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Morax is no stranger to the burdens of an immortal. He's seen the days pass like the rain falls down to Teyvat. Just like so, it disappears without a trace of it's existence, only a memory to reference by.
The history that builds up is precious, although there's only so much one can remember over thousands of years of existence.
He feels it more on the days when he visits Guili Plains, especially. The days long forgotten of an assembly of humans that once lived there. Once thrived there. It pains him to forget, and it pains him more to know that once he, too, passes on, the true history of the Guili Assembly will be forgotten—perhaps save for the stone tablets that were left behind by the people.
He looks on further, and is comforted by the sight of a historian writing notes just outside, if only just a small amount.
On the days he visits Sal Terrae, he thinks of the goddess below his feet, the petrified followers that sacrificed themselves and their history to save their goddess. It's a shame that such truths would never reach the surface, though he is grateful, at least, that the traveller knows the truth; though it's only a matter of time before those memories fade away too.
Zhongli knows the tribulations of an immortal. But he himself is a mortal. He knows his existence is inconsequential. He is but another face that will disappear and remain forgotten in a thousand years.