounds of heart and mind if done so without fault.”

“Did I heal you, then?”

That one was an interesting question…

“Of what would you heal me of, Venti?”

“I don’t know. I just thought the song was nice. Sad, in its own way, but it meant something to Liyue. It was played often when I first visited. I remember that much.”

He remembers? That was a surprise. The wayward archon had replaced his blood with wine by that point, Osmanthus a flavor that Venti tried to get accustomed to but never quite could.

“You revived it for quite a few people, whom I doubt will ever know of the significance of it. To them, it remains merely a song played by a skilled bard.”

“Awwww, you think I’m skilled.”

“I’m being generous to a guest of the Harbor.”

Zhongli forgot how tiring it was speaking to the sunny anemo archon. Even if their paths do not cross as often as old friends should… it reminds him that conversations like this are not too common. Not since old friends were put to rest and responsibilities kept them tugged further apart. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but you’re 150 Mora shy, friend.”

To which Venti glances at the chef, then to Zhongli – red creeping upon his face.

“A-aha, did you not hear that beautiful song?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t worth 150 Mora,” snaps the chef.

That was a dagger, one that Venti feels wedged deep inside of his chest. Zhongli may be dense in some cases, but he isn’t a fool when it comes to transactions. Venti pats at his shorts, silently hoping he had earned more on his trip over but… 

“150 Mora, here.”

Zhongli provides a miracle – actually having a few Mora available on his person and to pay for his old friend’s meal. The chef gives a respectful nod and accepts the payment. 

“I’m not in your debt, you know.”

The sharp, immediate rebuttal tempts Zhongli’s lips into a sliver of a smile. A dragon smiling was a rare sight, so he refrains. It seems Venti’s song wasn’t worth that , either.

“If I wanted you to be, I would have clearly outlined the terms. I don’t create agreements without explicit approval of the parties involved.”

“It was a joke, friend. You’ve learned to do that since we last met, haven’t you?”

He’s not quite sure. His boss certainly makes enough jokes for the both of them. A thoughtful hum slips past Zhongli’s lips. 

“Things have changed. You may be surprised,” light and teasing, Zhongli looks towards the direction of the funeral parlor, “I have a job for one, waiting for me to arrive. If you’ve finished crooning for the morning, you may join me on my walk. I’ll be preoccupied for the remainder of the day.”

Venti always expected him to be. Word had gotten around easily of the stuffy consultant aligned to the long-running funeral parlor, who was polite but so very guarded. It’d be nice to demand his attention for making the long trek, but Venti has an entire city to explore. 

The offer hangs in the air and Venti hops off his stool with a nod.

“Then, walk and talk. Like old times.”

Venti being in Liyue was like old times in itself, but the tour of the city… It was his favorite part. Zhongli gives a curt nod and motions for him to follow – which Venti does with a bounce in his step. The bard was well fed, but hungry for the company of an old friend. 

The sounds of the city pad the silence. Zhongli doesn’t… quite know what to say to Venti. He’s lost count of the years, but not the murmurs of a transient musician. It was good to know his old friend had awoken, even if he continues the same antics that make his skin crawl at times. Fortunately, Venti seemingly hasn’t had a drink yet. The day could still fall apart.

“So your day will consist of pattering around coffins?”

“Not something so crass. Making arrangements, working with families who wish to honor their loved ones… It’s a delicate craft with traditions that are my responsibility to continue. Coffins are simply part of it.”

Venti isn’t well-versed in what happens after death. He’s seen the act of it, saying goodbyes to the free citizens on far too many occasions but… admittedly, he shies away from the tradition. Of funerals or cremations, they leave Venti to paint a picture of what that entails. 

“Do you tire of the topic?”

“No. It’s a way of life. Someone must take up the task as much as a wetnurse brings life into the world. I’m simply on the other side of the cycle.”

Venti can’t help but feel a bit of sorrow on the subject. It’s inevitable, yes, and so very unfair. The life Mondstadt fought for – the freedoms of the land – included death as well. It didn’t mean he’d so readily welcome such a role… perhaps Venti was far too focused on living on in the honor of a fallen friend… 

The morning breeze catches Venti’s braids as he tilts his head thoughtfully towards the taller man.

“Mmm. Then tonight, go back to the other side. The living side. I’ll be in Liyue for a few days and you’d best make good use of it. The Mondstadt wind rarely crosses the border, you know!”

“I know.”

A bit sad, Zhongli was not oblivious to how long it had truly been. There’s buildings that have been built from solid foundations, buildings that have deteriorated and the Harbor was different in every sense of the word. It fills Zhongli’s heart with comfort to know that it will continue on, far past when his steps lead him through the walkways.

“Dare I ask what you’ll be entertaining yourself with, bard? The city may not be ready for you to be unleashed upon it,” the stone is capable of a joke, it’s true.

Venti swipes at the bottom of his nose, stifling a laugh. He can’t give him too much power.

“The docks, mostly. Watch the ships roll in and entertain the children. They may not pay me for my songs, but their parents could!”

It sounded so simple falling from his lips… to wander and do what fills the heart with joy. It could never be simple for someone who has a role to play, even if it was far less stressful than that of an archon. 

The steps bring them closer to the parlor, to where he can already hear Hu Tao’s cackle. It makes Zhongli’s eyebrows twitch. That girl would be the death of him before any enemy, he’s sure of it. 

“I hope you’re able to spread that out throughout the day, then. My meetings will keep me through sundown,” no, they won’t. Zhongli prepares as such, though. This day was light but the temptation to leave early would give him ammo for Hu Tao… he feels it in his tired, old bones.

“Of course! If not, I’ll find a tree suitable to take a nap in.”

“Hopefully one that doesn’t last centuries –”

“Oh come on, you can’t use that against me. At least I didn’t have myself killed in the most dramatic fashion ever.”

That strikes a pointed glance from Zhongli.

“Barbatos.”

He had to have understood why he did this. The complexities of being an archon wasn’t to simply rule, but it was to balance guidance and rule. If Rex Lapis was to let his people flourish… it was a necessity. It was a need. 

“Save it for dinner.”

Dinner? Zhongli stops at the front door, looking at the bard with a confused narrow of his eyes. The consultant's lips part, but Venti wags his finger to silence him.

“Of course. If we’re to catch up… dinner, stories, wine. It all goes hand in hand. Or has it truly been so long that you’ve had a guest that your manners of hospitality fall a bit short?”

Gods, has it? Zhongli’s day was planned for him: work, dinner, drinking, revisiting old tales with an old friend. From running late in the morning to losing control of the day… there’s discomfort in his heart, but not as much as he would have thought.

It feels a bit… interesting. Was the geo excited at the thought of a vagabond usurping his time? 

“Never. Of that you can be certain of. Entertain yourself in the Harbor, but don’t cause problems. I’ll speak to you tonight.”

They don’t need to wax on, Venti is here in Liyue and made it clear he won’t be leaving too soon. It’ll give Zhongli the time to prepare for dinner properly. He gives a respectful nod and Venti an energetic wave. 

Before long, they go their separate ways with the promise of one thing: tonight.

Chapter Text

It was the slowest eight hours of Zhongli’s life. 

The pull to excuse himself early to ensure Venti hadn’t landed on the bad side of the Millelith with his carefree antics was strong. Hu Tao had booked Zhongli fairly solid throughout the day. He enjoyed a small lunch before he was brought into the main foyer of the parlor to pick the best gems for one of their more… lavish funeral arrangements. 

Everyone in the building revered Zhongli’s opinion – for those amber eyes were made to detect the imperfections of a process. Be it planning, traditions, or gem scouring, they trusted Zhongli’s judgment. 

Shortly after, he took a small walk to the front of the parlor, as if wanting to take advantage of his viewpoint to see if he could spot the drunkard causing trouble. The last thing he needed was for more chaos in one day.

It nearly caused him to cancel his final consultation, but the Feng family were prompt and humble for their appointment. He’d be a cruel man to ignore their planning. 

He completed his shift without complaint, with no questions asked upon the way he seemed a bit less prepared. Zhongli had done well to ensure that his reputation was spotless – he shall not stain it today.

— — — 

It was the fastest eight hours of Venti’s life.

Liyue Harbor provided so many opportunities to busy himself throughout the day.

Of course he was tempted to browse the wares of the shops lining the streets – the gems and stones catching the twinkle of his eyes. However, Venti wasn’t a rock kind of guy, but he could at least appreciate their luster. 

The kite seller allowed Venti to give a test run of their finest kite. He laughed hard that afternoon, watching it catch the sky and soar. A Rex Lapis kite – fearsome maw turned into a giant hole to catch the wind. The tail of a dragon whipped around gracefully with each tug. Oh… he wondered if Zhongli hated seeing such displays, but strangely enough, Venti felt like he was honoring the fallen archon by performing such a silly activity.

Afterwards, he had been able to charm a quick lunch from a fruit vendor – daring to say the sunsettias looked a bit bruised and would not sell. It was the usual lunch, one that satisfies him until the sun comes down. 

Before he could plan, his time was used by singing at the pier. The ease of ships unloading fresh catches go well into the evening – all a mighty sight to savor and enjoy. Venti’s done well for himself. Singing of heroes from Mondstadt, fearsome fox-kin from Inazuma, and old tales of Rex Lapis that were from an outsider perspective. 

The sun falls so marvelously over the water, catching the amber glow of the lanterns and it reminds him of Zhongli right then and there. It brings him back to the time of day, wondering pitifully if he had been on the lower list of that old curmudgeon’s dumb priorities. 

Him? A low priority? Mondstadt’s best bard was in town – Zhongli better show preference!

Night captures the land, casting a blanket of darkness across the rolling hills north of the Harbor. He has no use in serenading the passersby when he felt he made enough to feed him for the remaining few days. Venti abandons his lyre in favor of finding himself at the end of the dock, letting his feet dangle off the edge in mere admiration. The Harbor truly was something to behold. It reminds him of things he hasn’t thought of in such a long time.

Of something other than Mondstadt. 

Of old friends that brought joy instead of grief.

“I assumed you would have been slouched in a chair with your dignity slipping between your fingers by now. Color me surprised.”

That voice. 

Zhongli.

— — — 

A reunion in the glow of lanterns was not one to scoff at. Venti turns and is up to his feet in moments – scrambling as if he had been caught doing something wrong. He isn’t! He is enjoying Liyue’s beauty. Sober, too!

Zhongli stands before him a few feet away, arms crossed and his gaze as controlled as always. It had been longer than he wanted, but the bard was surprisingly difficult to pin down. He tried the local spots first: restaurants, the pop-up opera performances, the marketplace, but the docks were his last thought. 

Just as the day started, it would end with Zhongli running late.

“Is that any way to talk to your guest?”

“ My guest? I don’t recall sending an invitation.”

Even now, they battle with words as much as their temperaments. Venti dusts his hands free and virtually skips towards Zhongli to close the distance – there was a confidence in the young-looking bard that puts even the silenced beast inside of him to shame. 

“In fact, you invited yourself here and to dinner,” Zhongli’s tongue is sharp in a way only Venti has seen. Challenging without too much bite or callousness behind it.

“So? What plans did you have beyond playing with the dead? I’m here, so the least you can do is seem a tiny bit happy to see an old friend.”

He had him there. Zhongli sighs; the misfortune of running late has made him feel ‘off’ as well. He bends, almost as always, when it comes to the simplicity that Venti offers.

“I apologize. That is not how anyone in Liyue should treat a visitor. Your… arrival was unannounced, as it always is , but is not unwelcomed. Today seems to have gone unusually off routine.”

Venti suddenly smacks at the side of Zhongli’s arms, enough to shoot his gaze down and nearly spit from the impact.

“You’re fine ! Don’t get all business-y. This isn’t overtime. Consider it a treat. You could try to be a little excited.”

Those damn words have a way of calming a storm while warming the heart as well. Perhaps that’s why his people so valiantly heed to his rule still? To honor freedom above all else? Zhongli thinks it's careless… but the bard has a point. His work had been completed, and for once, he wasn’t slinking alone to dinner or finding the silence of his apartment a comfort in itself. 

Liyue is still alive for such an hour, people passing them by and couples on their way to the market for a date. Zhongli has seen so many of them through the years… but never has he lived in Liyue in the same manner as them. Unashamed. 

“I can’t feed your ego. Come. Allow me to show you what we offer here. Better than any dreary tavern you may find yourself drawn to.”

A tavern sounds like a godsend, but Venti knows the drink in Liyue could rival that of Mondstadt’s. A nice wine paired with a delicious dinner? Sign him up! Zhongli was already off towards the market, leaving Venti to rush and stumble to his side.

“H-Hey! I’ve made some great friends and Mora at those dreary taverns! Sure, some people like to brood and drink their sorrows away… but is there anything more calming than a song from a bard?” 

“Many things, but I’ll allow you your ego for now.”

Zhongli has an idea of where to take Venti. A place not too expensive, not too simple. The reason why? It was far more secluded this time of evening, with many people wanting the restaurants that had a view of the dock and boats rolling in. Liuli Pavilion would provide some much-deserved privacy. 

“I have missed this. Traveling. Seeing people. Experiencing new sights.”

“Where have you traveled to since you awoke?”

Venti has to think about that, a hum past his lips. Counting on his fingers, he responds concisely.

“Dragonspine, Old Mondstadt and Liyue Harbor. Can you believe my schedule has been packed completely full?”

