Work Text:
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.
Zhongli arrives in the Guili Plains at dusk. He sits by the stream and listens to the water lapping against the rocks, the slight breeze rustling the weeds.
Stragglers from the Millelith pass by him. As they approach, Zhongli hears chatter about their expectations of what they might find on the banks of the Bishui River—a vengeful spirit, blood staining her indigo robes, a tarnished sword at her hip. Otherwise, a vigilante, only meaning to keep the peace in this deserted land for herself, in which case she would be given a strong reprimanding for taking things too far.
The sun sets and night slowly fills in the sky. The passersby dwindle down, leaving him with nothing but silence. No one’s come by the same spot twice to notice that Zhongli had been sitting in the same place by the banks of the river the whole time, immovable as stone.
***
He finds her on Mt. Tianheng, a glaze lily in her hand and the hems of her sleeves sweeping over the ground. When the wind stilled, the tinkling of pickaxes working the mines could be faintly heard, brought up the mountain through fervent wishes of prosperity.
“I’ve been working on a new design,” Guizhong tells him as an invitation to sit and watch the clouds with her.
“Tell me,” he says as he lowers himself down to her.
“What do you think of this vantage point, Zhongli?” With the flower remaining caught between her fingers, she shows the vast area over which Mt. Tianheng stands. “To the north, a body of water. From the west, mountains.”
Zhongli hums in appreciation. “An excellent view,” he says as he plucks the glaze lily away from her and places it on top of her ear. “What about it?”
“We must create something here to protect us. I found something that could help,” Guizhong says. From her sleeve she takes out a chaos core and hands it over to Zhongli, who turns it over in his hands. The core is held together by a frame and carvings mark the surface of the metal, faint lines in its eerie gleam. “That is the core of a ruin guard,” she goes on to explain. “I’ve been trying to learn how they are able to automatically detect trespassers and fire at them.”
“I see. You plan to make something similar.”
She smiles at him. “Yes. I will build it here to protect our people.”
Zhongli frowns at that and asks, “Why? We have the yakshas.” And she has him, but he leaves that to linger.
“We can’t be everywhere at once,” she argues. “This is merely an added step towards peace.” She laughs at Zhongli’s huff, the sound of it washing over him like a gentle tide lapping against the shore. “My dear Zhongli, I don’t mean to insult your martial prowess.”
“You are mocking me.”
“I only wish to help.”
He returns the chaos core to her and acquiesces. “Very well. What do you require?”
Her eyes glimmer in the now setting sun as she says, “Shall we go for a walk at the foot of the mountain? I’ll show you there.”
***
Their first meeting went like this:
He met her in a field of glaze lilies at the break of dawn as the rush of water slowly built up with the wind. The petals of the flowers began to curl in on themselves, closing into tight buds. The God of Dust mourned the fleeting memory of their bloom, treading lightly on her feet to not disturb the grass underfoot. Then, she stopped in front of the Lord of Geo and introduced herself as Guizhong.
“We finally meet, Lord of Geo,” she said. Her words carried the scent of the flowers.
“Please, call me Zhongli,” he told her.
“Zhongli,” she echoed to try it out. “I come with a gift.”
“A gift?” he asked while she brought forth the gift from her sleeve. “I’m grateful though I regret that I haven't prepared one for you.” When he saw that the gift was a dumbbell made of stone, he tried to hide his confusion but faltered, unable to find the words to thank her.
The dumbbell emanated light, casting her face in a bright glow. She explained, “It is my pledge to you, as I place my people under our care. Inside this dumbbell is all my wisdom, accumulated from the short life I’ve lived thus far.”
“Do I open it?” Zhongli asked as he eyed the dumbbell, taking it into his hands to feel its weight. He then tried to pry it open, the dumbbell resisting all force put upon it.
“That is my challenge to you.”
“You would challenge me?”
She clasped her hands together, unable to contain her glee. “What is knowledge if it is easily gained?” she teased him. “I hope that if you manage to open it, its insides nourish you like water.”
