Chapter Text
In the aftermath of the fight against the re-released Osial, Zhongli sends dreams to the Qixing and his adepti, assuring them that he is alive and simply retired. He is no natural dream walker, but a simple feat like this he can manage easily enough.
Cloud Retainer squawks indignantly and puffs out her feathers as she flaps her wings intimidatingly at him. “Even if it is Rex Lapis, one cannot easily forgive this transgression! One had been ready to raze the city to the ground for you!”
“I would have stopped you if the others had not,” Zhongli assures her.
“And we would have been able to avoid it all together if you had simply told us first!” With that she stalks off and begins muttering under her breath. He catches snippets of it – probably deliberate on her part, as she paces the dreamscape rather than simply fly off or wake up. First, the expected and well-deserved complaints: ‘thousands of years of friendship’, ‘not even a warning’, ‘all the trust built in a thousand years of war’ and ‘the most vicious of betrayals’. Then, the threats: ‘keep one’s precious osmanthus to oneself’, ‘never make another offering’, ‘fake one's own death and see how he likes that’ and ‘offer nothing but fish and octopus for a thousand years’. Then, finally: ‘Conqueror of Demons’, ‘dreams’, and ‘reprehensible violation of the most sacred contract’.
The last one, he knows for sure, is entirely deliberate. Especially with the way she catches his eye while he pales.
Elegantly, she stalks towards him on her long crane legs, never breaking eye contact. “One expects one’s materials to be delivered by the end of the week.”
Then she promptly kicks him out of her dream.
In truth, there is no reason for Xiao to deserve treatment different from the other adepti, except that he simply does.
To begin with, he is one of the few – the only one remaining – full-blooded adeptus who has ever been a human child. And, oh, what a child he made. Unable to grow up, unable to shift, unable to put down the bloodied weapon in his hand to allow himself to be healed. The child warrior had triggered every other adeptus’s parental instinct – and make no mistake, they have a lot of those. He would never allow himself to be looked after, but that did not stop the adepti, not with the stubborn resolution deep-rooted in every one of them. (“One does not attain adeptus-hood by giving up,” Cloud Retainer had declared loftily, when Xiao had finally snapped at them, just that once.)
Zhongli does not fear the adepti. But if he did, a sure way to incur their wrath is to hurt Xiao, especially with the hold he has over his heart. He does not have to fear the adepti to wish very much to avoid their fury. (Birds, especially, can be very, very petty. That Xiao himself was hatched from a bird’s egg only makes the birds’ protectiveness all the more fearsome.)
Though, even taking the other adepti out of the equation, Zhongli’s current position is a difficult one, albeit one he had put himself in. Then again, it is not entirely his fault.
Morax has never been a god who asks for reverence and deference – at the very least, not from the adepti – but even he can hardly remain unmoved in the face of such devotion. He does not deny that he has idly entertained thoughts along the lines of ‘What would it take to lose his trust?’ but the truth of the matter is that faith this unwavering is… something Zhongli is unwilling to shatter, and so it sits heavy on his shoulders, not unlike a duty one cannot set down.
The demons do not rest, and so neither does Xiao. The demons will not go easy on him, so he can never let his guard down. The nightmares he eats have accumulated into a tower deeper than Osial’s bed and higher than Cloud Retainer’s floating pavilion above Qingyun Peak, so he does not sleep. For more than two thousand years, he has not paused in his unending battle against old gods and demons – his battle for the people’s safety. His battle for Morax. And this is how Zhongli repays him: by faking his death to test the adepti and people of Liyue.
In truth, this problem had occurred to him in the earliest stages of his plan. Then, he had simply avoided thinking about it for the sake of his conscience. He has procrastinated enough now, and there is literally no excuse for dragging this on any longer.
Herein lies the problem: Xiao does not sleep, and so Zhongli cannot simply visit him in his dreams. (Which is just as well, because frankly, Zhongli does not want to know what he will find in the dream-eater’s undoubtedly nightmare-filled dreamscape.)
Zhongli considers having a nightmare and catching Xiao when he comes to eat it, but he knows Xiao does not eat all the nightmares of Liyue Harbour, only those in Qingce Village, Wangshu Inn, and the particularly loud ones of the city. So then for his plan to work he would have to have a terrible nightmare – aside from not wanting to put himself through that, the greatest problem with this plan is that Xiao would witness him having nightmares like a mortal.
It is not a matter of pride for Zhongli – nightmares are perfectly normal even for gods, especially for gods – nor does he worry that Xiao would think any less of him for it. (After all, Xiao was the one who had seen the last of Guizhong’s nightmares, once upon a time.) It is merely that he does not wish to subject Xiao to his imperfection.
A fair alternative is to go to Qingce Village or Wangshu Inn and have a mild nightmare there, but if he is going to Wangshu Inn then there is no excuse not to meet Xiao in person – assuming he would consent to show himself at all.
And so here he is, with a box of chilled handmade almond tofu in his hands, leaning against the balustrade of the balcony with the rockery. Alone, and yet not. Zhongli is no fool; he knows what is going on here. Xiao is giving him a way out without confrontation. What better excuse to leave quietly than the host not being home? He has seen Zhongli now, and so Zhongli’s message is delivered. There is no need for them to speak.
Except there is. So he sighs. “Xiao, I know you are here.”
Whatever he might be feeling or thinking, he answers his summons as faithfully as ever, materialising a respectful distance away.
“Zhongli-daren.” Ah, that tone. The flawless politeness of his words and tone, and the perfect, frigid, indifference in his expression. This brings Zhongli back to their time in Guili Plains, when they had been strangers. Maybe they are strangers again now, though nothing else is quite the same; the world is far more peaceful, his hands have nearly grown smooth, and the people no longer require their relentless protection.
Even the moon is not quite the same.