That seems unlikely. Zhongli knows that he kept his schedule tight, but the Anemo archon? Such a routine feels like a betrayal to his ideals. To his freedom. He doesn’t argue. All he does is nod, appreciating the breeze of people around them. They blend in, not as two Archons descending as an angel of freedom or dragon of prosperity, but a tall, well-dressed man and a smaller young man with a bounce to his step. It allowed Venti to appreciate seeing Zhongli loosen up a bit. 

“Yet you find time for an old friend.”

“Why else would I venture here? I had to see what this new life of yours was all about, Zhongli.”

Morax almost slips past his lips – it comes too easily for him. Like a muscle reflex.

“You’re trying to flatter me. Why?” Zhongli truly didn’t understand.

“I am not! It would be the same way if you found yourself in Mondstadt. You’d want to see me. Wouldn’t you?”

The brat backs him into a corner. Again . Like a dragon, there’s a soft, warm burst of air huffing out of Zhongli’s nostrils. His gaze averts directly in front of them towards their restaurant of choice. 

“It would be rude to visit without seeking you out.”

“Exactly. Which means the plans would always revolve around m–”

“You.”

Zhongli stops him, a hand in front of his walk. Venti stops in his tracks. 

“So, if you intend to stay tomorrow and the days following, will you be bothering me in the morning on my way to work?”

Venti scrunches his nose a bit.

“You haven’t taken off work?! You have guests in town!”

“ Unexpected guests. I had no knowledge of your arrival, which means my meetings will continue on as scheduled. Their priorities go above my own. If you cared for me to prepare, you should have sent word.”

Plus, Hu Tao would endlessly badger him about Venti. He knows it. Feels it in his tired bones. Venti gives him a narrowed gaze as they finally continue walking and arrive at the restaurant. A friendly attendant, a girl no older than Hu Tao (but far more mature), gives an acknowledging nod.

“Hello, good sirs! Mr. Zhongli, would you care for your usual table? We can set it for two this time.”

Zhongli nods, “That would do well. May we also please know what wines you’ve imported? Mondstadt, in particular.” 

“Of course! Follow me and I’ll prepare a list for you.”

The hostess chats about the special – a particular Slow-Cooked Bamboo Shoot Soup that Zhongli was so fond of. Perhaps that’s why he chose this place of all days. More affordable. 

They’re seated off in a rather small table off against the wall. It could barely seat one person, let alone two… but the staff ensured there were two chairs and two plates prepared. 

Zhongli offers an arm to the chair, Venti taking his seat with no delay. It was… different being in a restaurant this beautiful. Venti’s eyes look around, noticing the ornate decor and how stuffy it feels. He feels out of place, but he bites it down with a smile. Zhongli finally sits once the wines are brought out in a rush.

Two wines to choose from: Dandelion and a dry apple infusion from Dawn Winery.

“Take your pick, bard. You are my guest, after all,” since Venti keeps insisting…

Venti scrunches his nose up, giving a glance to Zhongli. 

“Maybe I wanted to sample something from Liyue? I can have all of these any day I choose. Miss! Oh, miss! Can you return these? I wish for… um.. what was it – damn it – Ozin –”

“Osmanthus. Osmanthus wine for two, please. —Nevermind. Simply bring the bottle.”

Knowing Venti, it’ll be downed before he can blink. 

For now, they were left alone. Zhongli shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to push away how different it feels to come here with a guest. …One as colorful as Venti surely did stand out. 

“Did you have any plans once you arrived?” 

Venti hums for a second.

“Truthfully? Plans can be a little overrated. The only thing I knew for sure was meeting up with you,” the bard was practically beaming.

That brings an uncertain glance upon Zhongli’s face. The forwardness feels like a ploy.

“You came all this way for –”

Venti’s finger raises with a ceremonious smirk plastered upon his face. He completes the sentence. 

“Yup. You.”

Well, that wasn’t dramatic or anything. Venti leans forward, elbows so rudely on the table. Zhongli’s skin is crawling because of his lack of manners. Barbatos can be quite the fiend when he wants to be.

“You are a foundation, Zhongli. Retirement or not. Just as you have helped build the people of Liyue up, you still stand here – even if, y’know… Rex Lapis is no longer with us. All of my plans would have centered around that foundation too. To see an old friend, share a drink, and begin a healthy retirement!”

“...Hm. Don’t you have to work first to earn such a retirement?”

Sorry, that one was way too easy. Venti’s lips curl up in offense.

“Being a bard is exhausting! My Mora is gone before it even settles in my pocket and the days are never the same. An early retirement is well-earned.”

“Such a life you live, Venti. I wonder if I’ll ever understand why you choose that over something practical. You could teach the arts, commission work, and yet… it sounds as if you started your retirement the moment you woke up.”

Venti waves Zhongli off dismissively.

“Hardly. I worked harder in recent times than I had – gosh, before I can remember!” 

Zhongli doubts him, but he doesn’t have time to interject. The waitress returns promptly, pouring the Osmanthus with a smile for both of them. Promptly, she sets the bottle with a nod. 

“I’ll allow you a moment to prepare your –”

“We’re ready,” Venti interjects immediately. Zhongli snaps a gaze in confusion, “Two Slow-Cooked Bamboo Shoot Soups and your Almond Tofu, please.”

The waitress nods and is off – already calling out the order to the chefs in the back. 

“Why did you choose those meals? I assumed you’d wish to browse and find the most expensive thing on the menu.”

“Because I remember you were fond of a dish similar to this.”

Venti stops Zhongli from slinging an insult as a response, his gaze instead lowering. The gesture was kind and in that moment, he remembers – there were times where they had enjoyed each other’s company instead of insulting one another. 

Zhongli treasures those rarities. 

“It’s a rich dish. Part of Mondstadt finds its way into it.”

That was a bit surprising. Venti’s inquisitive stare says all it needs to.

“The pork used is imported. While we value Mondstadt’s wine highly here, we enjoy the meat provided by Springvale as well. Perhaps the wooded area provides extra nutrients or there is a fine lineage of boar there, but it’s precious to this meal.”

Venti hums a bit.

“So, as much as this may seem like it is one of Liyue’s finest… it’s actually a joint dish with Mondstadt. Huh.”

“You could surmise that.”

Venti finally takes his wine, sipping thoughtfully with a satisfied hum. 

“That is strictly Liyue, however,” Zhongli says with a small, proud smirk. He too enjoys a sip. It’s been too long since he shared drinks with Venti, and it brings him back to old days. Where the boy flew down from the heavens to bother him on his daily duties. Some things never changed, truly. 

“I was thinking… and I know, a rarity! —Bite your tongue, blockhead. However, upon passing my time today, I befriended a fisherman. He offered, in exchange for a song for his estranged wife, usage of his small boat. Would you join me tomorrow for an afternoon of fishing?”

The thought feels foreign. When he thinks of Venti, he thinks of freedom. Of the sky, of birds slicing through clouds. To think of the little Archon rocking into a boat and trying to catch anything he could? It feels… unfitting. 

“Have you ever fished before?” Zhongli wants to get that matter out of the way first.

Venti scrunches his nose up.

“No. Have you?” 

“Some. It’s not a particular talent of mine, nor do I find the call to do it when we have so many fine fishermen in the Harbor.”

“Then we can learn together! C’mon, you can provide the wine since I provided safe passage!” Venti is all too eager. 

Maybe it was less about fishing and more about spending time with an old friend. 

Zhongli can’t say that he doesn’t find the suggestion appealing. Even with his guarded stance on friendships and relationships, Zhongli was lonely. The thought of leaving work early – having a reason to look forward to the lowering sun? It feels… nice. Welcoming. 

“You wish to make me look like a fool teaching you, don’t you?”

Venti takes another harsh sip and instead leans over the table a little, nearly out of his chair entirely.

“I wish for you to enjoy your retirement for once. Sail away with me, Zhongli, and leave Liyue behind for just a little while. They’ll be fine without you!”

The tightness in his chest was a vice – squeezing at his heart. Zhongli isn’t used to someone challenging his struggles so boldly. Hu Tao merely teases him for being ‘old’ or for being ‘boring’. Venti knows how to get to the root of what pains him. 

And it was feeling as if the grip on his domain needed to be loosened or else he’d suffocate his people. Zhongli muses to himself with a steady breath. The waitress returns soon with two hot bowls prepared. Venti’s back in his seat and looking over eagerly with a spoon clutched in his hand. The sight was… adorable? The geo archon often forgot that such a meal could mean so much to one who does not partake. 

Respectfully, Zhongli lowers his head.

“I’ll see what I can do. Will you wait for me on this ship of yours, then?”

Venti had already given a wave to the waitress as thanks, spooning up a bit of the pork belly and letting it hover over his lips. He doesn’t take a bite.

“Always! You have my word. Just - aha, don’t leave me hanging or else I may float away.”

Zhongli laughs a short but warm chuckle under his breath, the thought of the bard out at sea truly worth it. Zhongli makes no promises he cannot keep, but he keeps good company and conversation well into the night. They enjoy tales of all times, teases, and hopes for the future – all before the waitress has to kick the two out. 

Fortunately, they had just enough to pay for their meals, with an Archon’s stamina ensuring they can still walk on their own two feet as well.

Chapter Text

Up until the very moment Zhongli’s shoe nearly slipped on the slime of the boat’s edge, he never regretted his choice. 

The boat was less of a marvel than the one Zhongli was used to enjoying tea on or meeting potential customers in. Even correcting those who spread lies and misinformation about Rex Lapis at least treated him to the grandeur of the Harbor’s view and the finest of meals while on the water. 

This… was simply a row boat. Small. Rickety. It took all of Zhongli’s courage to not abandon the poor vagaband at the dock, but – he arrives and steps foot on what is potentially his coffin with an unsure step. 

“Be careful, it’s slippery!”

“You could have warned me on the dock, Venti. Before I nearly fell into the sea.”

Venti snickers a bit, the bard seated on the opposite side of the small boat with his back to the edge. 

“We really will just see if rocks do sink to the bottom then.”

“Are you trying to be an annoyance already?”

The back and forth was their default state. Bark with a little bite. Snark with a little sass. Zhongli was a patient man if he could keep his relationship with the anemo archon strong enough to withstand the gusts of Venti’s personality. It can be a lot to deal with, but then there are rare moments as gentle as a crisp morning breeze.

Perhaps he was a glutton, centuries of dealing with this and yet… the border remained open between them. Morax kindly welcomes Barbatos when the wind does decide to bring him to Liyue. 

Venti had been waiting all afternoon. Speaking with the fisherman, learning the (apparently) perfect cast and even going as far as to test his net tossing on a local cat. Confidence in fishing was ill-warranted, but he still went through with this expecting the best possible outcome. What could go wrong? 

Spoiler: everything.

Zhongli settles on somewhat shaky legs, finally seated across from the bard in a too tiny, aged rowboat. Venti nudges the fishing rods with his foot proudly. 

“We have everything we need. I got some special bait too. Negotiated it with the fisherman!”

Zhongli perks a brow a bit, studying the supplies acquired. It was, surprisingly enough, thoroughly planned.

“Ah, so you’re learning the ways of bartering?”

Venti turns a nose up at that. 

“No, that art is far better suited for you. I just asked if I could get some bait. He agreed once I promised to give him my biggest catch.”

Zhongli laughs, “And what would you do if your catch still remained in the ocean?”

The bard strokes at his chin thoughtfully.

“I suppose I’d need to turn you in?”

Zhongli feels a rush of heat against his face, a twitch of his lips and he’s ready to ask a million questions in one breath – what was THAT supposed to mean? 

The way Zhongli looks at him nearly fuels the bard to continue on. Did he slyly get the best of the old man? After all, a teasing jab was a formidable weapon against those unsuspecting, especially those made with the toughest, oldest of stone. Zhongli feels the need to leave already, fatigued by his old friend’s slip of the tongue and aloof ways. 

…But, he misses them just as much. He doesn’t feel like this with Hu Tao, as similar as she may be in terms of being a handful and daily headache. Venti offers true life , as if every second had to be treasured or it would be a waste. 

Zhongli clears his throat as Venti looks out onto the water.

“Aren’t you going to pick up an oar? I will not be the only one to row on this excursion.”

Studying the features of the bard, he can pinpoint the exact moment his lips curl up. There was something mischievous about this reaction… 

With a sudden flick of his hand, a teal burst of energy slams into Zhongli’s back. He roots himself – clutching onto the sides of the boat with a firm grasp. That majestic ponytail has no choice but to whip around wildly. 

“Barbatos –”

Before Zhongli realizes what is happening, their boat skims forward. While there was no sail to catch the beautiful wind, the force of a lingering gust would be enough. The boat slices the surface of the water, taking them far away from the docks. Venti’s beaming with pride as the blue expanse surrounds them, offering them no clarity on how the fish will be biting.

“There are very few things we can afford ourselves now, little pleasantries that we feel is earned. This afternoon, fishing on Liyue Harbor… I believe we can afford a little wind to guide us to the perfect spot. Don’t you?”

Zhongli settles his nerves a bit, combing his hair back to ensure he doesn’t look like an utter fool. With one of the rods clasped upright, he begins to inspect the quality. A fine work for a subpar vessel, but he keeps it to himself. Venti had already begun opening up the small bait jar, pulling a fake worm from the jar with a smirk. 

“Look how gross it is,” Venti dangles it between his fingers and wiggles it near Zhongli’s face.

