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Childe was following red lights on a long, winding path. He couldn’t tell why he was walking towards the faraway light. It wasn’t cold or warm, and his entire body felt weightless as he followed the lights. It was like a long, strange dream. Perhaps he had returned to the abyss, fallen through the rabbit hole again.
He’d woken up in an empty bed, lightheaded as if he’d taken strong medicine. The sheets slipped off his chest to the floor as he stood up. It was as if his feet didn’t really touch the ground. Coffee, he thought, to lift the drowsy sensation that lingered.
“Zhongli?” he called, to no response. Perhaps he’d gone to the Funeral Parlor early or received an emergency call. Zhongli was the type to stay in bed late like an old man, drink his morning tea around ten, and begin work around eleven. Childe’s missions often began early, their domestic life mismatched. He yawned, heading for the kitchen.
A pot of coffee was already steaming on the stove, prepared for when he awakened. He smiled, breathing in the fruity smell. A deep, roasted taste filled his mouth, and he sighed. There were chopsticks on the table but no food. Childe didn’t feel hungry anyway.
He gazed at a picture they’d taken with the Kamera during one of their adventures with Aether and his adventure team. It had only been a temporary collaboration to fulfill his own missions, but the situation changed, and he turned against Tsaritsa.
There was another picture with his family, Zhongli dressed in thick winter clothes, breathing mist in Snezhnaya’s cold air. The kids loved Zhongli, the elder siblings thought his couple was mismatched, and his parents were supportive. None of them knew his husband was a demigod nor that Childe was a Harbinger. Some secrets had remained forever.
He brushed the picture of his youngest brother, Teucer. He had grown up and looked a lot like Childe when he first met Zhongli. He’d cherished the ten years he’d spent with Zhongli. Those years had passed in a flash.
He looked up at the clock; 1PM already. Nothing was awaiting him outside, no missions, no war, no opponent to challenge. His body didn’t itch for exercise or training like it usually did. It was as light as a feather. Perhaps just reading a book for once would be nice.
Zhongli had an entire library of his own, more history than action and adventure. Still, Childe found a historical romance. This would do, he thought. It told the tales of a female martial artist who went through all kinds of misfortune and fought real and metaphorical demons before finding true love in her childhood friend. It was predictable and a bit cheesy. Childe was at chapter forty-one when he looked up at the clock. It was 8PM. He frowned.
Still not hungry, without a single meal in the day. Childe wondered if he’d been sick and tried to remember if he’d taken any medication. Something had happened to his stomach the day before, but it didn’t hurt, and he couldn’t remember what. There were rice cakes on the altar, nothing else in the house. They tasted sweet, just what he’d needed. He’d apologize to Zhongli later for stealing the offerings for the ancestors.
The dragon and phoenix chopsticks were also on the altar. What a strange place to put them, Childe thought, putting them back to the Hina Dolls the Yashiro Commission had offered them for their wedding.
It hadn’t been anything flashy. They married first in Liyue without holding a grand ceremony. They wore their nicest clothes, rode a boat, ate good food with a few friends, and made their vows in the Liyuean tradition. It was a contract, Zhongli had said. Not quite the romantic type.
The most fun, for Childe at least, had been the wedding party in Snezhnaya. They’d celebrated in a larger committee, mixing friends with Childe’s family. Old feuds were buried at that moment. The war was over, Tsaritsa dead, and the Fatui organization dismantled.
In the metaphorical sense, the dragon was spitting fire by the end of the party. Childe was allowed to kiss Zhongli in public without drawing a gasp of surprise or causing any outrage. Zhongli’s lips had been hot from the liquor they’d drunk, and his golden eyes were hazy and burning hot.
They’d laughed and danced until the cold sun rose over the snowy plains. His heart danced at the memories. 10PM. Time flew, and it seemed Zhongli wouldn’t return until very late. Childe decided to go for a walk, waiting for his husband to come home. Then, maybe, they could have dinner together. Most stores were closed by this time, but perhaps the night market was open. He went for the door.
Childe couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten downtown so fast. Lanterns were hanging everywhere, street merchants calling. The lantern rite already? Or was there another Liyuean festivity he hadn’t heard about? That explained why Zhongli was out all day, honoring his fallen comrades like he did yearly. Still, he’d return in the evening.
Childe hadn’t noticed the great float the day before, which usually took several to build. His memories were still disturbingly hazy. He remembered his early days with Zhongli and the first time they’d celebrated the lantern rite together. A deer float had taken for the sky, running for the stars and bursting into a rainbow of colors when it seemed to reach the moon. They weren’t lovers yet, but close enough to sit side by side.
