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2022-01-27
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Three Picky Eaters, To Say Nothing Of The Adeptus

Summary:

If anyone else had been the one to find Xiao skulking around on the roofs of Liyue Harbor, he would have disappeared without a trace. Unfortunately, he has never found it in himself to deny a request issued by his lord—even if it is to... socialize.

Or: Xiao ventures down to Liyue Harbor to watch the Lantern Rite. Zhongli decides that his most human-shaped adeptus has also been the most half-feral one for a little too long.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Something lands lightly in Xiao’s hair, and it’s only millennia of honed reflexes that prevent him from skewering Zhongli through the throat. Then again, it’s millennia of honed reflexes that prompt him to swing his spear in the first place, so—

“Master!” he exclaims, and promptly fumbles his polearm. It vanishes before it hits the rooftop tiles Xiao is perched on, thankfully saving them all the embarrassment of the Vigilant Yaksha’s primordial jade weapon clattering down into a crowd of civilians, but Xiao is plenty humiliated by his own reaction on several levels nonetheless. For someone to sneak up on him like this—but his lord is the only one who would be able to, so habituated is Xiao to the eternal Geo of Liyue, which is synonymous with his presence. Yet…

“My lord,” he says, lowering both his gaze and his voice. “Please forgive me for raising a weapon to you.”

He hadn’t expected anyone to find him up here. He’s closer to the Lantern Rite ceremonies than he dared come last year with the Traveler, but he’s certainly out of sight of all but the keenest of eyes—and who would be looking around the darkened rooftops right now, anyways, when there are hundreds of xiao lanterns floating into the sky?

(Two hundred and eight, to be precise, at least tonight. Xiao counts them as he hears each prayer. There were one hundred and seventy-nine the previous night, and surely there will be even more tomorrow, when the Mingxiao lantern is launched. Xiao probably will not be able to see them, as the concentration of grudges that lash back against Liyue’s prosperity is most severe at that time, and he finds himself… well, no matter. He is not one for desires. It is simply that, though the lanterns may fundamentally be glowing garbage, he supposes there is a certain human charm to the way they float gently over the harbor waters.)

Zhongli just finishes ruffling his hand through Xiao’s hair, which—is not the sort of gesture he used to make before he shed his role as archon. Xiao feels rather like a cat that’s been petted the wrong way up. Discomfited, but somewhat craving more. Those types of feelings aren’t his place to pursue, however, so he says nothing.

“You have nothing to apologize for, old friend,” Zhongli says, taking a seat on the rooftop next to Xiao. His refined suit and dress shoes are ill-suited for the task, unlike Xiao’s grip-soled boots, and Xiao contemplates offering something for his lord to sit on to avoid sullying his clothes on the dusty rooftop—but he has nothing to offer anyway.

“I did not intend to startle you. I’m simply happy to see you enjoying the festival in Liyue Harbor,” Zhongli finishes, drawing his hands into his lap.

Xiao, half-way relaxed from his tense crouch, goes rigid again, and bows his head. “My apologies. I did not… it was not my intention to bring this karmic taint upon the harbor. I simply thought—this distant location…”

“Mm,” Zhongli hums, raising a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “You may be right, A’Xiao. This location is ill-suited for your presence, currently.”

Xiao’s heart sinks, even as his face heats at the diminutive Zhongli attaches to his name. It’s a little child-like—but so is he, having come to the harbor and endangered its inhabitants by staying for hours just to watch some lanterns. Right. He knows this, of course, but after the previous year—he should have known better than to let the Traveler and the floating pixie creature convince him to forget the reasons he stays away from the harbor’s crowds most of the time.

He nods once, and shoves off of the roof to stand—but Zhongli catches his wrist, prompting Xiao to freeze in place, staring back at his master.

“My lord?”

“Director Hu is actually the one who saw you on the roof,” Zhongli informs him, “and proceeded to use the information to tease one of her friends until he had to run off in search of something cooling. It is my understanding that he is an exorcist who seeks to perform the duties of purging Liyue’s demonic taint. Apparently you have met?”

Xiao keeps staring, not sure where this is going but unwilling to make the fact obvious. Yes, he’s met the exorcist boy. His techniques are unrefined, but his nature is powerful. His very presence is enough to affect Xiao himself, who is sufficiently perfused with demonic taint that such a strong source of yang energy twists at his insides. When they spoke, Xiao was more gruff than usual from the resulting pain, but did not say anything he didn’t mean.

Then again, that was before Liyue’s new contract with the Adepti.

“Since this location is unsuitable,” Zhongli continues, “why don’t you come down and join us? As delightful as Director Hu is, it will be nice to have someone over the age of sixteen to speak to.”