“Hook it, don’t just show it off like that is your prize.”

His tone is firm, making Venti snicker under his breath. He’s not an absolute pro at this, but he is able to bait the hook without cutting himself. Zhongli will eventually follow suit with his own rod – fortunately keeping his gloves on during this whole mess.

“I must ask you, Venti. What made you choose fishing of all things? For the amount of times you’ve visited Liyue, you never showed an interest. I expected you to take in an opera, beg for samples of the wines during happy hour, and –”

“Zhongliiiii, does it matter? It was something new and exciting. Those are the kind of memories I wish to share with those special to me. I could have a thousand drinks with a thousand people, but they blend together. You should be humbled to know you are the only person I have ever fished with.”

And most likely will ever fish with. Venti wobbles to his feet – steadily and carefully so as he remembers the motion that he was taught by the fisherman. With a whip of his arm, the line casts a modest distance away. The bait plops into the water and Venti sits back down, waiting. Then some more waiting. And some more waiting after that. This is easily the worst part.

“I suppose you are right. I’m not exactly sure you’ll have fun, however –”

Zhongli looks at his rod and with some phantom knowledge of sorts, does a cast of his own. He remembers casting lines in the rivers leading to Lingju Pass, but never did become much of a noted fisherman as much as he was a sculptor of the land and master of commerce. It wasn't good form, but Zhongli remained seated all the while, limbs stiff with tension to indicate that he is still on the defensive. It had been some time and Venti’s words do make him at least look at him fondly instead of the typical annoyance.

They are silent for a period of time. The waves crash to the side of the boat, Venti’s foot taps to a song only he knows, and Zhongli lets a satisfied sigh slip past his lips.

Before another word is uttered, Venti’s line twitches. It’s brief and both of them silently wait until the rod threatens to be tugged into the water. 

“Venti. Reel it in.”

Right! With a willful pull of those tiny arms he calls biceps, the rod is pulled and Venti begins to reel back with a sense of urgency.

“Careful, don’t tense the line. Keep doing so and it’ll snap. But don’t let it get –”

“Not helping!”

Fishing felt like a challenge Venti has never faced before. He watches as a modest-sized shape skirts the surface of the water. How it evades his tugs to try and pull further out. Finally, the bard makes headway. Closer, closer – Zhongli is at the edge of his seat, the fish on the cusp of being pulled out of the water and into their boat.

It’s up and airborne, dangling at the end of the fishing line, leaving Venti gasping out sharply before a plop makes itself heard. 

Off the hook it pulls. 

Venti clutches the side of the boat with his rod nearly falling out into the water. Zhongli is kind enough to snatch it before it did exactly that.

“What is the saying? There’s a million fish in the sea,” Zhongli’s words were soft, astute. He avoids the strong temptation to tease as Venti might do to him were positions reversed.

“But, that one mattered! I wanted you to marvel at my fishery and skill,” Venti huffs in response, already pulling his line in. He takes the fishing instrument from Zhongli carefully, eyeing the bait yet again. Maybe he’ll try another?

With a twitch of Zhongli’s line, he casually begins to reel his in. Venti’s too busy wallowing in his own dramatics that he misses Zhongli pulling in a simple, modest Crystalfish. By the time Venti’s eyes leave the water to his friend, he’s left with a face composed of nothing but shock & awe. 

“Huh?! How?!”

“Patience and restraint.”

That sounds too simple. Venti feels a rush of annoyance go through him, and Zhongli can’t help but smirk a little bit at the frustration on Venti’s features. It was the first time since the bard flew in on what felt like an eastern gust to his nation where he feels like he hadn’t been thrown into a whirlwind.

Zhongli puts the fish aside in the bucket between both of them with only a minor grimace from his features.

“Luck. That’s all it was.”

“If it was luck, I’d like to think the fish would be… ah, a little larger.”

It was a puny fish, but one more fish than Venti’s caught. 

Venti abandons the rod and instead grips to the netting – weighing it between his fingers before hurling it out into the water. Zhongli goes ahead and recasts once he properly baits once more.

“Are you even having fun?” Venti asks with a soft tug of the rope connected to the net.

“I am. I hope you are as well,” the honesty in his tone was clear. Soft, reserved. 

Before Venti can answer, he interjects, suddenly reminded of crab catching with a net similar to this.

“Do you remember the first time we shared a Golden Crab? I can’t remember how long ago it was.”

The memory was a fond one. Venti came to Liyue inebriated beyond belief, demanding a meal that would ensure he wouldn’t be hungover the next day. The two, unfortunately, shared a bottle of wine and ordered the Golden Crab. The bard went on for thirty minutes about the method in which the crab was fried, marveling at how it was prepared. Zhongli just had to chuckle at how utterly drunk his old friend was and how endearing it was to see him in mere awe of something so simple.

“I still don’t think you understand how it was made.”

Venti huffs. 

“It’s obviously fried, but… the uh, crispiness… it had to be its skin, right?”

Zhongli reels his line back in after feeling the line tense, but finds his bait still intact and a fish seemingly avoiding its fate. A pity for him. Another chance at life for his sea-dwelling friend.

“No. It’s a wet batter. I shall not give away the ancient secrets, however. The cooks in Liyue had developed this method early once they settled in the Harbor. By doing so, they were able to prepare more complex meals than simple roasting or grilling. It elevated the flavor, added a heartiness that felt … new. Refreshing. The people have adapted the method to many other meals since.”

The rambling isn’t anything new and Venti tilts his head back with his eyes shut for just a moment. There’s sentimentality in each word, a comfort offered with each syllable. As boring as Zhongli may seem, Venti can appreciate that the man knows how to speak. It relaxes his nerves after his failed attempt, a small smile remembering the meal they shared – even if he remembers little else of that day.

“Let’s have it again, Zhongli.”

It was a blunt request, enough to make Zhongli smile. Warmly and fondly, such a meal would be best shared with friends. 

“Of course. I get paid tomorrow, so it will be my treat.”

Good , Venti thinks, because there’s not a single Mora to Venti’s name right now. 

Just as his lips part to speak, Venti’s net is tugged. Both of them stare at the rope, and this time, the bard was already tugging it up. Zhongli abandons his rod without recasting. He’s too invested in this. Drawing the net up was far more difficult than a line. The bard struggles and Zhongli can already see the strain. Without another word, Zhongli was behind Venti, arms outreached around him and taking the rope above his hand. 

Venti nearly flings himself right into the water from the shock of being so close to his friend. Closer than he’d ever recall, honestly. They never hug or anything close to such a gesture, so it was a different feeling. 

Yet, Venti trusts Zhongli. Together they are tugging up the net quicker than the tension would dictate. It doesn’t take long until two old retired Archons are able to see the fruit of their labor. Trapped into the net is something bulbous and large, its copper skin slick and catching the afternoon light harshly. Into the boat it flops and Zhongli peers over Venti’s shoulder with a bit of spit finding itself stuck in his throat. He tenses up while simultaneously moving away from Venti, creating as much distance as he can in such a small boat.

“Is this –”

“An octopus. Don’t touch it,” Zhongli’s voice is grim and direct as he scolds Venti like a child even while the younger Archon is still tugging at the net. The creature was trapped – flailing just enough to make Zhongli pull his feet away.

“Why? Is it poisonous?”

“No. It’s just… not something you should touch.”

“Looks slimy. Is it?” And that was Venti reaching down to run a finger against one of the tentacles sticking through the netting. Any larger of a hole and Zhongli knows it would have contorted its body through. 

“No. Stop playing with it. We were to go fishing, not …”

“Octopusing?”

“Barbatos.”

There’s an unsaid tension in the ship. Venti allows the creature to settle before he realizes what was going on. A small smirk and boisterous laugh escapes his lips. Oh, how the mighty Rex Lapis has fallen.

Wait. Is that joke too soon? Hm.

Venti’s words are coy, a soft giggle peppering between them, “Zhongli, ehehe, are you afraid of this creature?”

“Absolutely not. I do not prefer it over fish and I do not believe we should be playing with it like some toy.”

“You live in the Harbor. Aren’t these common?”

Zhongli knows full well that the sealife can easily encroach itself into their space. This one is a bottom dweller, but every so often during the right season does it find itself closer to the surface. 

“Uncommon. Leave it alone , Barbatos.”

And then there’s a flash of deviancy that brings back the slyness of the windborne wisp.

“What? This?”

The tentacle is raised up with the creature squirming. Venti moves closer, the tendril flailing sloppily in his grasp. Zhongli tenses up with a scowl, another dark rumble past his lips.

“Drop it, Barbatos, before you do something to earn my wrath–”

The wrath of the rock is long gone, he would normally think, but Venti risks it all in his childish, impish attempt at pranking his oldest friend. The net is dragged closer to Zhongli, and before Venti could parse what happened – the geo’s eyes burned with an amber that puts Cor Lapis to shame. From the sky comes a meteor sailing downwards towards the blanket of water, summoned forth from the powers deep within his very being. He may offer his Gnosis and fall from the grace of Archonhood – but he is forged from geo nonetheless. Within a split second, the meteor sinks into the harbor, with the sea creating a harsh wave that appears over their boat. Zhongli is quick to summon a shield around himself, but he purposely avoids to do the same for the bard. He gets the enjoyment of being hit with the impact directly.

The rickety boat rocks back and forth, nearly capsizing but remaining afloat. It doesn’t stop Venti from going overboard, though. Once the water settles and Venti re-surfaces, he’d be met with Zhongli looking down to him floundering around. The net had been tossed overboard, taken along with the octopus as it absconds from its captives.

“Are you serious?! You could have drowned me!”

His cap floats off nearby, where he begrudgingly grabs for it while Zhongli offers the end of a fishing rod to him. 

“Come. You will be the finest catch of the day, hm?”

“You jerk, that was way worse than teasing you over an octopus!”

Venti takes the fishing rod and is tugged towards the boat, letting him crawl up over the side. As soon as he is on dryer terrain, he flops backwards until he’s lying down in exasperation. His legs hang over the edge with Zhongli looking down stoically, as if willing himself to not show how satisfied he is with his overblown sense of payback. He begins to calmly row them back to the docks, and after a few moments of painful silence,  he speaks again to the Anemo Archon now intimately aware of his Hydro colleague’s element. 

“Dry off, old friend. You shall not ruin my plans tonight.”

Chapter Text

Did Zhongli feel guilty for soaking the boy head to toe? No.

Did he feel the need to make amends? No.

And yet, here Zhongli was with his own plans ruined. When Zhongli had agreed to the afternoon of fishing, he believed they could enjoy the view of the Harbor at his small, suitable apartment afterwards. It was not the best dwelling nor the worst, and provided him something that was non-negotiable: a beautiful, constant portrait of the city. If he was to loosen his grip, to ignore the call to lead – he can admire from afar a landscape basked in a lantern’s glow. 

The two ended up in a clothing store, with Venti groaning about being too wet and squishy in his attire, fearful that he will most likely pass from pneumonia if he didn’t get something dry and warm to wear. Of course, with all matters pertaining to the bard, things didn’t exactly go to plan.

Daiyu, the seamstress, had guided Venti off in the back behind a silken screen while Zhongli awaited the boy to find something suitable. Fashion was an art he did not underestimate, but to simply replace his clothes? There must be minimal thought in the process lest they remain there far longer than ideal.

Venti, of course, did not get that memo. 

The young bard makes for quite the nice canvas. Daiyu had been harping his ear off since he arrived, but truthfully? Venti doesn’t mind. He appreciates the ones who talk with such passion. In a sense, Daiyu reminds him of Zhongli – verbose and endlessly long-winded, which might explain why he enjoys the noise even now. 

Daiyu brings in silks and cottons, multiple outfits as options for the flighty bard to choose from. Venti is at an absolute loss for words. The designs were intricate, pulling from nature with embroidery bearing the color of Liyue’s land. Craftsmanship isn’t lost upon Venti. He’s left simply smiling, eyes glazing and studying the intricacy of each design.

“Lady Daiyu, they’re beautiful. ”

The woman looks so pleased, her old fingers always peppered with sores from her endless sewing and creating. She comes up to lay a fabric to the side of Venti’s cheek, comparing colors on which would be best suited for him.

“Thank you. Sewing has been a gift my Grandmother gave me early in my life. Even after she is gone, a bit of her is with me with each inch of a garment. I cannot imagine a Liyue without my work; without my Grandmother’s work. Seeing garments passed on to children, worn with pride… it is a simple life, one worth living.”

“Wonderful… marvelous! You’re beaming with such pride and it’s infectious. Careful, I may plead to be your next model – no, your next muse! ”

Zhongli can hear Venti and Daiyu prattle on. It’s humbling to know that Venti treated the citizens of the Harbor with the same interest as his Mondstadters. Truth be told, Zhongli knew he would be withdrawn on his trips to Mondstadt, a shy Liyue visitor that was more focused on meeting with old friends than making new ones.

Yet, that was his way, wasn’t it? 

There’s a warmth of pride, like a father seeing how grown his children had become. This was as close as he’d feel towards bearing paternal instincts. His people, they had outlived the need for a god and father. Now all that remains is but just an admirer. 

Zhongli tilts his gaze up towards the silken screen, lit up by a lantern’s glow. Venti’s silhouette was so small, but he could pick up on every bit of familiar detail. The braids that dance with each twirl or bend in his body are so clearly painted in his mind. Zhongli feels the air escape his lungs when he sees such a clear picture of Venti entering a state of undress. From a lost cap to that corset being removed… It takes a few moments before he realizes he shouldn’t be looking.