Several years passed, and war had blocked the ceremony for a few. Then, everyone’s eyes filled with tears when their favorite celebration finally returned. It gave them a sense of normalcy. The people’s suffering seemed to have ended, at least for a while, and they could honor their dead. Delusions had become ancient history, as well as the fear of a Fatui invasion. Childe had participated in the terror.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d walked but understood that it was very late when lanterns began to float. Zhongli must have been waiting for him at home. A sense of urgency took hold, and Childe hurried. His feet were feeling even lighter than before. The float was about to depart, and he didn’t want to miss the sight to share with Zhongli.
He ran, following the lanterns back home. It felt as if everything around them were dark, the lanterns his only guides, like in his dream. Perhaps it had been a premonition, a memory of several times he’d been in the same situation, running to find Zhongli. Had the chasm opened again?
The door to their house was open, with a dim light and low chatter coming from the garden behind. He’d missed that there were tables around their home and recognized several faces. The only one who glanced at him, or glared, was Xiao. Childe cheerily greeted the Yaksha, who didn’t respond, as usual. A bit of almond tofu always took the frown away from his face.
Zhongli was seated near a giant lantern. They’d lost uncountable friends during their final battle against the Abyss. They usually set off a lantern with the names of the departed handwritten by Zhongli every year since. Wordlessly, Childe sat next to Zhongli.
Zhongli never showed his emotions, but today, he seemed even more somber, not even saying hello to Childe. It was normal he’d sulk a bit with Childe coming so late, leaving all the preparations to him without even knowing. Childe whispered an apology, but that didn’t seem to work.
Zhongli was holding a brush with ink and seemed hesitant. Childe read the names one by one. He frowned when he saw Alatus among the names. Then he remembered. Xiao had given his life in one of the final battles against the Abyss. He shook his head to chase the drowsy feeling and glanced back at the table where he’d seen his old rival. The Yaksha was gone. He might never have been there.
Hu Tao was looking at Childe with the same sad gaze as Zhongli, but she then turned to the other man. “Go on. He will need a guiding light to find his way to heaven.” Zhongli’s shoulders tensed, and his hands shook slightly as he reached for the lantern.
There, he wrote “Ajax.”
Childe reached for his lover, a wave of panic taking over. No, it was too early! Ten years were too short! His hand went through Zhongli, who shivered and exhaled. He might have felt something.
Childe’s hand was transparent. The time the great float was going to depart was nearing.
“Hey, ghosty girlie!” he called, as hopeful as distressed, to Hu Tao. “How? How did I die? Does my family…” She didn’t seem to hear him, but tears rolled on her cheeks as she put a hand on Zhongli’s shoulder.
“I feel… Like he’s here. They’re all here,” Hu Tao said.
And Childe realized that, indeed, they all were. Xiao stood next to him, surrounded by the other Yaksha. Old comrades he’d missed for years were smiling or frowning at him. Even Lumine was there, her soul intact. She smiled at Childe brightly. “They know. They’ll be waiting for your visit at the right time, in your own ceremonies.”
“D-does that mean I’m part of the good guys?” he asked in complete disbelief.
Lumine shrugged, “Our final actions counted, I guess.”
Zhongli cleared his throat and stood up. Childe didn’t want to leave. He hadn’t told Zhongli how much he loved him enough. They’d been too busy with work to spend quality time together. He wanted to return to ice-fishing with Zhongli, hold him one last time, kiss his lips if this was their final goodbye. It was as if an invisible wall of energy stood between Childe’s hand and Zhongli’s face.
“We will come back every year, as long as Zhongli prays for us,” Xiao mumbled, “As long as there are lanterns to guide us to our living home and back.” He was trying to be comforting in his own way.
Zhongli couldn’t hear him, couldn’t feel him, might believe he was there but could only say goodbye. Still, Childe shouted, “I love you! I love you, Zhongli!” Several ghosts seemed taken aback, but he didn’t care. He hoped his voice could reach the living as if the dead’s cries were fainter than whispers.
“I love you, Ajax,” Zhongli whispered, and he lit the lantern.
Childe’s feet left the ground. A boat appeared in the sky, and the pull was irresistible towards the stars. Downtown, the float had activated. It was a bird, a crane, a symbol of longevity. It stretched its wings and screeched, shining like the moon. Childe waved the living goodbye.
“Are you alright?” Ganyu asked Zhongli as he fiddled with the ring on his finger. He smiled a bit weakly.
He didn’t tell anyone, but he’d noticed the chopsticks had moved, and the moon cakes were gone. His Ajax had visited, and his soul was safe.