Chapter Text
The board game known widely as Xiangqi has survived longer than some of the Gods. Recordings of similar games to the modern-day playstyle appear in Liyue texts as old as three thousand years. The premise is simple. There are two armies, one red and one black, who are locked in battle. Each soldier is represented by a piece, the most important, of course, being the general. Should the general fall, it is a loss for that player.
When Zhongli saw that head of red hair, so different from every other proud crown in Liyue, his first thought was those similarly colored game pieces. He moved methodically, following an invisible straight line through Liyue Harbor. Zhongli watched him curiously, noting the way every movement was planned, meticulous, without room for error. Images of his many years playing the game came up, where the pieces moved in such a similar fashion. With conviction. With confidence.
He and Signora had a contract. Within that contract was permission to do as he needed with any member of the Fatui, so long as it would find the gnosis in her hands when all was said and done. Zhongli instantly recognized the red-headed man as the axle on which everything would rotate. Call it divine intuition.
When his attention finally caught on one of the stands selling Qingxin scented perfume, he stopped for a moment. That’s when Zhnogli made his move.
“Are you interested in perfumes?”
The red-head feigned surprise. Had he noticed Zhongli watching him, even from down the street? “Moreso the bottle,” he said, motioning towards the small, yellow tinted vial. “This is Cor Lapis, isn’t it?”
Zhongli raised an eyebrow. “It appears to be. I’m surprised, you are not only proficient in our language but also our minerals.”
“I wouldn’t call myself proficient. Merely…versed.”
“Well-versed. However, not yet quite an expert.” Zhongli reached out to take the vial from the stand. He held it up to the sun, watching the light filter through it. “It appears to be Cor Lapis, this is true. However, a quick examination proves this belief false. It’s dyed glass. One can tell because of the lack of prisms. If this bottle were hollowed Cor Lapis, we would be watching rainbows dance on the street by now.” Back into place it went. “A knockoff. Worth no more than the watered down oil inside.”
“It would seem I still have much to learn, then.” He glanced at Zhongli. “I will ask you to give me credit where it’s due though, sir. You have to admit, my knowledge reaches beyond that of the majority like me.”
“Indeed it does, and I praise you for it.” Zhongli took a cautious step closer. “It’s not every day someone from Snezhnaya finds their way to our humble harbor.”
The man laughed a bit, shifting on his feet. “You saw I was a foreigner right away, didn’t you? Darn, I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb, but I hoped that changing my clothes would help me blend in at least a little.”
Zhongli looked him up and down. “From one Snezhnaya outfit to another?”
“Hey, this one is more dull, at least.” The man pulled at his shirt with a slight pout. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name, sir.”
“Zhongli.” He held out his hand for a handshake, which was met with an iron grip. “And you?”
“Call me Childe.” Obviously an alias. Not that Zhongli could look too far down on that. “Mr. Zhongli, it’s a pleasure. You give off the air of a very wise man, I can tell you know a lot about Liyue.” Zhongli nodded in response. “Let me try to trip you up, then.” Childe shot Zhongli a mischievous glance. He looked around, finally pointing out to the docks. “There, that boat. The one with the tallest mast. What is it called?”
Zhongli raised an eyebrow. “Truly, this is your attempt at making me slip? Everyone in Liyue knows that as the Wanjiao. It’s a merchant ship, the greatest of its kind, used for transporting only the most precious of cargo. It is also equipped with top grade military gear, as its status makes it a target for young, foolish pirates.”
“And which ship did it replace?”
“...Ah.” A smile crossed Zhongli’s face. “Now this is a more worthy test of knowledge. The Nanhai was another merchant ship, likewise used for the same purpose. The only difference is this ship sailed approximately 400 years prior to the one you see before you. It vanished on a voyage back from Inazuma and has yet to be rediscovered. It is said to have been carrying a ridiculous amount of Mora in its cargo. It used to be rumored that if you go to the Guyun Stone Forest off the coast of Liyue, you’ll find bits of Mora washed up on the shore. These are said to be the only remains of that wreckage. Although, I must admit, very few are saying such things nowadays.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it,” Childe began as he picked up the same yellow bottle, apparently not yet ready to accept it as an overpriced fake, “that even some 400 years later, that same Mora still finds its way to the shore? It’s like a long dead voice begging, ‘don’t forget about me.’”