Zhongli resisted the urge to throw the thing to the ground. “Very well,” he managed to say. “It shall keep me occupied, at the very least.”
“I hope it pleases you, my lord.”
“We’ll see about that,” he grumbled. “And what do we call our new community?”
She hummed and said, “There is something poetic about returning and departing, a fitting journey of our people. The Guili Assembly.”
He mulled the name over in his mind. “Yes, I think that is proper,” he said eventually. She smiled at him and offered him her hand.
***
Guizhong sluices water over his shoulders, the coolness of it carrying away the mud and blood on his body to stain the Bishui river muddy. With each new pass of water, Zhongli’s skin manages to peek through before shining completely clean.
“We’re having fish tonight,” she tells him.
He groans then says, apologetically, “I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t think I can stomach it.”
She moves to tend to the wounds now, dabbing each scratch with a poultice she had made, the smell light and green and fresh as it spreads thickly on Zhongli’s skin. “Marchosius can always make something else for you,” she offers.
“Thank you.”
“You must rest now, Zhongli.” Without another word, she helps Zhongli stand up from where he’s seated then guides him to the bed that’s been freshly prepared.
Zhongli lies down on the bed. Guizhong moves to sit on the foot of it but decides against it and instead brings forth a chair to place across from Zhongli. “I’ll be fine,” he tells her.
“I just wanted to talk,” she admits. “You have been in Guyun for a month.”
Hearing her words makes him give in. “What do you wish to talk about?”
“Your weapon… It’s made of nephrite, yes?”
Zhongli nods.
“Do you think it can feel pain when it has to slaughter someone?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Nephrite has a spirit. I’m sure you can feel it.” She leans closer and takes one of his hands in hers, the coolness of her skin soothing his inflamed one. “Do you feel pain when you have to slaughter someone?”
He meets her eyes and finds nothing in their greyness but unbidden curiosity. “I’m not sure anymore,” is what he finally says after giving it some thought. “There comes a point when it can feel almost meaningless, even.”
Guizhong remains silent now, and Zhongli tries to ease the tension with a slight laugh.
“But nephrite is different. It has a gentle soul at its core, much like yours, my dear.”
***
“Is Guizhong not coming?” Zhongli asks, frowning now at the tea in his cup for having gone cold on him.
“One thinks she is preoccupied in her new abode,” Cloud Retainer says with a slight hint of amusement.
“What could possibly be in it that would make her forget this meeting?” Zhongli grumbles.
“All sorts of things. One has built it to be the utmost delightful thing.”
“I suppose I can’t blame her. She and you share the same mind in this.”
Cloud Retainer hums then says, “She is on the precipice of something great. One can feel this.”
“Shall we bring this food to her, then? I’d like to see what she’s making.” Zhongli doesn’t wait for Cloud Retainer’s response before he starts fixing the table, Cloud Retainer giving him an exasperated sigh as she fashions a tray for them to deliver the food.
Together, they travel down the mountain towards Luhua Pool, where Cloud Retainer reveals the Realm of Clouds, the domain revealing itself to him as if the earth had split open. They find Guizhong tending to a ruin—or breaking it apart, rather, with her gentle hands, each piece meticulously arranged on the table.
“Guizhong, you have forgotten our arrangement,” Cloud Retainer chides her. “Silly girl.”
At the mention of her name, Guizhong stands up in shock. “Time had slipped right past me,” she exclaims. “I’m sorry.”
“No matter,” Zhongli tells her with a smile as he presents the tray of food he’d carried from Mt. Aocang. “We’re here to keep you company, if you’ll have us.”
Guizhong recovers from her initial embarrassment and smiles back. “Yes, I’m working on a ballista. Would you like to hear about it?”
***
He goes into the mountains and doesn’t come back out. He goes deeper underground, running his hands over the walls of the tunnels. The ores resonate with him at every touch, trembling at the very undoing of the earth.
A striking piece of jade pulses with light, is warm when he picks it up and sets it on his lap to carve in long strokes. The edge of the blade makes itself known to him first. He thinks of her hand and how it should conform to the hilt, making it smaller so she can hold it fully.