With a gaze dropping to the floor, Zhongli would be alone in his thoughts. The sound of Venti and Daiyu’s conversations die away and the mind plays a dangerous game. He thinks past the silk screen, adds details to the bard’s silhouette that bring a heat to his chest. One that feels foreign whenever he pairs it with that of Barbatos. 

“Zhongli. How’s it look?”

It hadn’t been the first time he thought of Venti as being insufferably cute, but there’s a difference. Zhongli thinks of Venti in a way that feels rare. Layer by layer stripped away and nothing to hide behind – no sunny personality, no flightiness, only bare. 

He shouldn’t think of Venti’s braids undone and combed through freely. 

He shouldn’t think of his friend like this and yet – 

“Zhongliiii, hellooooo! Did you fall asleep?!”

There’s a snap. He’s brought back to reality and his amber hues settle on a gift wrapped in mint silk. Venti stands proudly in a Liyue garb, one that matches the brilliance of his eyes in a way that a silly bard attire couldn’t. 

Perhaps in that moment, Zhongli realized something about Venti: that he was closer than he had ever been. 

“No. I didn’t. My mind wandered.”

Venti perks a brow, a little hesitant at the answer. Zhongli was short with him, much more than considered normal. However, with his hands lifted up… he shows off the Liyue garb in full pride. Daiyu stands off to the side, proud and eager to show off her handiwork.

“Sir Venti, was it? He wears it masterfully. I took the hips in a bit to allow the belt to settle. The flow of the hanfu doesn’t hide your body, but instead brings attention to it. The shade was made for you, I do believe.”

Is that red creeping upon Venti’s face? There’s an awkward rub at his neck, a nervous giggle stifling past the back of his throat.

“Ahaha… you humble me greatly. Perhaps we shall simply see if I pass the test with my Liyue host.”

Zhongli points his gaze, standing and circling around the boy. The details are beautiful, and he can’t stop his hand from pressing into the silk of Venti’s sleeve. 

“I would be a fool to speak ill against any design you prepare, Madame Daiyu. Your eyes have kept style and sophistication as a focal point to this Harbor. If Venti likes it, we will purchase it.”

Venti tilts back on his heels, lifting up the arms that were grossly oversized compared to his normal attire. He likes the feeling, though, and with a look in the mirror, he feels like Zhongli can approve of it as well. 

“So, it has Zhongli’s stamp of approval?” Venti questions with a slight adjustment of his belt.

“It does. You look beaut –”

There’s silence.

Zhongli clears his throat and Venti’s eyes watch his reflection. Stunned. Simply too stunned.

“It looks beautiful on you,” such a simple correction comes far too late, “Please let me know the total and allow us to put his wet clothes in a bag.”

“Of course, Mr. Zhongli. For this particular ware, it would be 125,000 Mora.”

Once again: silence! Venti chokes on his words – brows furrowed into the bridge of his nose. He was simple, lived a life where months of napping in a tree wouldn’t bring him any bitterness. The amount was vast for even an Archon to accept, and even if he … ah, lived well in his means of mooching… his words were quick:

“That is too much! Is there a shirt or maybe a pair of pants I can maybe–”

“We’ll take it. It’s fine. Please charge my account and you’ll receive proper payment by the end of tomorrow’s sunset. You know I am prompt.” The Mora wasn’t an issue. Not when he has means to acquire it. 

Daiyu doesn’t question him. A small smile and she’s off to prepare the wet clothes. 

Venti feels a bit guilty, but there’s sincerity in his voice.

“Thank you, Zhongli. For your kindness. If I knew you would spoil me, perhaps I should have traveled here centuries ago…”

The snicker on his lips was an indication of him kidding, but Zhongli lingers on the thought. Should he have spoiled the former wisp sooner…? To have seen him more often through the years? It hadn’t been simple. There was no way it could be. Venti, for all of his claims of simplicity, was still complicated. Their history was weaved through tragedy, for allegiances that bettered their nations and turned warriors into friends. 

“Speak nothing of it. Consider it your official welcome.”

Dutifully, Daiyu returns with Venti’s wet clothes in a bag and thanks the two for their patronage. 

Just as quickly as they had settled with providing Venti proper replacements, they were gone. The two talk of little things – of Mondstadt’s own tailors, of what the fisherman thought of the pitiful fish Zhongli offered to them and of what Venti’s remaining plans were. 

Of course, for the latter, he had no clue. He’ll just follow the wind and drag Zhongli along for the ride.

— — — 

The ocean takes the sun hostage. Shadows are cast among every alley in Liyue. Lanterns glow one by one, rivaling the stars sprawled across the clear sky. The small balcony could barely fit two people, but Zhongli rarely had visitors. It was perfect – a balance of solitude and feeling connected to the Harbor. The wine flows between them, a modest meal shared less formally and more-so picked at via a platter of cheese and meats. It keeps their spirits high and occupied while they continue to converse and catch up with one another.

“ – so I told Miss Lisa to save her lectures for another day. Y’know, out of instinct. Kaeya had teased me so much about leaving her book out in Windrise that it just… slipped out! I think her lightning rivals that of the Raiden Shogun. My hair was frizzed for a week!”

Zhongli lets a warm chuckle slip past his lips, a hand going up to catch himself from showing too much of a toothy grin. He’d never give Venti that much power. It doesn’t matter how much alcohol he consumes.

“I’m not sure about that. This Lisa, however, sounds formidable in the written word. I’d like to meet her. Learn more things about Mondstadt that may bore you.”

“You think Mondstadt bores me?! I love it. The history is juicy and has much more triumphs than tragedies. It is nice to know there is a fine library collecting its history,” Venti may not like being shocked, but he did like bugging Lisa for a book or two. 

With a sip of his wine, Zhongli denies him, “Never that. To think you were bored of Mondstadt would be a betrayal to my very view of you. Would you think Liyue had bored me?”

“Never,” there was no delay in Venti’s words. It was sharp.

“Then you have nothing to worry about. Meeting the city’s librarian would merely allow me to have more to converse with you on. As much as I trust your recollection… another view and another source is always appreciated.”

Zhongli’s words weren’t meant to insult, so instead, they remain solemn. 

Venti just laughs, chewing between cheese and then sampling the wine provided. It was a nice, calming evening. He didn’t think of being dunked in the Harbor, nor was he angry that Zhongli didn’t call off work for him. The times were changing and moments like this feel like they’d grow rarer with each setting sun. 

“I’ll introduce you when you come visit me. ”

“And who said I’d do such a thing?”

That earns a gasp. An honest gasp! If he was any brattier, Zhongli may have a drink thrown in his face. They tease one another to earn those little looks of surprise, read a language that words don’t do justice. Zhongli was pleased to know the offense he caused the boy. Perhaps he desired to have Zhongli in Mondstadt.

It was a nice feeling, to be wanted.

“Blockhead, don’t play cute. I think if I made the journey here, you could at least visit me in Mondstadt. I know you’re not that busy playing dress up with the dead. Come visit me and I’ll return every gesture you’ve shown me today. Perhaps you’ll even dress more casually too!”

The thought makes Zhongli groan. Mondstadt may have its own unique attire, but … it doesn’t suit him. He doesn’t possess the charm like Venti, he feels. 

“... Do you like your outfit?” Zhongli questions with what appears to be the smallest hint of a soft plea on his stone-like features.

Venti lifts the large sleeves up again, laughing, “Of course. I wouldn’t dare let you waste the money on it if I didn’t. It’s more soft than I could have imagined and Daiyu… you can tell there’s a lot of love in this.”

Of course there was. Liyue was no stranger in supporting the arts, tailoring and seamwork was included.

“I’m glad. It suits you. Perhaps you can leave it here and when you return…”

He speaks too quickly, the implication of holding onto Venti’s clothes feels too intimate. The old rock turns red in the face almost immediately.

Venti, of course, doesn’t turn down a chance to rib his friend back in his best (read: worst) Zhongli impersonation: “And who said I’d do such a thing?”

“Aha, fair… I spoke presumptuously.”

There’s a bit of silence from Venti. His eyes don’t ignore how flustered the man looks. His finger runs along the edge of his glass, as if he could find something in there to say that didn’t feel forced. Didn’t feel too open. 

“...Do you want me to return?”

The question slips out without much thought. It’s out in the open and Venti looks up to his friend with interest. Expectant, as if wanting and looking for any reason to come back to Zhongli.

“Barbatos. Why would I not? Retirement or not, do you not… feel lonely? The life of a bard is one of life and performance, but… the companionship of tavern patrons would feel hollow. Just as it does for me with my clients. To have friendships, to make memories well into our best days… it’s –”

“I understand,” Venti interrupts, “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

The moment lingers in the air as Venti leans against the railing of Zhongli’s balcony, eyes watching the last of the ships dock for the night. Mondstadt didn’t have this. The city was secluded, but it seems like he can see as far as his eyes would allow him in Liyue.

He feels free here too. 

Zhongli doesn’t dare comment on it. His heart skipped a beat and his grasp on his glass grew a bit tighter. The way Venti said that… It made him feel so appreciative. For all of the back and forths – spilled wine and meteors summoned, for drawn out naps and faked deaths… was this moment worth all of that? Zhongli doesn’t believe anything could erode how Venti looks tonight and the feelings he feels grasp upon his chest. Considering his stance on erosion, that means a lot. More than he probably even knows.

Utter appreciation fills him to the core. 

“The Harbor feels like it has more excitement in it when the Mondstadt wind blows through. It would please me to have it stop by more often.”

Venti realizes in that moment what Zhongli really means. He’s lonely, truly lonely. His question earlier had bounced away so quickly that it didn’t settle. Now Venti’s chest tightens, and the thought of Zhongli welcoming him makes the ends of his hair glow vibrantly. He feels hot in the face for feeling so happy about it. 

He’s lost, eyes catching the reflection of lanterns in his glass of wine. 

Yet, his attention was pulled away by the soft brush of Zhongli’s hand to his cheek. His knuckles brush to Venti’s jawline, his braids flowing like water over his fingers. 

“Are you alright?”

Venti pulls away out of instinct, looking up to Zhongli with trembling eyes. 

Close.

They were so close. 

“You’re… flustered? Cyan…” Zhongli whispers, his fingers pulling from Venti’s braids and respecting the distance he newly creates.

Venti is. He’s not sure why. And it frustrates him that Zhongli doesn’t understand why. He can’t get away saying things like this, not without knowing how badly he wanted to stay here a few more days. 

“It’ll go down. Don’t make it into a thing. ”

Zhongli can feel his heart quicken in his chest and he wants so badly to prod him. Ask what he was thinking about further. If he was a more forceful man, a teasing one, he’d have given Venti the same treatment he always did to him. Payback in the form of leaving an impression, in haunting his thoughts and occupying those parts of his mind that Venti was lost in now. Curiouser and curiouser.

Yet, they silently stand there, with Zhongli being the stone that finally budges first. He faces the Harbor with a silent acknowledgment, aware that Venti needed a moment. Perhaps he had angered him? Made him uncomfortable?

It doesn’t sit well in his chest. 

“Visit whenever you’d like, Venti. Please remember that.”

But, how badly did Zhongli want him to? Venti waits to hear the words, maybe a bit selfishly – but they never come. He wanted to know without a doubt that Zhongli’s words were more than sweet pleasantries. Venti wanted to know that Zhongli wanted his company as badly as Venti wanted his. Perhaps it wasn’t until that moment, dressed in Liyue garbs and looking out into the entire expanse of the Harbor’s best view that he realized… it doesn’t matter. He couldn’t pull his eyes from Zhongli. 

He steps forward, facing the same direction as Zhongli. The tension lingers in the air like an incoming storm, the static makes their words sparse and stuck in their throats.

The lanterns, one by one, begin to fade out. The city falls asleep and all Zhongli will feel is Venti’s hand cupping at the back of his. No words, only silence for a fair amount of time. They stand there as archons, of old friends, and fools… wishing for things they think can not pass. 

For a loneliness to be snuffed out, just like a lantern’s glow.

Chapter Text

They will say their goodbyes in the evening, that much is certain. 

It took some convincing, but Venti accepted a gesture of Zhongli’s kindness. If he unleashed the drunken bard onto the streets last night, who knows where Venti would end up come morning. It was his responsibility to offer room and board to his friend, to provide a safe haven for a change. The spare bedroom of his abode was lonely. Hardly decorated, but still clean. He tended to avoid receiving guests of any kind. It was Venti’s tonight.

As much as Zhongli tried, an hour passed and all he could think about was that cyan glow from Venti’s braids. As he had laid there, the darkness canvassed the room where shadows barely danced along the wall. When his eyes finally shut, he swore he could still see that same vibrant light. 

The room rested just a couple dozen steps away, within reach and close enough to bring life to the pristine apartment Zhongli claimed for himself.

Zhongli felt that he should maybe speak with Venti and insist that he consider staying a few more days. It was foolish to let such a lingering thought keep him up at night when he knew how desperately sleep called for him. 

It took resilience to ignore the call of making those couple dozen steps for as long as he had, but even he felt an insatiable desire for answers. Curiosity can get the better of anyone, god or no.