If it was anybody else asking—bar maybe the Traveler, though Xiao is still smarting over the false hope they’ve raised in him—Xiao would not hesitate to refuse immediately. But this is Zhongli. Despite his ostensible freedom from direct commands, Xiao’s gratitude and loyalty to his master mean that he has never been able to refuse him. It’s a fact that, Xiao has come to realize, Zhongli is acutely aware of. He takes pains to never ask anything of Xiao that he does not believe is either for the best of Liyue and Xiao himself, direly needed, or at the very least something Xiao might already be partial to.

Thus, Xiao assumes, there is… good reason, for Zhongli to ask this of him.

He lowers his gaze to the harbor below. It is boisterous by Xiao’s standards, filled with adults, children, and tourists alike, as well as the smells wafting from food cards and the bustle of typical festival activities. Despite the evening hour, everything is brightly lit, with lanterns strung everywhere. It’s part of what makes seeing Xiao’s current perch difficult—it’s unlit, and even now, he doubts that Hu Tao saw anything more than the reflective yellow flash of his eyes in the low light. The girl has always been supernaturally attuned to the presence of death, however—something she and Xiao have in common.

(That, and a rather morbid sense of humor. He would not… mind, speaking to Hu Tao.)

“Very well, master,” Xiao murmurs, and lets Zhongli lead him down.

Two minutes later, he is not quite regretting his choices.

“Oh, you did do it, Zhongli!” Hu Tao sings songs, grabbing Zhongli’s arm roughly enough that it yanks even at Xiao’s wrist on the other side. He doesn’t stumble, but he does shoot her a dark look, though Zhongli doesn’t look like he particularly minds or is unused to the rough handling. “Here, I guess I owe you, then!”

She releases Zhongli’s arm to drop a small pouch of mora into it, and Zhongli smiles sheepishly at Xiao, who tries not to let the sudden realization of his seclusion being the subject of a bet affect him. Mortals always gossip about the adepti—it is in their nature to behold and wonder that which is unreachable to them. For Zhongli to make such a jest of Xiao, however…

“Be at peace,” Zhongli murmurs, patting Xiao’s shoulder. “I simply needed funds with which to purchase some of the festival foods for us this evening. I, ah, am afraid that I forgot my wallet.”

“At this point, Mister Zhongli,” says a well-dressed young man that Xiao does not recognize, “I am surprised to hear that you possess mora at all.”

“Ah,” says Zhongli, with a knowing smile, “but isn’t bountiful knowledge invaluable in its own way?”

“No,” says the boy, entirely nonplussed.

“Only when I’m charging for a consultation,” adds Hu Tao.

Merely inside jokes. Xiao settles.

They are in a fairly secluded area of the harbor, though it is now much less so simply for the fact of their presence. There are still lanterns strung about, but most of the crowd is elsewhere, bar some other scattered groups of three-to-four people who are sitting and standing in clumps and eating their food or crafting lanterns.

Their own group is larger than most of the others. Besides himself, Zhongli, and Hu Tao, there are two boys: one, the young exorcist that Xiao recognizes, and the other, a stranger who is peering at Xiao with unbridled curiosity. Xiao narrows his eyes at that one, crossing his arms.

“Adeptus Xiao,” he introduces himself. Even now, pain frissons along the edges of his nerves, but—the exorcist averts his eyes and sticks a popsicle in his mouth, and the feeling fades. “That is my name.”

The exorcist jumps, and then brings his hands together to bow. “I am Chongyun. This is—“

“Xingqiu,” the other boy interrupts, stepping forward, and stretches a hand out like he’s approaching a business deal. “Of the Feiyun Commerce Guild!”

Xiao eyes Xingqiu’s hand and then, because Chongyun is in turn eyeing Xingqiu with something approaching growing panic, takes it. They shake once, a pleased and cat-like smile stretching across Xingqiu’s face, and Xiao stomps down the little bit of humor that rears its head at Chongyun’s expense.

Chongyun’s teeth crunch down on his ice.

Hu Tao has no such compunctions as Xiao, and snickers meanly as she shoves another popsicle into Chongyun’s hand. “Adeptus Xiao,” she says, “you are really something.”

Xiao does not find that worth responding to. Instead, he simply stays silent, and waits for them to get back to whatever it was they were doing before he arrived. He’s not here to participate, after all—

And they do, well enough. Chongyun flusters in response to Hu Tao’s teasing, and Xingqiu somehow manages to defend his friend while, clearly deliberately, worsening his distress. Zhongli merely chuckles along, chiming in only when Xingqiu says something utterly incorrect about Liyue’s spiritual history that he apparently read in a book of all things, to which Xingqiu and Chongyun listen with surprisingly rapt attention.

