Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yelan has always been accustomed to being alone and though she does enjoy the company of others, there is always the inevitable parting at the end of their gathering, where they would go their own ways and she would return to her humble abode, alone. 

This is her sanctuary and refuge where she could just relax and unwind and just be alone. 

It’s simple in stature. Furnished and filled solely for her and her alone. Nobody else.

It starts innocuously enough. 

“Please sit down.” 

“No, you sit down.” Whatever bravado Yelan can muster is immediately disrupted by a coughing fit. She had been bedridden for the last couple of days, catered to by a certain cryo wielder and cryo spirit. Even moving to sit at the dining table was a welcome change of scenery.

It’s impressive the way that Shenhe can be gentle but so forceful at the same time, guiding Yelan to her lone chair at the dining table with one hand. 

“Some tea?” Shenhe asks. She sets out Yelan’s one teacup and one bowl in front of them on the table. A teapot with steam pouring from the spout is already on the tray in between the teacup and the bowl. 

“Yes, but I can pour it myself,” Yelan grouses as she struggles up from the dining chair to take the teapot from Shenhe. She ignores the way that the scar in the middle of her palm hurts when the edge of the teapot presses against it. There’s no way that she’s going to back down from this now, even if it's a simple and stupid action to press on with. 

Shenhe lets her, watching her impassively as she pours tea into both drinking implements, hands trembling with the effort. 

“Thanks,” she murmurs quietly. She waits for Yelan to pick up the bowl of tea before taking the teacup for herself. She retreats to the far side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Her long legs allow her to sit on the edge of the counter without needing to hop up.

Realizing that she was staring, Yelan hastily looks away. What is she doing?

Yelan takes a sip of her tea instead, settling into the chair underneath her with a long sigh. The bitterness of the qingxin tea is welcome in that it soothes the ache in her throat, raw from all the coughing. Once upon a time, she might have grimaced at the taste of the flowers but she had been drinking so much of it that it was nothing more than another taste on the back of her tongue. 

Bland.

She must still make some kind of face though because Shenhe is back at her side in an instant. 

“Here, try this,” Shenhe stirs a spoon of honey into Yelan’s bowl. The golden syrup dissolves easily into the tea. 

Yelan raises an eyebrow at the addition but doesn’t otherwise comment. In still shaking hands, she lifts the bowl up to her lips and takes a tentative sip. She’s not a huge fan of sweet things but the spoonful of honey in the otherwise bitter tea really added an interesting note to it. 

Something a little different. 

Something interesting. 

Beyond the bitter floral scent of the tea and the even more foul scent of her medicine being prepared on one of her kitchen counters, she can smell something delicious wafting through the air. 

Her stomach growls at the scent. Something meaty and heavily spiced. 

“Hungry?” Shenhe asks, amusement clear on her features. “I brought food from Wanmin restaurant.”

“Starving,” Yelan affirms, suddenly realizing that she hasn't really eaten everything all day. Hard to want to eat anything when every other bite was accompanied with a strong enough coughing fit that threatened to remove everything that she had just eaten. 

“Finish your tea,” Shenhe says as she begins unpacking a large basket.

How had Yelan not noticed such a large basket there earlier? This whole illness and injury thing was taking a lot of her. Still, she does as she’s told, drinking the tea. 

If someone told her that Shenhe would be in her house at all hours of the day following her triumphant rescue from the Chasm, Yelan would have scoffed once upon a time. Shenhe has better things to do, mountains to climb, boulders to move around like they were building blocks, evil spirits to exorcise. Instead, Shenhe sticks around, so familiar with Yelan’s house now that it’s practically her own. 

Yelan can’t figure out why Shenhe is still here — she hadn’t asked her to stick around, but the other woman had seemingly taken it upon herself to make sure that Yelan was following the doctor’s instructions of rest and medicine and more rest. If she was in a better state, she would wonder where Shenhe was staying in Liyue Harbour. 

Though she is pleased that Shenhe is staying in the harbour instead of leaving for Jueyun Karst for days at a time. It saved her the effort of trying to scale the mountain in search of her — not that Yelan could even walk out her front door in this state.

By the time Yelan has drained the last few sips of her tea, Shenhe has set out several dishes on the table, including a large pot of congee. 

“How was your nap?” She asks as she takes the bowl from Yelan, setting her own teacup in its place. 

“Terrible,” Yelan grouses, rubbing her eyes blearily. “Those damned birds outside my window kept waking me up.”

“Did you want me to kill them?” Shenhe asks from where she is rinsing out Yelan’s bowl at the sink. The way that she tosses the suggestion out is so casual, so matter of fact, that it makes Yelan laugh.

Which in turn makes her cough. 

Shenhe is at her side immediately, patting her back in an attempt to help ease the coughing. “Drink some more tea,” she pushes her teacup in front of Yelan. 