After some poor choices, Zhongli abandons his bed. Footstep by footstep, lighter than a stone skimming a water’s surface… the war he wages inside of himself feels like something he’d never experienced in all his time. He needn’t throw spears, needn’t lay enemies to waste. It was his own mind betraying him, thinking of how Venti looked as he rested.

Every moment he lifts his hand to knock on the door, he denies himself.

He couldn’t.

Another couple dozen steps lead him back to his room, alone with his thoughts and wanting well into the morning.

Hours feel like seconds as he lays half-asleep. Zhongli swears he will blink and the sun will skirt the horizon before he knows it. They speak little of that night, but Zhongli continues to think of a cyan glow from Mondstadt creeping into the darkness of his bedroom. It has become all-consuming by now, basking him in a warmth he hadn’t felt since… 

Guizhong. 

He stirs from his bed with doubt in his mind, a desire to stay lost in the sea of silken sheets and chase the warmth left behind. It haunts him, like ghosts that occupy a space in his mind he’d never forfeit.

Of regret. 

Of loss. 

Venti had made him think of how small his frame would be in the expanse of his own bed. He can’t help but imagine how he’d look waking up with a fatigue that was far more mortal than that of an Archon. 

The warm gold glow of Liyue doesn’t encourage him to greet the day as it usually would – he misses the cyan and accepts a world where Venti’s warmth was out of reach. Zhongli’s mind wanders, thinks of those couple dozen footsteps that separate him from his old friend.

Because that’s all he is, right? An old friend.

— — — 

Venti struggled to sleep that night, counting down the hours until he was meant to leave. The alcohol had settled easier than usual in his chest, but his thoughts tore him apart. Replaying the husk in every word from Zhongli’s baritone voice, tracing his own fingers against the lines of his own palm – recalling the way Zhongli’s knuckles pressed into them so tenderly. It was torture. True torture. 

It was a feeling that was softer than he ever imagined. No jagged stone, no roughness. Zhongli was tender in a way that was new and exciting from that of the curmudgeon he has affectionately known all this time. There had been far more smiles cracked than he was used to. 

And he wished to see more of it.

Venti is up earlier than Zhongli, stirring around in the bed until he abandons it outright. He sits at the small desk in the corner lit up by one of the many lanterns adorning his home.

He’s bitter, sad, and lonely. Swallowed up by the frustration of failed words and feeling the binds of restriction on him. Venti was often forthcoming but never loose-lipped. Oh, how desperately he wanted to see Zhongli’s true feelings towards having a Mondstadt visitor occupy his bed. 

Zhongli had never been open to him, never pleaded or asked for things without a fair trade. Contracts, contracts, contracts – Zhongli worked in give and take; nothing more, nothing less. 

What could Venti offer him that was worthwhile to his honesty? 

He takes a quill and dabs it in the set ink pot. A piece of parchment paper from a uniformed stack is placed in front of him as he begins to write. To formulate what his lips can’t push out. 

Morax,

Your lands are beautiful. Your people are prosperous. You, however, are frustrating.

For your life is built upon a code no one but you could feasibly uphold. You chained yourself to Liyue for so long, letting your people build off your strength… but do you not grow tired, old friend?

Do you not wish for summer days with a cold drink in hand?

Do you not hope for getting lost in the rain traversing a land you haven’t shaped by your own hand?

Do you not covet for a night where you won’t have to be alone, with a sea of silken sheets you may likely drown in?

I hope one day you can. For you’ve dreamed of a place for your people, but what of you? 

Where will Zhongli spend the rest of his days? 

No. The questions feel unfair, and with a crumble of paper, are nothing but lost to time. Frustrating as ever, Venti tosses the paper into a small waste bin off in the corner without a second thought.

For a bard that prides himself with the written word, he can’t find the right ones to satisfy himself. None. His own wants, what he feels like he needs to hear from Zhongli… that this retirement of theirs was not just an extension of their shared Archonhood… It falls short.

And Venti brews in silence, lamenting the fact he has not a bottle of wine to keep him company during this trying time.

– – – 

The northern passage out of Liyue was always a beautiful sight. A welcome to a city, with less flair and more of a testament to the expanse of nature. Where the hustle and bustle barely disturbed the quiet divide of cliffs leading into the Guili Plains.

The bard has returned to his tights and cap, letting the cape flow with a pleasant breeze. Zhongli would be the first to admit he missed how Venti looked dressed in the Liyue attire, but this? It will always be charming. Perhaps even more-so after the experience they shared the night before.

Zhongli and Venti are able to discuss their past few days together. The drinks, the fisherman’s eccentric personality, the devotion of Daiyu and her craft – yet they don’t dare discuss the most recent night. Their walk isn’t awkward, though; they are both too stubborn to allow it. Venti’s off prattling about the Dawn Winery while Zhongli listens with a constant satisfied hum. The chance for the two of them to reverse roles – from listening to speaking – is always refreshing. The way the bard weaves his tales can romanticize any topic, and it is something that the old Geo appreciates well. 

“ – so their wine tours are the talk of the town. I never heard of such a thing, but the staff at Dawn Winery is very formidable in the business world.”

“Quite. They’ve bartered nicely and sold at a fair market price. When bottles find themselves in Liyue Harbor, they are vastly seen as some of the best you’ll find. Bias aside, of course. I’ve often given Dandelion Wine as a gift to congratulate a successful agreement with the Parlor. My clients appreciate it vastly, never once complaining.”

“Aren’t your clients dead?” Venti’s words are light, airy. He can still manage to show that smug, childish grin even now. Impressive.

“Their families are the clients, more often than not. A good drink can calm nerves and bring the truth out of anyone.”

But, the two fools are blinded by their own fears to see how truthful Zhongli was. No amount of alcohol can pry his thoughts out of him, unfortunately.

Venti stops short and turns to Zhongli – head tilted and his cap slowly pulled off of his head.

“You’ve done well to show me hospitality these past few days. Liyue has grown marvelously and you should be proud.” 

Zhongli remains silent, watching Venti’s fingers dance to the brim of his hat. He thinks of how soft the bard’s thin fingers were against his own flesh, envious of the cap in a way that makes his chest feel tight yet again. Venti’s words hang with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

“Unless you intend to travel with me all the way to Mondstadt, I will allow you to return to your day to day. Thank you, Zhongli, and remember… I’m only a nation away!”

Was this goodbye?

Already miles away from Liyue Harbor, Zhongli feels like he could keep walking forever so long as he’s at Venti’s side. The realization sinks heavy in his heart and his voice abruptly stammers a single word– 

“Barbatos.”

The bard’s eyes are expectant, lips parted as if his breath is being stolen from him.

“...You’ve brought joy the past few days and know that you are always welcome. Safe travels and return often, friend.” 

He can’t do it. He was not created to beg, no matter how much his forced smile might mask his desires. For as soft as the rock had become in the year, he is still unmovable, is he not? 

If there is ever a moment that made Venti feel as small as a wisp in a hurricane… It is now. Venti forces a smile so hard the corner of his eyes have wrinkles. 

“Of course. Always. Ahaha… try to not get yourself killed again.”

Venti deflects hard, uttering a harsh laugh that causes Zhongl to bury his brows down into his nose. They wave their goodbyes and Zhongli stands watching Venti disappear into the horizon. 

He feels a part of him leaving along the way.

– – – 

The apartment was silent. No clanks of bottles. No obnoxious laugh or giggle. No late-night stumbles or thuds of a bard’s backside hitting the floor. For one day and one day only, Venti had given him the mortal desire to want things he feels he may not deserve. 

Zhongli returns to his normal routine. He has a small dinner alone, bathes, and prepares for bed early in the evening. However, all it took was a couple dozen steps for him to leave his room and return to the one that still holds the presence of Anemo. He enters without fear, but stops right in the doorway when he sees the neatly bundled Liyue attire that had been left behind. Venti hadn’t taken it, and it sits so pitifully at the foot of the bed. It seems to miss its owner as much as Zhongli does.

Silently, he sits down onto the edge of the bed, bringing the bundle of clothing into his lap. It’s soft, possibly softer than the Silk Flowers in Yujing Terrace. The fabric is limp between his fingertips, falling like a flowing wind he can’t quite hold onto. 

When can he ever hold onto anything, he wonders?

Absent-mindedly, the fabric is lifted up. With a somber sigh, Zhongli allows it to press against his cheek. It flows against the strong outline of his jawline, spilling down his neck and tickling his collarbone as he holds onto it dearly with a desperate clutch. 

He smells the wine. Smells the fresh scent of Venti he remembers so vividly from the night before. Zhongli inhales all of the bard, each intoxicating note more desirable than the last. Each annoyance Venti offers him, he repays him now with joy. Joy that feels bittersweet. Joy that feels undeserved.

He hadn’t lied to the boy. 

He was always welcomed here, both in having a room for himself… and a place in Zhongli’s heart, he’s finally come to realize.

However, all that remained is a cold silk that did nothing for him. Zhongli is precise when he folds the attire up and stores it away in the corner of the room in the dresser. He feels like he would grow bitter if he allowed its beauty to take up any more space in his mind. A bitter man would do nothing good to his land, so he does his best to move on.

That’s what he always does.

With a glance down, he swallows down his own loneliness, a stubborn sigh pushing out in its place. Suddenly, he sees something from the corner of his eye.

A curled and crumpled paper resting in the waste bin, calling for his attention. Begging him to unfold and read.

Chapter Text

It takes a lot for Zhongli to not tremble the earth around him. 

Each word written in black ink sinks into his chest like hooks, tearing at vulnerabilities he thought were hidden away after centuries of loss and a single night of restraint. He wishes he could transform, shift to the Exuvia that no longer exists in this world so he can hunt Venti down. Demand answers, demand to see the hint of cyan dull in his eyes as he squeezes every bit of truth out of him.

A bard’s words can often be taken with a grain of salt, but for Zhongli… he listens, even if it’s too late. Venti earned that much from him after centuries of them and their constant back and forth. From arguments to joyful reunions, the wind always did find its way back to Liyue. With the note crumbled in his hands, his Geo-forged hands moved to delicately smooth it out, as if fixing the paper may restore the void left behind from their separation. It’s left alone on the desk as he exits the room without much else thought, not possessing the mental wherewithal to keep it on his person any longer.

Everywhere he goes, he’s reminded of the past few days. Days can feel like seconds for a god who has lived as long as he has, but not the ones before today. He thinks of things unsaid, of ghosts that still haunt him. If Zhongli was a better man, less of an archon, perhaps he would have simply asked Venti to stay. It would have been a painless ask. The desire was mutual, although he realized it far too late. Now he fears there may be no going back to the moment of peace they enjoyed together.

Instead, he finds himself pacing in an effort to swallow down his own irrationality. Part of him has been telling him it was for the better; another part of him insists he’s an old, ignorant fool. Lingering thoughts of doubt weren’t what made the former Geo archon so well-known, but this feeling…

… It was mortal. It was rooted in time – be it time that has long since passed for either of them to act, or a countdown until it would be gone forever.

There’s so many things that remind him of Venti now. The shade of teal to one of his robes, the breeze dancing against his curtains, and – his eyes stop on the small entranceway table.

Zhongli prefers to garden, but there is one flower he can't quite keep alive. The beautiful Cecilia, milky white and delicate, would find itself preserved in Cor Lapis and overlooking the expanse of Zhongli's lonely, quiet apartment. He’ll carefully take it into his grasp, a reminder of his own blindness.

It was in that moment, where his own discomfort with his emotions overwhelms him to the point that he threatens to shatter the amber, a small crack at the bottom reveals itself and immediately sobers him. With a pulsing glow, the amber would be restored to perfection, but not before Zhongli made up his mind.

To Mondstadt. 

– – – 

It took three days to finish his own tasks at the Parlor, to make plans just in case he took too long. The Director was as inquisitive as ever, asking questions Zhongli didn’t have the answers to. A true rarity.

What awaits in Mondstadt?
Why haven’t you used vacation days before?
When will you be back?

He tries to be as informative and honest as he can be.

An old friend.
He had no reason to.
He’ll try to be back shortly, but he’s arranged for up to two weeks of rescheduling.

Hu Tao can see there was something different about him, something more vulnerable and genuine. He doesn’t play pleasantries; he speaks of the unknown this time, something that she once thought didn’t exist to him. That earns a bit of leniency for a change, and the Director gives Zhongli the proper time off she knows he deserves. 

She’s kind enough to arrange a small going-away present – a bottle of Osmanthus wine to enjoy on his travels and advance payment for his work. It was a gesture Zhongli couldn’t ignore. A ginger, yet affectionate pat on the head and some well wishes would be his thanks before he’s off and on his way.

It’ll be a nice trip to clear his head, at least. The only stop he’ll make is that beautiful, towering tree where he’s rested his head under during many of his trips in this form. Perhaps, in a way, it makes him think of Venti… always insisting trees were somehow comfortable to rest in. This would be Zhongli’s compromise. This is how he will cope.

Wangshu Inn is a beautiful destination in Liyue. It tickles the heavens, bringing mortals to heights they could only dream of. The mechanical prowess with its moving platforms allowed the elderly to enjoy the spot as much as the youth did. It was far from climbing mountains in Liyue’s western territory, but the view? 

Zhongli was happy that the view could be allotted to anyone willing to travel. Of all the things his people have made over the years, this would be one of his favorites.