It seems practiced and comfortable. His master is clearly acclimating well to his life as a moral in Liyue Harbor.

Eventually, the kids break off. Zhongli hands his newly-acquired mora back off to Hu Tao, who promises to bring back treats instead of, as she claims would happen if Zhongli goes, one inordinately expensive but utterly useless item for Zhongli’s dragon hoard. She drags Xingqiu with her, proclaiming him her additional rich-boy wallet for the evening, and Xiao and Zhongli are left with Chongyun. Aside from his initial outburst, the boy has been almost as quiet as Xiao, so far, occupied with his popsicle and listening attentively to the chaotic back-and-forth between his friends.

“I know you have particular restrictions with what you eat, Xiao,” Zhongli tells Xiao, ushering them all to a small seating area with a convenient table, “but I implore you to at least try some of the festival foods. I asked Director Hu to bring options that I think you may enjoy.”

Xiao nods wordlessly, and accidentally catches Chongyun’s curious eye as the exorcist pops his ice lolly out of his mouth.

“You have eating restrictions?” he asks, eyes wide.

Xiao blinks slowly, and his gaze instinctively flicks over to Zhongli for a moment. His lord is… staring back, fond crinkles in the corners of his eyes, the way he used to look when Xiao was freshly released from his old master and halfway feral, making first contact with the Goddess of Dust. He’s missing the poised spear, at least, so a lot of the intimidation factor is gone. In fact, most of what’s left is terribly close to sentimental human emotion.

Xiao decides that it is politer to meet Chongyun’s eye contact instead, but obliges his master’s unspoken request to actually make an attempt at engaging. “Not… exactly. Adepti do not have need of mortal foods. While some—like Cloud Retainer—find joy in the art of cooking, I find it both tedious and time-consuming. There is a chef at the Wangshu Inn, however… I can stomach some of the dishes he makes. Salads and other flora are common choices among the adepti. And Almond Tofu, especially, reminds me of…”

Xiao trails off, unused to speaking so extensively, but Chongyun hasn’t seemed put off yet. He stares at Xiao expectantly, and a momentary flicker of Xiao’s gaze to Zhongli nets him the same exact response from his lord.

“I am a dream-eater,” he settles on, mouth twisting at the rasping sound of his own voice. “Almond Tofu is of a similar texture and mild sweetness to dreams. So no, I do not have eating restrictions like you do.”

Chongyun winces, and averts his eyes. “Ah—of course.”

Xiao frowns. “What is it?”

“Nothing!” Chongyun says, flushing. “It’s nothing, I just need another popsicle—“

“I suspect,” Zhongli interrupts, “that the young exorcist is embarrassed by your dismissive words.”

Chongyun chokes. Xiao’s frown deepens. “Dismissive?”

“It’s really nothing,” Chongyun denies, shoulders sinking into himself. “I have great respect for the Conqueror of Demons, and while I cannot accept his judgment on the capabilities of exorcism, I must acknowledge the differences between the nature of mortals and adepti.”

“What?” Xiao asks, now even more confused. “If you have an issue, stop wasting time and speak your intent clearly.”

“I just wish you’d have more respect for mortals,” Chongyun blurts, and Xiao reels back as a miasma of yang energy washes over him, stinging and chewing at something intangible inside him like he’s a demon to be banished. He grits his teeth against the swell, and resists the urge to summon his spear.

Where did that even come from? They were talking about Xiao’s food preferences, not—whatever this is. Even Zhongli had chastised him for being dismissive, but mulling his words from the preceding conversation over in his mind, Xiao still doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Even if he were to apologize, he doesn’t know what to apologize for—and the idea of doing so chafes. He did not intend to be dismissive or disrespectful, and he’s certainly not going to genuflect to an oversensitive mortal child.

Still, his presence is causing strife, and he’s clearly not capable of holding a casual conversation without ruining his master and the mortals’ peace. Xiao stands, nodding to Zhongli and then Chongyun, and turns to leave—

And once again finds his wrist caught by Zhongli.

“Stay,” Zhongli says, quiet.

Xiao sits obediently, dragging his eyes to the side. The overwhelmingly positive energy surrounding them gnaws on his bones a little more, but already has started to fade. Whatever is wrong with Chongyun, he has a good grip on it. “I don’t understand. My presence is unwelcome and clearly causing problems.”

