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“Lady Ningguang—” Baiwen hesitates in the doorway. “Are you certain you don’t need anything?”
Ningguang lowers the paper in her hand. “I’m all right, thank you,” she says, hoping the lightness in her voice doesn’t sound nearly as false to her secretary’s ears as it does to her own. “Is there a particular reason for your inquisition?”
Baiwen’s eyes flick towards the note Ningguang is still holding. “None at all.” Her voice is just as calm as ever; Ningguang feels a brief surge of pride in herself for having selected such an excellent secretary, and then an even briefer stab of relief when Baiwen nods and turns to leave.
The paper in her hand is an ordinary sheet of parchment, and yet, Ningguang wouldn’t be surprised to find it was enchanted by some Pyro vision user because her eyes burn as she turns her gaze back to scan the small, hastily-inked passage of text.
Gone to Inazuma to see how the Resistance Army is faring. If I’m not back in ten days, the Vision Hunt Decree got the best of me. Keep the bed warm ;) – B
The note had been delivered to the Jade Chamber not five minutes ago. Baiwen had apologized as she handed it over– the messenger charged with delivering it had fallen ill two weeks ago, and he had only just recovered.
“He begs the Tianquan’s pardon,” Baiwen had told her, and Ningguang had to remind herself to breathe. Two weeks. The note was delivered four days after the deadline that Captain Beidou of the Crux fleet had promised to return by, and there was still no sign of her ship at the Liyue docks.
Ningguang rises and paces towards her bulletin board. She feels restless, strangely jittery, an unusual feeling for her, especially in her own chamber of solitude. Beidou always hated the Jade Chamber — “as far as you can get from the ocean, huh?” — but Ningguang finds solace in the empty blue of the sky surrounding her.
Captain Beidou. Ningguang can feel her Vision surging at her fingertips, and she forces herself to relax, reaching for her pipe if only to have something to do with her hands. Captain Beidou is an unbelievable idiot for traveling to Inazuma at a time like this. Captain Beidou is behaving absolutely inappropriately by sending such an incompetent messenger and such an offensively informal note. Beidou might be dead now, bleeding out around Kujou Sara’s electric-tipped arrows, and Ningguang has no way of knowing whether or not she is in danger, whether or not she is in agony or is all alone, whether or not she will ever come back to greet Ningguang in the center of Liyue, swaggering through the streets like she’s the Geo Archon.
“You miss me?” she’d say, that cocky smile firmly in place, her hands on her hips like she’s waiting for Ningguang to throw herself at her feet. Her hair is always stiff with salt after a wild time at sea, and the surge of memory is so strong and sudden that Ningguang sinks back down behind her desk as she remembers the way Beidou’s hand curled around hers, the way she brought it up to press against her lips the last time they saw each other. Ningguang’s cheeks burn at the memory of Beidou’s insolence. The back of her hand burns too, with the memory of that feather-light kiss.
Of course, the loss of Captain Beidou would be a devastating blow to the Liyue government – Ningguang has a right to be concerned. Of course. She is a valuable asset to their naval power. Ningguang takes a deep breath, holds it for a long moment, and then lets it out. Beidou is, in all likelihood, fine. She can take care of herself. Ningguang has seen the look in her eye when she hefts her broadsword, and there isn’t a Vision-wielder in Teyvat who would want to be on the other side of her blade. But then again, Ningguang thinks of the scars that trace shiny pink lines across Beidou’s skin. Beidou is so foolish sometimes, Ningguang is truly surprised she has managed to make it this far without losing one or more of her limbs.
Ningguang can’t stay seated. She gets to her feet and forces her wild thoughts back into their usual order. She will send messengers and call in favors. She will handle this like the Tianquan would handle the loss of any business asset – professionally.
“Lady Ningguang!” Baishi is at the door, breathing hard, as though she had been running. Ningguang stares. The last time she saw anyone running through the halls of the Jade Chamber, Liyue was being attacked by the Osial. “You– you have a visitor—”
“I can introduce myself,” says a voice from the hall, and then Beidou, grinning, gorgeous and sea-kissed and alive , is standing in front of Ningguang.
“Please,” Baishi begins weakly, “The Tianquan is a very busy woman—” and Ningguang doesn’t register anything after that because her heart is beating so loudly in her ears that she can’t hear anything else.
“Beidou,” she says, or maybe she thinks it, and her hand is on Beidou’s cheek. It surprises her just as much as it surprises the sea captain; Ningguang can see a flash of astonishment in Beidou’s eyes for half a moment before her expression returns to its familiar insolence.
“My my. You must have been terribly lonely without me.” Her own hand rises up to cup Ningguang’s, and she isn’t dead, she isn’t hurt, she isn’t bleeding out in Inazuma, she’s alive and right here in front of Ningguang.
“Archons,” Ningguang breathes. “If you ever do anything like that again, I will feed you to Beisht myself.”
Beidou’s smile has gone from a smirk to a full-out grin. “Did my second note not reach you in time?”
Ningguang’s hands are in Beidou’s hair, which is still damp from the sea spray. “Your first note barely arrived before you did.”
“Sorry to startle you.” Beidou wraps her arms around Ningguang’s waist, and Ningguang lets her. Baishi has wisely left the two of them alone, hurrying out of the doorway with her lips pursed, and the Jade Chamber is the one place where they can be assured of absolute privacy. “Can I make it up to you?”
“Perhaps.” Ningguang draws Beidou closer, pressing her mouth against the curve of her ear. “I was preparing to search for a new naval captain. I expect compensation.”
Beidou’s laugh vibrates through Ningguang, warming her from head to toe. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”