It is nearing sunset when he arrives and takes a seat at the small eatery on ground level so he can place an order. His schedule had already been decided – to rest early on and start his journey tomorrow morning. If the weather fairs well, he’ll make it to Mondstadt sooner rather than later. Dragonspine always proved to be a problem, but the winds were traveling south. He hopes it keeps the chill moving in that direction. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

By the time Zhongli looks up, he’d first see nothing but an oversized hat. A young girl, one with a confident smile and tilted gaze addresses him directly – even going as far as to take a seat across from him. That is… interesting. She continues on without waiting for an answer.

“I am Astrologist Mona Megistus and am working with Wangshu Inn. I was tasked to ensure customers are enjoying their stay,” as a way to pay for her stay, “Would you be interested in telling me about your experiences?”

Zhongli hums for a moment, far from new to these types of workers. They often work on contract, he recalls, performing odd-jobs around the place for room and board or a modest financial gain. The usual faces are too busy, so Mona seems to have been hired to pick up the slack. With his food being prepared by a top Liyue chef, it beats taking a debt out for it. He’s had enough of those, at times. So many he tends to forget. Apologies to his many financial benefactors.

“Of course. What would you like to know?” His tone is warm and safe as he seriously humors the thought. For an old archon who has talked with many types of people, astrology was an artform very few truly captivated. The fact she is working this role instead of hustling for some readings… It is yet another curious thought. She seems to entice his curiosity without trying. He wonders why… 

Mona beams, pulling out a small scroll and quill – already beginning to write.

“Your name, sir?”

“Zhongli.”

“And you’re from?” 

“Liyue Harbor,” technically speaking, Zhongli wasn’t lying.

“How long will you be staying with Wangshu Inn?”

He laughs before taking a sip of his water, looking up to the rooms perched in the tree itself.

“Only a night. I’m traveling to Mondstadt.”

“Oh, how positively interesting. I would assume many from Liyue would be preparing for the Lantern Rite.”

Right. He had somehow nearly forgotten, and that fact shocks him more than he’s willing to admit. There is still a fair amount of time to consider, but maybe he could convince Venti to return with him for it…? Perhaps he’s letting himself grow too hopeful.

Zhongli stays silent, lost in thought. Mona has to clear her throat a bit, scribbling a few notes down while waiting to see if he speaks further. 

“Well, aha, we thank you for your patronage. Is this your first time staying?” Mona feels like a natural at this, weighing in on the changes in Zhongli’s expression.

“Ah… no. Far from it. I often visit for lunch, but I have been a guest here a fair amount of times.”

Mona continues to take note, “Would you say your visits have been satisfactory?”

“Always. The establishment is clean, the prices fair, and the people pleasant. I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“And do you often bring guests?”

Mona didn’t know the chord she struck with that question. She couldn’t have. For taking on this odd job, she sees stars better than she can spot the loneliness within a man like Zhongli. He barely shifts in his seat, which would be an obvious tell for anyone who knows him and his penchant for remaining as stiff as a board. All he can think to do is keep his eyes affixed to the table that separates them. 

“No. It’s mostly myself. For business or personal reasons.”

Deep down, Zhongli wonders if Venti would approve of the place. It was impressive, always offering food and drink in high abundance. He can easily and vividly picture his friend serenading tourists and travelers for spare Mora. …And he can also picture him daring to climb to the absolute top of the tree without a single regret. 

Mona looks on as he seems lost, a soft stammer of her words breaking his pensive thoughts.

“Is… is there any feedback you can provide that would improve the quality of service?”

Zhongli, as dense as he is to his surroundings, pulls himself out of his thoughts to consider a legitimate answer. He hadn’t looked at his time at the Inn under a critical eye, but he did have thoughts. He starts with the food, how there should be warming plates to help preserve the temperature on the trips down to ground level. Then he begins going on about the sheets, suggesting they could use something thicker for colder nights. He also lists five to six vendors who would do well to serve specialty Liyue Harbor dishes, all in hopes of encouraging more patronage.

Mona lifts a hand up after she scribbles the last name.

“Very good suggestions, Mr. Zhongli. Thank you! You have a girl flustered over here.”

“Ah, you have my apologies. That wasn’t my intent. I just believe there’s always room for improvement.” 

“Truthfully, some places that hire me for work don’t see it that way… I offered to write a piece in the Steambird about their establishment, but they’ve lamented a drop in guests. I was trusted to seek out feedback and perhaps, if I’m fortunate, I can be paid for my services greatly. Your input provides such value in their success as well.”

That makes Zhongli smile. Curiously: 

“What would you have written about?”

“Ah. Normally, I offer astrology advice, but recently I’ve read the stars to help guide people’s travels. It’s the season where the weather has called for them to leave the mundane shackles of their lives for new horizons. I merely provide destinations for them.”

“And the Inn was your next suggestion. I see… It’s not every day an astrologist crosses into Liyue. The art of it is a dying breed. People are turning their eyes away from the stars and more focused on escaping fate.”

Tough crowd. Mona winces just a bit before awkwardly laughing. 

“Is that so? Do you believe in it?” Mona’s words were almost challenging. 

“I do. I believe in anything that has purpose. Astrology provides answers to those who need it.”

Mona hums approvingly. Divination is about precisely foretelling one's written destiny, but many see it as something frivolous. They know not of how deep the stars speak to Mona or the vast unknown waiting to be so clearly transcribed. 

“That’s all I can hope for. Are there any answers you need? While I’m here, as a way to say thank you for your cooperation.”

It was a vague offering, but it is what she does best. 

“How much would a reading cost, then?”

A huff and Mona was dismissive with a wave of her hand. If there is any code that she, even down on her luck with Mora, can accept? It was not making others pay to know their fates. Mona would never accept a single coin. 

“Free of charge. For as it is written, it would be told. I am no gatekeeper and such answers must be revealed. Are you interested?”

Is he? Zhongli brings a hand to his chin as he thinks about what could possibly be written in his future. An ex-archon’s future. It would be unwise to risk it… but doesn’t astrology read the future and not focus on the past? 

Rex Lapis was dead, left in the past.

What did the coming months and years hold for Zhongli?

“Alright. How does this work?”

Mona stands without another word. Her hands clasp together and she nods away from the tables. There’s a small clearing away from the tables set up on the ground level. Enough for her to summon her scryglass and truly put her water divination to the test. 

It’s been a while since he saw something other than a Vision wield water so freely – he knows it goes beyond that. Hydromancy, an art that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. And people say the Wrath of the Rock is the most fearsome…

“Your future is a constant, through every ripple and wave. Through every drop and splash… it is up to someone skilled in astrological arts to ensure those waves subside to clearly reflect what the stars wish to say,” Mona brings multiple orbs of water into a circle, spinning them with a wave of her hand, “Mr. Zhongli… it’s murky. Quite so…”

There’s a slight panic in her voice as the crystal clear water reflecting stars begin to transition – like dirt expanding outwards into a pool. Geo invades the water, as if someone is uprooting the soil in a pond. If Mona was to tread into this, she should be ready to see what lies beneath. She can't interpret what she’s seeing through swirls of seemingly darkened water. Zhongli looks worried for only a brief moment. Whatever that image is, it looks ominous. 

“What does that mean?”

“I– I don’t know. I can usually see things so clearly, but –”

Mona thinks back to the bard in Mondstadt – how the wind was so fierce and she was left grasping at her clothes in fear of being flung away. She refuses to deal with this again, instead summoning five more bubbles of water to try and thin out the force instead of allowing it to concentrate. She grows more stressed as another few bubbles enter the fray, rippling and trembling with their appearance . It is as if it thinned out the cloud of murkiness… and faintly, suddenly, Zhongli sees something. 

Whirlpools of wind can be found in each one, clearing the dirt and Geo from Mona’s divine Hydro display. Through the chaos, she doesn’t pick up on what Zhongli does – of the Anemo working so closely with the Geo. Together, even in the clarity of these bubbles standing before them, they hold a secret no mortal will know of. 

He sees more than Anemo energy… he sees hope. 

Zhongli’s jaw grows tight, his fist tightening at his side. 

Suddenly, pop! Each one erupts with splashes of murky filth. Zhongli steps in front of Mona so that his back is instead hit with the grime. Mona gasps out and nearly stumbles onto her backside. He’d allow no such thing. Mona, as flustered as she was, looks up to him with an appreciative nod.

“I’m sorry, sometimes… the stars speak things in a language none of us can understand until we’re ready to.”

Zhongli nods, silent and finally stepping away from her to straighten his own coat. 

“I believe you are correct. One day, perhaps we can revisit this, Ms. Megistus.”

He allows her to gather her nerves before he says his thanks and goodbyes. Once more, he finds himself alone as he retreats up the tree with his plate of food on hand. It’s cold by the time he returns to his seat, but he isn’t bothered. With his room prepared, the view of the horizon expands as far as the eye can see. 

It feels natural that his eyes fall east, wondering what Barbatos was doing. He feels more at ease than before, a heaviness that was once in his chest having been lifted. Zhongli is more confident that he was seeking something that could very well become a reality. 

He has Ms. Megistus to thank for that. Astrology really should get more appreciation.

Chapter Text

“Get up, bard. You’re overstaying your welcome.”

It’s not everyday that he has a bed to sleep in. Venti abandoned such things long ago – a call to the lands is far more suitable for a nomadic soul like himself. Four walls can’t contain a spirit so free; they shouldn’t. Yet, Venti ends up face first in Diluc’s bed with little recollection of the night prior. 

“Huh? Five more minutes…”

The tiny form doesn’t move, the comfort of soft pillows creating a luxury Venti rarely gets to enjoy. He dreams of freedom, lives through the happiness of his people and yet… something as selfish as a bed feels out of reach on most nights. 

However, with a yank of the blankets covering his body, Venti rolls onto his back and glares down to the source of the voice.

Master Diluc, the pride of Dawn Winery, is there clutching both Venti’s cap and the sheets in his hands.

“You promised you’d be gone by morning.”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much about last night. Promises or – … wait.”

Venti, groggily and with half-lidded eyes, looks around the room. He sees the Ragnvindr coat of arms, a desk full of paperwork, and a familiar heavy sword mounted on the wall opposite of the bed. Diluc’s room. He didn’t need to be smart or sober to come to a less-than-innocent conclusion.

“Did we –”

“Absolutely not. Think no further,” Diluc shuts down the imagination with a dry huff, as if trying to snuff a flame before it spreads, “I am hosting one of my maids’ family for the evening after a group of bandits ransacked their village. I had no rooms available, and it’d be utterly irresponsible to let you out into the rest of the winery after you ransacked my supply.”

Diluc’s pouty about it, annoyance dripping through each word. Venti feels a chill, almost ready to bring up Sir Kaeya because of the allusion, but – he’d best not anger Diluc further. Pensively, his hand raises up to rub away at the side of his face. 

“Okaaaay… so not the worst thing I’ve done.”

Diluc tosses his cap towards Venti before turning, continuing on as Venti still wakes up. The sun peeks through the curtains just enough to warm his skin, but not enough to strain his eyes. It was thoughtful; he suspects Diluc knew not to torture him too badly.

“Far from it, I’d assume. You came to the estate late, but turning you of all people away feels… in poor taste. I offered you a drink while I finished paperwork in my study… I came back and… twenty-five bottles later, I needed somewhere to toss you. Lucky me went without a bed all night.”

Guilt rips through him as he gazes quickly to the man already walking towards the exit, to give Venti time to prepare on his way out.

“Wait. Master Diluc…”

“It’s fine,” Diluc would never say otherwise, “The chairs downstairs were suitable enough.”

There’s a defiant sigh, as if trying to hold his words back. They were his most powerful weapons, but Diluc gives him no reason to fight. He sits there for a moment, unusually silent and just sobering up within the moment. 

“Was I too much of a hassle?”

“Always, but isn’t that part of a bard’s charm?”

Diluc, for a moment, could have been coming off teasing , but Venti knows better. Prickly as he can be, he’s alone in the room with little else said. The sun beckons him to freshen up and head downstairs, where Diluc was found in the kitchen. Despite the help of the estate preparing meals for visitors, Diluc works dutifully off in the corner to stay out of their way. The smell of fresh beef sizzling on a skillet sure was tempting, enough to make him want to weasel over and see if there would be any niblets he could grab. Alas…

“Venti. Here.”

A plate of food would already be shoved his way – steak and eggs, something hearty that would ease away his hangover. Maybe. Venti knows hangover food when he sees one. 

“Are you going to eat with me?”

“No, just go sit over –”

“Eat with me. If you’re to spoil your guest, spoil me with company too. There’s a few things we need to discuss.”

It’s a headache to piece together. Bits and pieces were remembered here and there, but as Venti makes it clear what he wants, Diluc unfortunately yields. How could he say no to Barbatos of all people? Grumpily, he’ll make a small modest plate for himself before they exit to the outdoor seating area. 

The sun stings and Venti has to adjust through a blurred vision that doesn’t want to go away. They find a place shaded by the shadows cast by the estate, at least. 

There is an uncomfortable silence as they begin to eat. There’s a distant wind, the kind Venti ensures keeps rolling through Mondstadt even if he’s long since ‘retired’. It carries a pleasant aroma from nature, rolls the clouds so freely through the sky. It was a pleasant day, and even as Venti quickly destroys his plate, he enjoys the moment. 

“What did you need to discuss? Please don’t tell me another one of your friends is acting up.”

Dvalin. The mention makes Venti snicker.