“No!” Chongyun exclaims, pressing a fist into his palm to bow again. “I’m sorry, Adeptus Xiao! I should not have let my feelings get in the way of rational discourse! You don’t need to leave.”

Xiao, once again, does not know how to respond. He doesn’t look at Zhongli this time, because he’s not an infant, and instead takes a slow breath as the twisting misery releases its hold on his muscles and joints.

“... The contract the adepti have with Liyue has been changed,” he says to Chongyun eventually. “You humans have successfully defended Liyue Harbor for over a year, and the only demons I have been required to slay are the grudges that cling to me directly. Whether I personally hold your arts in high esteem or not is immaterial.”

Chongyun stares at him, wide-eyed. “Oh… right! No, you’re right. Um. Thank you, Adeptus Xiao.”

Xiao just cuts his gaze to the side, shrugging. He hasn’t said nor done anything worth thanks, and wouldn’t seek any even if he had.

“Where’s the food?” he asks instead.

“Just about arriving, it looks like,” Zhongli intones, almost surprising Xiao again. He interacts with mortals so rarely—the conflict took up enough of his attention that he’d nearly sublimated his awareness of Zhongli’s presence again. The susurration of violent and carnal whispers that eternally taunts Xiao is always more at rest when Rex Lapis is nearby, even if he is no longer an archon. Fear will do that to any creature, even one that is arguably beyond Zhongli’s reach.

Actually, the whispers are very quiet now. Once the pain of Chongyun’s yang energy fades, Xiao realizes that so have the demons that usually haunt him. It’s… an effect more potent than the medication Zhongli makes for Xiao, and even retains the more psychological effects.

Huh. The boy is a walking antidepressant. Xiao wonders what kind of effect that has on Chongyun himself.

A plate clacks on the wooden table in front of him.

“Lantern Rite Special Come and Get It!” Hu Tao declares. “There’s so much stuff in there that everyone’s got to like something—and here’s the cold Mountain Delicacies for you, Chongyun, unless you want to wait for everything else to cool off. Xingqiu already wanted everything super bland anyways.”

“A refined palate is a discerning one, Director Hu, though I’m sure you find such culinary understanding beyond your capabilities.”

“Ah, thank you… and I’m sorry about Xingqiu.”

“Don’t apologize for him, Chongyun, that’s worthless to me.”

And all of a sudden, Xiao is surrounded by food and chatter and people, sitting in the heart of Liyue Harbor without a twinge of pain to speak of. The feeling is indescribably light. He has never written a wish upon a xiao lantern—it would be ridiculous, praying to the adepti when he is one himself—but he suddenly feels about as buoyant as one.

His chopsticks tremble for a moment when he reaches for his food. A gloved hand alights over his, and Xiao looks up to meet his master’s eyes.

There’s a knowing sparkle in them. “I find,” Zhongli says, “that the best meals are those that are shared with good company. This is better than watching the lantern rite alone on the rooftops, wouldn’t you agree, my friend?”

Xiao blinks. The three kids grow quiet, staring curiously at the familiar way that a mere funeral parlor consultant dares touch an adeptus.

“Hm,” Xiao says, and snags a shrimp from his bowl to drop it into Zhongli’s conspicuously seafood-free one. “Here. A blessing from the adepti for you upon this auspicious time of year, Master Zhongli. Consider it shared.”

The corner of Xiao’s mouth threatens to twitch up as he feigns innocence and turns back to his own food. Hu Tao doesn’t even last the second that Zhongli manages to school his expression before cracking up. Chongyun looks only marginally less horrified than he did earlier, and Xingqiu’s night has quite possibly been made entirely based on the sheer, unadulterated glee that he fails to hide politely behind his sleeve.

As for Xiao—he thinks that if he were the sort of person who could wish on a lantern, he wouldn’t really be able to come up with anything to write right now, anyways.

“Xiao,” Zhongli mourns quietly. “I can appreciate the spirit of your generosity, but you’ve ruined the entire soup.”

Well. Perhaps a group of companions for the evening that consists of less picky eaters.

Notes:

There is going to be, like, one person who gets this title. Please know that I love you.

Honestly just a light-hearted fic for me to wish Xiao a happy Lantern Rite! I think Zhongli probably wants his adepti to reach for freedom, too, and I enjoy thinking about how Chongyun's yang energy must interact with Xiao's karma. The antidepressant line is a reference to some interesting meta I've read about the translation difficulties regarding the painkillers that Zhongli has delivered to Xiao, and how they're also a sort of spiritual antidepressants, too. I suspect they got translated to 'painkillers' because Xiao's spiritual stress manifests as literal pain in the form of his karmic binds.

Anyways, happy lunar new year!!! <3

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