Zhongli crossed his arms over his chest, turning to stare out at the boats coming in and leaving from the harbor. “Humans…that is to say, we,” he quickly caught himself, “spend much of our time wondering how to best preserve our legacy without realizing that the world will do so naturally. The Nanhai is remembered because the Wanjiao sails. And when the Wanjiao sinks, as all ships someday will, a new merchant ship will be made, bigger and better than the last. Yet this does not erase the Wanjiao from history. There were once people who admired the red sails fluttering in the wind. When those admirers turn to dust, where do their feelings find rest? Their bodies become soil, which gathers into rock over time. Every memory that has ever been is encased in stone and builds the ground on which the next generation walks.”
A silence settled over the two men. Even surrounded by the deafening sounds of the bustling harbor, they existed for just a moment in a comfortable quiet.
Childe was the one to break it with a light chuckle. “The way you talk is strange. I like it.” He held up the yellow bottle to the light just as Zhongli had done. “So in your eyes, nothing is ever really lost, is it?”
“Not in the sense that many people believe it to be.”
“I see. What a wonderful way to live.”
“You’re looking at the perfume even though the bottle is mere glass. Why is that?”
“Well, like you said, Mr. Zhongli, humans turn to dust in the end. And what is glass but tempered dust?” Childe reached into his pocket, pulling out a shocking amount of Mora. Zhongli couldn’t help but stare. “You’ve really put things into perspective for me. On second thought, I really think glass might be more valuable than any precious mineral.” After paying, Childe squinted into the glass, through the perfume. “It’s not making rainbows, sure, but I feel like when I squint I can see the remains of someone’s life. Their joy, their sorrow, their last moments…I don’t normally care for such sentimental notions. But hearing you speak makes it easy to find value in unvalued things . Besides, maybe I’ll enjoy wearing the scent.”
As Childe opened the bottle, the delicate smell of Qingxin wafted through the air. Zhongli couldn’t help but lean a bit closer to the old, familiar scent.
“Amazing,” Childe said with a sigh. “Nothing in Snezhnaya smells like this.”
“It’s more suited to a young girl,” Zhongli remarked calmly, eyes watching carefully as Childe poured just a drop onto his wrist and brought it up to his neck, where he patted the scent into his skin. “But I suppose a young man could wear it as well.”
“Hey now, that’s the spirit.” Childe chuckled, leaning against the perfume stand, much to the owner's displeasure. “Now that I’m all dolled up and ready for a night on the town, what say you ask me out?”
Zhongli tilted his head. “Ask you out?”
“Yeah, why not? I think you’re an interesting man. Worth my time. Let’s grab a meal together to commemorate our meeting on this day.”
Zhongli was instantly suspicious. Surely there was some motive behind this proposal. But somewhere along the way, Childe had lost his calculated nature. His shoulders had relaxed, his smile gone from plastered perfection to naturally lazy. In Childe’s mind, Zhongli was an independent party from the Fatui’s business in Liyue. He was a break from the turmoil of their schemes and a prospect friend, the likes of which would not interfere with his business.
Zhongli’s mouth twitched at this realization. Barely into the first half of the game and a check had already been delivered in Zhongli’s favor. “A meal sounds wonderful.”
“What? Really?” Childe laughed. “I didn’t think you’d really agree. I was half-joking.”
“Are you backing out?”
“No, sir.” He stood straight, beaming now. “It’s a date. Since you’re the expert on Liyue, tell me, is there anything in the area you’d recommend?”
“That depends what you’re in the mood for.”
“Spicy. Anything that’ll knock the breath out of me. I’m so sick of Snezhnaya’s bland cuisine, it’s maddening.”
“Spicy? Well, look no further than Wanmin Restaurant. The chef there is a young girl, yet has quite renown surrounding her. Some of her concoctions are strange things, using monster parts or other such…delicacies.” Zhongli coughed at that part and began the short walk to the restaurant. “Order off the menu, though, and her superior will make sure there’s no slime in your dish.”
Childe followed alongside Zhongli, no longer quite as stiff as he had been at first. “Wanmin, you say? I’ve heard of it. Truth be told, I thought the stories I’ve heard of that chef were exaggerated. She really puts slime in her dishes? Does it ever taste not like slime?”
“On rare occasions,” Zhongli said with a chuckle. In the restaurant, over a plate of food that was much, much, much too hot for Childe’s sensitive tongue (nevertheless, he ate every last bite), Zhongli moved the Xiangqi pieces in his mind, already planning his next move towards checkmate.
If he could capture Childe’s general with this degree of ease, then everything else in the contract would fall into place right as it needed to. Childe, on the other hand, had no clue that he was even playing the game.