“No, no. Fortunately, due to the valiant heroes of Mondstadt, that has long since been resolved. I wanted to ask about last night. When I came here, I know there was no real reason to. The weather was manageable, there were plenty of trees to settle under for the night but… did I mention why I needed to impose?”

Diluc makes a face, as stone-willed as he was, he was not forged from the mountains. These manners were not something he was impervious to, and even if there is some bitterness that his day would be interrupted by a wayward drunk, he considers Venti enough of an ally to humor him. 

“You seemed tired and talkative, but particularly vague. More vague than usual. You said you just got in from Liyue and wished for a drink.”

Venti’s jaw tightens and he tries not to show too much of the discomfort in his mind. The thought of the lonely trek he made from the Harbor back to his own lands… it didn’t necessarily bring clarity to his heart. 

He still thinks of Zhongli. 

“Interestiiiiiiiiing…”

“Business or pleasure?” He doesn’t bite his tongue, a disapproving sigh as if he already knows the can of worms he’s opening with the question. Did he even want to know?

“In Liyue? Pffff, business! You know how highly coveted a good bard is. He travels the world to spread songs and tell tales.”

“Of course, ” his words were followed with a roll of his eyes. 

“I was staying with a friend and providing some entertainment to the Harbor. It’s beautiful this time of year, but … ah, I didn’t have a reason to stay too long.”

Diluc would be a deaf and blind fool if he didn’t see how disappointment washes over Venti’s features. 

“Mondstadt called you back?”

“No. Liyue … gave me no reason to stay.”

That hurts to say, an arrow aimed at the chest that Venti dismisses with a forced laugh – chewing on the last bit of his eggs as a way of distracting the obvious tell on his face.

“You said you were bumming with a friend of yours. Isn’t that reason enough?” Diluc realizes there could have been a fight, a misunderstanding. He’s far from well-versed with such relationships and in no position to offer advice. He sidesteps quickly, “Did you wish to return to Mondstadt so soon? Surely our city can go a few extra days without a bard.”

Venti scrunches his face up, “Awww, but the city would be musicless without me. I can’t let the kids and their little lyres steal my thunder! They have to be home before the lanterns are lit!”

“We’ll survive. –You do know there are adult bards in the city as well, I hope.”

It was a soft nudge, but Venti thinks for a moment, laughing to himself before divulging.

“I suppose it’s quite clear when I showed up on your doorstep like some lost kitten that I certainly needed a drink.”

“More like twenty-five.”

Venti smacks the table as if trying to get him to quiet down. Diluc had a way to always try and sober him – ugh, it was quite annoying. Only a certain Geo Archon was so capable of pushing his buttons in a similar manner.

“My sincerest apologies for inconveniencing you. Know that my intention to repay you for your kindness is true.”

Ugh. The rhyme. It’s almost enough to convince him to learn to enjoy a distilled spirit. Diluc sets his plate aside, a maid promptly coming up to remove their plates. Passing by are a few travelers, none similar to the one that helped with Dvalin – but Diluc gives a respectful nod either way. Venti continues on.

“My trip didn’t end the way I was believing it would, so I suppose I arrived wanting to have a familiar evening. Getting into the city would take longer and perhaps I knew you’d be home by now.”

Or, y’know, his maids would have let him in.

“Luck, that’s all it was. As I said, we have more company in the estate today and my attention is needed here to ensure they don’t feel unwelcomed,” and Diluc would be planning on finding the bandits who were causing trouble for the people… but that took time and research. 

The bard leans forward, his forehead connecting with the surface of the table with a pout.

“Did I say anything else…?”

Diluc stays silent, as if biting back his words. That causes Venti to tilt his gaze up. 

“Before or after I threw you to sleep it off in my bed?”

Oh no… it turns the bard’s face even more pale than usual. His heart feels as if he may have betrayed Zhongli in some way, that he may have spilled too much. He’s usually quite restricted and withdrawn when it comes to matters of the heart and anything pertaining to relationships beyond the superficial kind. Alcohol will loosen the lips of anyone, no matter how many millenia you might have lived through.

“Either?! C’monnnn, let me accept my shame so I can move on. I needn’t burden you by being a horrible guest and a pitiful one.”

Diluc pinches the bridge of his nose with a begrudging sigh. It was troublesome to deal with. People weren’t his forte besides managing what they may need to better their days. He’s a softie at heart, but ultimately, complicated relationships were a little lost to him. 

“You went on about retirement once you made rows of empty wine bottles on the dining room table. About Liyue and how beautiful it was now that the people could live on Rex Lapis’ teachings and not his strength.”

Piecing two and two together was easy enough, especially with Diluc’s knowledge of the suspicious way Morax seemingly passed away. He doesn’t put Venti on the spot or accuse anything, however.  Some things are better left unsaid.

“You… also spoke of retirement. Of your desire to stay in Liyue for a bit.”

Venti sputters his lips. Dismissively waving his hand, he sits straighter and waves for a maid to bring him a glass of wine. When Venti looks off, Diluc shakes his head no , making the young woman perform a 180° without any plan to actually bring the bard a drink.

“Ahhh, who wouldn’t want to spend retirement in a far off land? That point is moot. The only reason I’d have stayed is –”

“ Zhongli , I believe?” 

Shit. 

“A-Ahahaha… noooo, the osmanthus wine! And I think they’re going through a short–”

“Listen. I care not about your reasons for pillaging the cellar, but I care about when you of all people do something irrational. Being mortal, walking among us… Barbatos must learn that actions do have consequences.”

Oh… how Diluc speaks so foolishly. The old Archon carries guilt and disgust over many things, but he silently buries them away. However, there’s a tremble in his eyes as Diluc continues to speak.

“You have unfinished business in Liyue. You’re not going to have another drop here or in Angel’s Share until you sort it out. The headache you bring with your problems is not worth the Mora I undoubtedly will never receive.”

Venti’s cheeks puff out in annoyance. He has him there. Diluc puts him on a path at least, leading the winds right back to the beautiful neighboring lands. 

“But… it’s foolish to go back. There’s nothing else to say or do.”

“That isn’t what you said last night, Venti.” 

In a swift motion, Venti’s up out of his seat with both hands on the table. Teetering back and forth into his chair, he’s red in the face over such an accusation.

“That’s not fair! Drunk me could have wanted to go sail to Inazuma or set fireworks off in Mondstadt’s square or play with your hair–”

“Drunk you also has a way of leaving sensibilities alone. Didn’t you tell me you write your best songs drunk?”

Diluc continues to read Venti like an open book. The lord of Dawn Winery isn’t going to be a devoted wingman. He knows little of the famed Liyue consultant beyond a few nuggets Venti shared with him last night. He never visited the winery nor did Diluc ever cross paths with the man in his own extended stay in the Harbor. But… he sounded important to Venti. An old friend that Diluc doesn’t dare think more of. 

“If you can speak so freely, wouldn’t it be dishonorable to Barbatos to stop doing so when times are difficult?”

Diluc stands with that question and adjusts his gloves, eyes befalling on the flustered Archon.

“Figure it out before you bring more problems to my doorstep. I’d hate to make it a habit of giving you my bed.”

He’s off, leaving Venti to call out to him with no avail. The bard slumps into his chair, head tilted back with only the breeze catching the ends of his braids. It would be stupid to ignore Diluc’s words, for that man was one who doesn’t mince anything. It gives him something to chew on. To think over well into the day. 

Do all roads lead back to Liyue…?

– – – 

Most of the day was spent properly ignoring what plagues him. The sun climbs higher as Venti travels the western roads that lead around Dragonspine. He’d done good by serenading a few traveling carts, earning a few pitiful Mora in the process and taking a nap on the cliffside! Productive? That’s a subjective thought, but it gives him time to clear his head. 

He wonders what would have happened if he asked why Zhongli called him beautiful; if he asked if Zhongli was tired of being alone. True, there is no telling if they should simply toe this line of tension unless they had reason, but… was Venti hopeful there was reason? He was a coward on his last day in Liyue, he knows it. Neither man showed their hand when they needed to, and Venti suffered for that. He has to also wonder, perhaps selfishly, if Zhongli is suffering as well.

It takes a few hours of thinking over and over how he can best revisit such a delicate topic. It was a confession, the kind that Venti wouldn’t feel comfortable with until he can formulate a plan. The wind likes to bring him in directions he may not expect, but there is still a sense of thought put behind his actions. He’ll never rival Zhongli; that man had cast aside his shackles with an assasination. That took flare. Perhaps he could gather Cecilia, bring them in a vase made of the finest blown glass he can find in Mondstadt and just talk. 

The ideas, one after another one, feel worse than the last. He’s overthinking, something that Venti only does on rare occasions. Listening to his heart was difficult when there are so many things unsaid. He’d be on his little cliff well into the night if he didn’t move, so he abandons lounging around with his thoughts for action.

West of Wolvendom, Venti finds two roads that call to him. Old Mondstadt was north, the road familiar and painful in its own right. Liyue called from the west, a road that many have traveled with their open borders. Venti was foolish enough to think he’d have control of plans, but fate has another choice. For a bard at an impasse was a rarity, it also garners attention.

“Venti?” 

The attention of someone familiar. The deep baritone of a familiar voice sends a shiver down his spine, and by the time his gaze pans west, his eyes feel as if they betray him. In all of Venti’s laze, it allows Zhongli to find the path the bard is walking and cross it. 

“Zhongli? What are you doing here?! You’re not supposed to be–!”

Both of them weren’t ready for their meeting yet, leaving things… complicated. So very complicated. 

“Am I… not welcome in Mondstadt?” 

“Well, yes, but – no! I was–”

That isn’t what Venti meant. They both know it. There’s no denying the pout on the bard’s face at having his plans usurped, but there’s a relieved lightness in his chest and his lips curl too quickly into a smile. Genuine, hopeful. 

“Always. You will always be welcomed. Unless, you know, you earn the ire of the Anemo Archon. I hear he’s rather fickle. Perhaps this is my penance for arriving in Liyue unannounced..”

The roads bring them both together and there’s a sense of happiness for both of them despite the chips they feel weighing them down. Venti wanted to embrace him, bring him into a hug and take the scent of Geo captive. They compromise for a respectful nod.

“Forgive me for apparent impulsiveness. I usually leave such matters to you, but… perhaps it is time I take a page from your book. I’m afraid this couldn’t wait until Mondstadt’s wind returned to Liyue. Is there a place where we may have a discussion?”

A discussion? Venti’s eyes tremble, half fearful and half hopeful. It washes between two emotions so fast that he’s not sure what words leave his lips. Such is a problem when he’s captivated by the sight of Zhongli, feeling a second chance to speak so close.

“Old Mondstadt. If dead lands don’t scare you off. Then again, you hang out with dead people all day…”

That earns a half-amused noise from Zhongli. Erosion, such an important part of his life that he’s made his mortal career out of it. How poignant. 

“There’s beauty in the past for it brings hope for the future. Please, show me. I’ll follow you,” Always , Zhongli almost says in a hushed whisper, but he finds the power to refrain. 

Venti silently agrees, his hand brushing that of Zhongli’s as he encourages him to follow. Zhongli’s words echo in his mind: beauty in the past for it brings hope for the future. The bard has to wonder — does Zhongli truly mean those words?

Chapter Text

Long ago, there would have been no way to access the beauty of Old Mondstadt. There was something to marvel at in the left behind ruins. Solemn, wise, as if anyone who dared tread into its grounds would leave as a better person because of it – to not repeat the sins of the past. Dvalin keeps guard over such a sacred land, ensuring no harm would befall it. The lands sing a song for a select few, dying with each decade that passes with fewer and fewer visitors. 

Venti and Zhongli maintain a steady pace, speaking every so often about something small, something insignificant. About a walk they shared together hundreds of years ago; a flower that has since been lost to the world; Zhongli’s own recent, memorable stay at the Inn. Those conversations came easy. They filled time and made the walk simple, but it wasn’t the conversation they needed to have. 

When the trail ends into the apparent Stormterror’s Lair, it is as Venti had last remembered it: scars on the land, memories in his heart. He can still feel himself attuned to the strong winds, recalling the times when he was but a small wind wisp. Zhongli, on the other hand, simply sees history. Liyue had its own problems, but heralding times of the Mondstadt uprising fueled his own people to continue to do good as well. 

“Not much has changed. Dvalin’s roosted here and recovered nicely since the Traveler helped cure him.”

The thought makes Zhongli smile. If there was something they could both share, it was a helpful aid that bettered them and those important to them. 

“I’m glad to hear it. There was rarely a time, even in other forms, where I would speak with Dvalin unless you were involved… but the world doesn’t need to lose two dragons so close together.”

The Exuvia’s corpse is still fresh on Liyue’s memories, after all. 

“I figure we can take the cliff west of the centerpoint. The view makes me think fondly of the place,” as opposed to feeling a sinking bitterness, Venti believes. 

Zhongli can’t help but respect the solemn and mindful views. A nod was given and they begin their trek onward. Venti had come here often, before and after Dvalin’s curing. The crumbling stone slabs were once tall towers reaching to the heavens, yet have since teetered from gusts not intended to bring prosperity. 

Up to the overpass they go, overlooking Dvalin’s domain and oh , the stories Venti wants to tell… Some of the heroes of Mondstadt, some of the everyday people, some of the ones he’s experienced himself… but they fall short as Venti finally finds himself taking a seat, his legs dangling over the edge to the cliff below. Zhongli does not sit. Not yet.

They’re in silence for a few moments – Venti opening his mouth only for Zhongli to instead speak up.