By the time he leaves the mountains, an entire month has passed and the full moon has risen to the sky, the same as the night he entered. By the time he makes his way back to Guizhong, it’s dawn.
“Did you find what you were searching for?” she asks.
Zhongli holds out the sword for her, letting the blade rest on his two open palms with the handle free for her to take. She does, if only to examine the sword and run her finger down the edge. “Do you like it?” he asks.
“I don’t know how to use such a thing,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “You must have gone into the depths of the mountain for this fine piece of jadeite.”
“Of course.”
“No one else could make this but you. It would be a shame if only I could use it.”
“I can teach you,” Zhongli says none too quickly, trying not to preen. “I had made it specifically for you.”
The realisation dawns on her—a high flush creeps up her face, and she curls her hand around the hilt, brandishing at him. “What do you think?”
Zhongli smiles then walks towards her, covers her hand with his own, guiding the sword to point upwards. “Lovely. It suits you so well.” Close like this, the scent of glaze lilies fills his head and his heart. “Strengthen your wrist like so. It should feel like your entire arm is controlling the sword. It is a part of you.”
“A part of me,” Guizhong echoes.
***
“I don’t want to fight,” Guizhong declares. The jadeite sword remained sheathed from the day it was made, its hilt gleaming from the cover. “There must be another way.”
“There is no other way,” Zhongli argues. “Look at Havria, fleeing from place to place.”
Guizhong bites her tongue and glowers at Zhongli.
“I won’t let that happen to you, to our people,” Zhongli promises.
“What if… I’m just like her? And I can only protect my people by running away?”
“You have me.”
“What if—”
“That is not an option,” Zhongli huffs.
“There is always a possibility.”
“Then you must fight,” Zhongli tells her, though he regrets the words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth. “That is the only option we have.”
She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. When she opens them again, her face is set in stone. “Then I will fight the best way I know how,” she says finally.
He doesn’t see her after that until one day, he hears a loud explosion followed by the crumbling of a mountain.
***
This is his fault, Zhongli thinks as he is hit by a billowing cloud of black dust and is thrown to the ground. Guizhong hits him again while he can barely defend himself, summoning a mere rock to throw her off balance.
“You thought I was so weak,” she sneers, “laughing at me because I couldn’t do anything for our people.”
Zhongli stays quiet as he slowly sits himself up.
Guizhong steps closer to him, close enough that he can her eyes rimmed red. “Am I being punished for being weak?” she asks him.
Again, he doesn’t answer her, but he tightens his grip on his sword.
She cries out for him to finish the sorry battle, summoning more dust overhead such that the sky turned black, and in a cowardly move, Zhongli calls for a pillar of stone to block her hand before swiftly darting out his sword to pierce her chest.
When he pulls it out, she falls on top of him. He cradles her back and whispers, “I’m sorry. I had a contract.”
She laughs softly. “At least it was you.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
“It seems that our journey together has come to an end,” she sighs as she looks up at him with a smile. The contortions of her face make the tears in her eyes fall down her cheeks.
On instinct, Zhongli reaches up a hand to wipe the tears from her face.
“As for that stone dumbbell, forget about it, would you?” she says, each word dissipating along with her body until Zhongli is clutching at nothing but air, his throat thick with dust.
***
Zhongli climbs up Mount Tianheng and watches his people move into the harbour, tiny dots trodding along a path he had made for them. From the corner of his eye, he could see the smoke covering the Guili Plains, clouding the area into imperceptible ruins.
He plants down glaze lilies into the soil beneath him, humming softly so the flowers can take root. “This is our home now,” he tells the flowers. “I kept our promise to you. Our people will prosper.”
As the sun sets over Liyue Harbour, little pockets of fires lighting up around the area, the glaze lilies begin to open up and shine silver against the moonlight.
***
The lights at Wangshu Inn turn on as the inhabitants wake up one by one. They come before the sun, drawing it out. The wind dies down and the stream stills to an imperceptible murmur.
Light peeks from the horizon. Zhongli stands up and leaves.