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Zhongli knows that Childe has been busy behind the scenes putting together the plans for the Gnosis. The Sigil of Permission sits in his shirt pocket, the shirt which is currently slung over the back of the hotel chair. Outside, the night sky is crisp and clear, a light breeze blowing in through the windows and ruffling Childe’s hair where the two of them sit perched on the edge of a hotel bed. Childe’s lodging was far too occupied with Fatui to be discreet, and Zhongli still lived on the floor above the funeral parlor—the lodging offered at a cut to his salary—right next to Hu Tao’s own. They had decided it was best to conduct their activities in a separate location entirely.
Childe yawns and stretches, rather cat-like. His hair is tousled from where Zhongli had pulled at it earlier, neck bitten pink and purple from the marks Zhongli had left. The sight sends a shock of adoration pulsing through Zhongli’s chest. He had never so badly wanted to possess something that was not his.
“I’ll probably be busy in the next few days,” says Childe. “Just so you know. But I’ll definitely swing by again before I leave.”
He might. He might not. It all depended whether the revelation of Zhongli’s true identity would change things. Zhongli had allowed himself to indulge far too much in this plan that originally only involved getting to know Childe on a surface level to keep tabs on him. And now here he was, resting his hand over Childe’s in a self-indulgent touch.
“In case you don’t,” says Zhongli, “I have something to give you.”
He reaches towards the nightstand and plucks a single glaze lily from the vase there. Quickly and efficiently, he bends the stem and breaks it in half, so that the stem is cut short. Then, slowly, he turns to Childe, memorizes those wide blue eyes, those faint freckles dotting pink-tinted cheeks, and tucks a section of his bangs behind his ear, along with the decorative flower.
“A souvenir from Liyue,” says Zhongli, “so that you may remember our times together.”
He had arrived at the hotel room before Childe had, and set the flower here in the water, heart racing in trepidation. It was a glaze lily of the purest variety, the kind that grew only sparsely in Qingce Village. A place Zhongli would’ve liked to take Childe to, had they had more time to spare in this land. Childe probably believed it was a standard hotel decoration. If that was the case, then Zhongli would not correct him. Childe’s loyalties, after all, lay elsewhere. It was probably for the best that he not know the true depths of Zhongli’s feelings.
Childe’s cheeks grow even redder. He looks down at their joined hands, then looks away, mouth opening briefly before dropping shut once again.
“Zhongli,” he says quietly. “I…” Bashfully, he reaches up and touches the flower behind his ear. “Thank you.”
There is so much that Zhongli wants to say, but he cannot find the words. The people of Liyue were wrong to think him infallible. Even he had thought himself infallible. How foolish, to think that anyone, no matter how hardened by thousands of years of experience, could resist the slow erosion of one’s heart when faced with the tidal wave that came in the form of one blue-eyed Harbinger with a knife-sharp smile.
In lieu of all of this, Zhongli simply smiles, and says, “The blue really does bring out your eyes.”
Perhaps one day, once the dust has settled, Zhongli will tell him. Once Childe learns who Zhongli really is, accepts his deceit for what it was, and they form their relationship anew. Then and only then might Zhongli bear to bare his heart once more.