“This is difficult.”

“Difficult?” 

“Very much so.”

Venti’s mind has a thousand thoughts rushing in at once: what is difficult, why is it difficult, and when did he realize this? For once, the bard manages to keep his mouth shut. Zhongli’s hands clasp in front of himself idly, amber eyes trying to settle on something – as if he can find the answer he wants to offer Vent out in the worldi.

“When you came to Liyue, it was unexpected. That day was to be like any other for a funeral parlor consultant, but there were certain things that brought me to you. I heard a song no one else could appreciate – coming from the god of freedom himself. It is a language that we share together. Perhaps until that moment, I did not take solace in the weight of that truth.”

Two old ex-Archons, two neighboring nations… one big burden they both share.

“Morax, it’s –”

“Allow me to continue, please. This is the one time you should allow me to be verbose.”

That earned a crooked smile, one that was acknowledging.

“The turbulence of our history is not lost to me, but something was different these past few days. I was a God of Contracts, not wagers , but I am willing to stake a bet on you feeling this as well. We had enjoyable conversations, mundane outings…”

Venti furrows his brows downward, thinking of Zhongli sending him into the waters of the Harbor…

“It felt more mortal than anything I’ve felt since casting aside the shackles of Archonhood and taking this form.”

Shackles. Perhaps that was a word that best described them. They had been chained to so much – even if Barbatos was notoriously free, was it just an illusion of freedom? Venti looks up with a twist of his body. 

“What are you saying?”

Zhongli feels as if such a question was the nudge he needed to finally take a seat down next to Venti. His hands rest on his thighs, eyes off into the dead land. 

“I couldn’t live with myself, if I didn’t tell you. Perhaps that is the most mortal thing of all.”

The tremble in Venti’s eyes betrayed him. He’s sentimental. His heart thumps in his chest so tightly but he has to keep himself from interrupting. To demand more simple terms. 

“In our old age, we’ve suffered losses that set us down paths. In the moment, on the balcony overlooking the Harbor… I resigned myself to being as I always planned to be: an onlooker. However, something inside of me seemed to awaken with the glow of that beautiful shade of cyan, Venti.” 

That night… Zhongli feels his face hot with embarrassment, unfitting for a man so guarded to want nothing more than to hold the bard’s hand and feel his lips ghost that of his own. It isn’t until days after the fact that he realizes it, but… 

There’s a fumble of his hand into his pocket as Venti interrupts.

“Zhongli shouldn’t bear the weight of Rex Lapis.”

From his jacket pocket, the amber crystal with a Cecilia is pulled out. It was tiny in his gloved hands, cradling it as if it was the most precious thing in this world. Repaired, restored – yet…

“I’m understanding that now.”

“I thought we left on good terms. If you’re pouty over something I’ve done…”

“It has never been you. I see that now. I want you to see it as well.”

Zhongli takes responsibility, but there’s a sudden burst of his hand that shatters the amber completely. Even after repairing it… on his journey, Zhongli discovered it did not feel right.

The amber shatters off the cliffside, leaving only the Cecilia in the palm of his hand. He carefully offers it to Venti, who takes it with a soft sigh quivering past lips that have dried from how hard he focuses on his old friend. Zhongli continues on.

“Loss has made me afraid. More than I could believe I could feel. Terrifyingly, I believed if I accepted and moved on, the pain wouldn’t settle like a foundation. It has, however. Venti, this flower was cultivated hundreds of years ago, after many fruitless attempts to bring Cecilias to Liyue. This was the only way I could enjoy it – to trap it. However, it deserves so much more… and life should take as much as it gives. I wished to run from my selfish thoughts of trapping you. Of taking away your freedom.”

Verbose was certainly a word to describe that . Venti lets him talk, but his frustration climbs with every syllable that rolls off Zhongli’s tongue. As he delicately cradles the Cecilia, the petals already begin to break off from the stem. 

“Hey… Zhongli. Did you read my letter?”

Out of nowhere, the question forces the color to fade from Zhongli’s face.

“You knew?”

There’s a soft chuckle, one that was more impish and in-character than anything else. 

“Words are my most powerful weapon, you know. If I want them found …I make sure they are found,” Venti snickers out, seemingly proud of reaching the man when he needed him to. 

This changes everything. Zhongli’s frustration hits a new high, and instead of being verbose… he reaches up to pinch at the bridge of his nose while closing his eyes. If there was one thing he could do, to meet Venti in the middle of this centuries-old back and forth… It was this. 

“How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me.”

The wind comes in with a strong gust, pulling the Cecilia from Venti’s hand at the mere admittance. They sit there for a few seconds that drag on like an eternity – with Zhongli’s gaze almost draconic as he demands for those words to become weapons. He’s ready to receive the onslaught. 

“You… love me.”

Venti repeats it, as if he has to weigh the revelation with his tongue. To see if it was truthful; if it was ready to be spoken. 

“I do. I’m not… for certain if I always have, but…”

“You love me.”

“I believe I do.”

“Wait – you do all this and you only believe? ” Venti’s tone turns sharp, he’s to his knees and facing Zhongli more directly with the poutiest of huffs. He nearly topples over the edge with how abrupt he moves. They have had a special kind of rapport that has existed for millennia, one that consists of exclusive frustrations and companionship they have not found elsewhere… and now they have something new. Something they both have difficulties in understanding.

“It’s different than anything I’ve felt. For anyone else,” Zhongli admits, but he does crack the smallest of smiles at how animated Venti was. It helps calm his nerves, “This is the part where it becomes a conversation, not a confession…”

Zhongli buries centuries of nerves and the weight of his blindness. Now, he looks to the bard for answers. 

The winds begin to calm again and Venti feels a lightness in his chest. It was a high he didn’t need to chase with wine tonight. Perhaps Dawn Winery would be safe from pitiful exploitations tonight. Venti has to sit on how to formulate his feelings, to offer some vulnerability in return for the one shared with him from Zhongli. 

So… his words carry on a wind that leads to the Geo.

“I suppose I should start this with as much flavor as possible after your stunt … I came to Liyue as I always randomly tend to do. To seek companionship with the one I’ve known the longest now. Imagining you retired has always brought a smile to my face, left me imagining you with gray hair and wrinkles… wagging canes at children. It made me think you’d find happiness and settle, as all mortals will hopefully do.”

The image makes Zhongli scrunch his features up, as if offended at the thought of having gray hair… He’s not a masochist. Retirement comes with a youthful-looking body for Archons.

“But… you haven’t. Day by day, you showed me that something was holding you back. Now, I know what that something was,” and it fills him with confliction, “For your fear was killing this mortal, fleshy form.”

“Please don’t call this form fleshy ,” Zhongli interrupts just once. That earns a smack on his bicep from Venti.

“ Fleshy forms or not… I enjoy my time with you. There’s times where I can get a little… ah, carried away and do things that earn your wrath, but I never mean anything malicious. The sun may bring a new day, but all days must eventually end… you are one of the few left that I wish to hold onto.”

Venti feels his hand move from its resting place, reaching out to grab onto Zhongli’s. 

“You so plainly say… what I believe I too have buried inside. I am of the wind, borne of freedom… but… heh, I feel envious.” 

“Envious? What for, Venti?”

“How easily the words leave your lips now.”

They settle at the back of his throat. For love, as freeing as it was, was a commitment. Venti owns no property and cares not to. He has allowed others to fight in battles he does not involve himself with so they may choose an outcome freely. Yet… there’s something more mortal about this than Venti was ready to accept.

For love and loss were so similar – connected by wanting to have what they may not be able to gain.

Venti feels Zhongli tilt his wrist, cupping at his palm with a tight squeeze. It’s as reassuring as it was commanding.

“I wish to be there when you find the words. A bard without his words is a terrible thing, but I won’t hold it against you too much. Allow me that, if you feel the same pull that I do…”

Almost instinctively, Venti wants to say something to refute him. His gaze settles, and before he has a moment to see the brilliant glow of amber in Zhongli’s eyes, he is lost to darkness when his eyes shut in bliss.

Zhongli’s lips take his own, a kiss so sudden that it feels like a play from Venti’s handbook. To be whimsical and free, to do what one so badly wanted to do without fear of consequence or the future. He has wanted to kiss the bard since the balcony… and maybe, if he stews on it long enough, he’ll realize many other moments from years ago. 

For now, the present is enough. Zhongli thinks not of the hope of the future or the sins of the past. All that was there was a risk well-worth the reward. 

Venti’s shock lasts only a moment until he sinks into Zhongli, instead moving his hand against the crook of Zhongli’s neck. His fingers anxiously toy with the clip that securely latches those long, elegant strands of hair. He feels out of practice, but he fumbles through returning the warmth and care Zhongli ensnares him with. 

For centuries of time, they had fallen victim to the security of their own roles. The one Celestia had insisted was for the best – the one they had resigned themselves to until their Gnosis was gone. This was as selfish as it was foolish, but it felt so good to share. 

Where Venti’s words fail, Zhongli forgives him. Across the expanse of a decaying city, something new was being brought into the world, born from cyan and amber glow.

Chapter Text

Zhongli hadn’t lied.

It was difficult.

The night they spent together on the cliffs of the domain had ended with Venti insisting they just sleep there tonight. So, Zhongli bends as he always has since this all started and spiraled out of control. The grass is soft, the wind pleasant, and Dvalin does not disturb them. Sleep, for the first time, feels solemn but not something they felt to use as an escape. 

Where Zhongli dreams of ghosts, Venti does as well. Today, they dream of something new, and it makes them awaken together before the crack of the sun. A first, but they have a considerable trip ahead of them. Venti insists they return to Liyue, but it had been so long since Zhongli ended up in Mondstadt… Eventually, they both agree to stay in the bard’s land for a week. They’ll figure out what comes next, however complicated that might be.

Through Venti’s own cunning and promise of serenading, they secure a room in Springvale with an old couple that rents out their room. Venti’s stayed once or twice, when the walk to Dawn Winery was too long and his feet too numb from the alcohol to carry him there. The aged ex-Archon would do well to keep Venti hydrated to prevent a hangover, and the old woman made the best mushroom stew for visitors. The best part about the room – a makeshift attic – was the view of the city looming in the distance. 

They stay up, talking and even sneaking a bottle of wine from the couple under Venti’s insistence. They’ll receive Mora in the mail from Liyue weeks from now, Zhongli would sure of it. Conversations are warm, bringing red to Zhongli’s face when Venti reaches out to take his hand every so often. It’s a new kind of attention and affection, the kind that allows Zhongli to stay silent for a change as he listens to the storyteller wax on about his city. It makes Zhongli notice the small wrinkles under the youth’s eyes, the way his smirk captures his attention more than he ever would have believed. When they nearly fall asleep, they’re side by side facing one another. 

“Do you have enough room?” Venti asks, his breath soft against Zhongli’s lips. 

It takes only a soft nuzzle into the bard’s features to answer, a draconic habit he hasn’t been able to shake. Venti sighs against him.

“I do. Don’t sleep in. If we’re to be in the free city by the morning, I’d like to enjoy breakfast with you. I hear much about your nation’s hash browns…”

There’s a soft laugh from Venti’s lips at the mention. Perhaps in this moment, he’d never felt so jealous over food by how endearing Zhongli speaks of them! The bard’s fingers are dutiful as they canvas the lean muscle of Zhongli’s bicep. He’s since discarded his coat to the chair near the bed, but Venti admires the gold Geo running through his arms. 

“I won’t. If I can even fall asleep…”

“Are you not tired? You seem to be quite the fan of napping ,” that deserves to be made fun of. Zhongli’s proud of it. Venti only huffs. 

“When I feel like this? Pffff. You make it difficult to. …What if… I wake up and it’s as you imply? I sleep hundreds of years. I leave you alone…”

“I’ll wake you. My word is my vow. If you’re tired, rest. I’ll always awaken you when the time is right.”

Venti smiles, not out of fear of what could await them tomorrow and the days that follow – he feels… good. He feels relief. It’s a foreign but appreciated sensation, to feel wanted and hold onto something as simple as finding this new feeling that causes his heart to throb faster. 

“Zhongli… I just have one question before we sleep. Something that has been burning a hole in my mind and is making me worried about laying here with you. I would be a coward if I didn’t ask, so…”

There’s a sobering look as Zhongli sits up enough on one elbow, but Venti steadies him with another. They’re close, their lips begging to be reunited but they abstain. It would be in poor taste to do anything more as they were guests in someone’s home. 

“Anything. Ask me.”

Zhongli’s hand raises up, brushing against those beautiful braids with a curl of his index finger. His heart sinks at the thought of what the question could pertain to. His mind races to the logical, albeit pessimistic thoughts first. Of a reality where Venti didn’t love him. If he must remain in Mondstadt. If he didn’t want to lay against Zhongli in a bed, no matter who it belonged to. 

Venti looks up, eyes soft and lips parting with a soft careful sigh:

“Do you snore?”

The amber brightens and Zhongli feels a shiver crash through his frame. Tension that teetered on fear washes away, and he sees through his narrowed vision Venti laughing at his apprehension. It would be so simple to have Liyue pay for the repairs on this old couple’s home if a Geo meteor would fall from the heavens, but instead – Zhongli tugs the former wisp into his arms. He holds him, all while his own chuckles join that of Venti’s. They laugh together until sleep takes them and offers them the promise of tomorrow at the first sign of sunlight.