Xiao has grown up since then, too, and not only in stature. Since some years before he had entered Liyue Harbour as Zhongli, Xiao has not fallen – neither to the darkness nor to any more corporeal enemy. From what the adepti have observed on the rare occasion he deigns to grace them with his presence, there has also been something subtly different in the way he carries himself. Zhongli suspects he has on occasion even consumed the painkillers he provides.
(And Zhongli realises that, maybe, he no longer has to protect Xiao from him and himself.)
He does not say, ‘I am alive’ or anything to that effect, because he does not want to test Xiao’s patience. Instead, he says, “I have finally retired. Will you join us?” The other adepti have long been in the state of semi-retirement. Only the young ones work nowadays. And, as much as Xiao may look it, he is not a young one.
(Neither is Ganyu, for that matter, but recent events have proven that the Qixing is not quite ready to part with her just yet, and Zhongli doubts she would entertain the idea of leaving her post besides. Ganyu as well is far, far too dedicated to her post and Morax himself. Seeing her in mourning had stirred up in him more guilt than he had been aware possible, for all that he had been anticipating it.)
“I will always respond to your call,” he says instead, completely unrelated to the topic at hand.
Except not really. It means he will continue to be vigilant, to watch over the people of Liyue Harbour – which incidentally includes Zhongli now – and that he does not hold any grudges against Zhongli for the deception – or at least, so he says. Then again, Zhongli had not expected Xiao to admit to holding a grudge, which is precisely the problem.
“You do not have to forgive me,” Zhongli tells him patiently.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he says, as distant as before.
Of course he would think so. Zhongli sighs and tells him firmly, “I have wronged you,” and regrets it immediately because he knows exactly what kind of knee-jerk reaction this will incite in Xiao.
“Very well,” he says, simply accepting Morax’s word as law. “I forgive you.”
(Not for the first time, he wishes Guizhong were here. At least she could get across to Xiao on occasion.) He offers the box to Xiao and urges him to eat it now. With his mouth occupied he would not be able to stop Zhongli’s apology. “I should not have tested you the way I did. I should not have deceived you.” And his stone heart chills at the recognition that yes, he had indeed deceived Xiao. A reptile does not have to lie to fool you, Xiao’s voice rings clear in his mind as though spoken just a moment ago. If Zhongli had not such impeccable memory he might not even realise the extent to which he had wronged him. “I apologise for that, truly.”
A loud gust of wind blows away his apology. When Xiao has swallowed the almond tofu in his mouth, he says, “I disagree.” Zhongli would almost be proud if the topic was anything else. “I would not believe for a second that you were murdered. Was this your reason for taking up a job at the funeral parlour?”
Ah. Zhongli had not anticipated this. “Whether I had succeeded or not, the intent was there.”
“I understand,” he says, and Zhongli thinks that while he probably understands deception more than anyone else, his point definitely eludes him still. “Whether you had succeeded or not, I am no different from the other adepti. You believe the test is necessary, and I believe you.” His eyes are gentle when he places the box containing half the almond tofu in Zhongli’s hands. “You did not apologise to Cloud Retainer and the others.”
And then he is gone.
Zhongli gets a room at Wangshu Inn and thinks long and hard about what Xiao had meant with that last sentence.
This rift between them… Zhongli admits that a large part of it is his inability to communicate with someone he perceives as delicate but is far, far too resilient for his own good. A larger part still he attributes to Xiao’s refusal to speak plainly. He can if he wishes to, in much the same way he can sing and write poetry (According to Barbatos, an affinity with Anemo brings with it a propensity for poetry. Who would know better than him?) but does not.
Did he see Cloud Retainer’s dream? He must have. And the others’, too, and they must all have known. Rather than feeling any amount of annoyance, the other adepti conspiring against him only amuses Zhongli.
Does he think they deserve apologies as well? He did apologise, just not in so many words. They would not hear an apology from Rex Lapis, so he would not force them to. For his purpose the gifts are enough to express his sincerity.
So Zhongli concludes it is not the lack of apology to the others, but rather the apology Zhongli had offered him that had caused offence. That would also explain the returned almond tofu.
He had wondered about that, too. It is not uncommon for adepti to share the offerings with one another, though Xiao has always kept his almond tofu to himself. (No one would think of taking it from him, not when he gives everything else away, not when it is the only thing he enjoys aside from fighting for others’ sake.) It is uncommon to return a gift to a sender, but this particular instance can be likened to bringing a bottle of osmanthus wine to a gathering and sharing it. The almond tofu was good, of course; Zhongli had made it himself. But he doubts that is Xiao’s reason for sharing it.
So Zhongli takes it to mean that he would accept the tofu or an apology, and not both. Fair enough.
He carefully does not dream that night.
When Xiao comes back, Zhongli picks up a bowl of almond tofu from the inn’s chef and goes back to the roof. He offers it to Xiao, careful not to apologise for the previous night.
He is especially careful with the words he does speak. “We all wish, for your sake, that you would rest. With the end of Rex Lapis, most of his contracts were dissolved. You are free, Xiao.”
An eagle is not meant to be flightless. The adepti are not meant to be forever. The hatred of a thousand gods is not meant for is not meant for a single yaksha to bear.
Zhongli had always meant for Xiao to be free.
Xiao looks at him uncomprehendingly, “Have I not always been?” Then he shakes his head to himself, “Karma and the old gods may bind me, but this is the path I have chosen.”
“Free from your duties to Liyue,” Zhongli emphasises, because he does not know where else to start.
“Here on the rooftop of Wangshu Inn, a finch may expect to live up to three years,” Xiao says instead. “If I gave them to captivity, they would live to fifteen.” He finishes the dessert, and does not look at Zhongli when he says, “You need not wait for me to return.”
A gentle breeze carries Xiao away.