“What will you drink?” Yelan gasps in between coughs but she does as she’s told. 

“I’ll be fine,” Shenhe tells her, and she continues to pat her until the coughing subsides. Once she’s certain that Yelan isn’t about to devolve into another coughing fit, she spoons a large portion of the congee into Yelan’s newly washed, lone bowl. The pale congee is topped with a gentle sprinkle of pork floss and pickles and finished with two of her chopsticks balanced along the edge. 

“Congee again,” Yelan sighs, tired of eating the same bland foods day in and day out. She was adventurous on a good day, but after several days of the same gentle foods while she was recovering, she was ready to crawl up the walls in boredom. 

“Yes. Now eat it before it gets cold.” 

Even, she eats the congee first. Odd, she eats the toppings. She tosses her lucky die into the air, nearly dropping it when she catches it and looks at it. The die rests perfectly on the scar on her palm like this was the spot that it had always belonged. That’s not wrong exactly. 

Four.

Well, the toppings were probably the best part, so it makes sense to save the best for last. 

She eats slowly — Yelan is delighted to find that there’s a piece of spicy pork belly buried at the bottom of her bowl. Xiangling must have snuck it in there for her, bless her. Although, with Shenhe’s keen senses, she probably noticed it when she doled out her bowl. As hungry and battered as she is, she still eats with a sense of poise, too proud to be shovelling food into her mouth. Xiangling had really outdone herself, cooking the congee in broth just to give it a little bit of extra flavour. Even as Yelan digs in, she’s acutely aware of Shenhe still rummaging through the kitchen drawers. 

“What are you looking for?” 

“Why do you only have three chopsticks?” 

Another drawer closes with a soft thud as Shenhe comes away with a single chopstick in her hand, looking puzzled. The other hand holds Yelan’s lone spoon, freshly washed and devoid of any honey. 

“The same reason why I only have one bowl, and one teacup, and one chair,” Yelan shrugs. “I never needed any more.” She has lived alone for nearly a decade and a half now. Nobody ever came to her house, it was her sanctuary, her haven. There was never any need for additional things in her house, like extra chairs, or dishes, or cutlery. 

Her house had been a solitary existence. A place for her to return to at the end of a long mission and just… be. The solitude was comforting, like a reminder of the way that she was meant to be. 

“Yes, but why three?” Shenhe returns to the table side, single chopstick in her hand still. It looks kind of lonely. 

“In case I break one.” 

Shenhe’s confusion only deepens, looking at the bamboo implement in her hand. “Are you fond of this chopstick?” 

“I mean, it’s just a chopstick,” Yelan shrugs. 

“You won't mind if I break it?” 

“It’s a spare. You can keep it if you want.”

It’s still startling to watch Shenhe snap the chopstick cleanly in two with three fingers — balancing the chopstick against her thumb and then pulling back with her middle and index. Yelan swallows her food stiffly, suddenly her mouth is very dry. It’s so easy to forget that Shenhe’s graceful form hides so much strength. 

Archons, she could probably snap her neck with one hand. 

And then, like she hadn’t just exhibited an impressive display of strength, Shenhe begins to dig into her own food, a salad made from the stems and leaves of the qingxin that hadn’t been used for Yelan’s medicine or tea. She’s careful to use the two whole ends to pick up the food and not the now splintered ends, eating as if nothing was wrong at all. It’s so casual, the way that she leans against the kitchen counter again as if she always had and this was perfectly normal. 

They continue to eat in silence with Shenhe refilling Yelan's bowl with more and more congee every time she finishes eating. 

“Enough, enough,” Yelan finally protests with a laugh. “If you feed me any more, I will explode.” 

Shenhe finally acquiesces with a small smile, hovering at the edge of the table. Her gaze lingers on Yelan’s face, watching her carefully. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” Yelan suddenly feels self-conscious. She picks up a napkin and presses it into Shenhe’s hand. “You should get it for me.”

It’s more of a tease than anything else. A little joke between friends. What she doesn’t expect is for Shenhe to reach out and wipe a spot away from Yelan’s cheek, just shy of her lips. The stark juxtaposition of the same hand, which had destroyed a chopstick like it was nothing, now gently brushing across her skin makes Yelan’s breath hitch in her throat. 

Still, Shenhe’s gaze lingers, long after her touch has receded. 

“What?” Yelan coughs, turning away from the intensity of her stare. She had never been one to shy away before but there’s something else in Shenhe’s gaze as she stares at her and Yelan has this sinking feeling that if she went searching for that something else in those opalescent pools of her gaze, she just might drown. 

You like her. 

You should do something. 

She rolls her lucky die under the table, tossing it back and forth between her hands. Even, she’d do something. Odd, nothing would happen.

She runs her thumb over the top face of the die.

Six.

“You look much better,” Shenhe says softly. “You were so pale when I brought you back.”

Right. 

Shenhe had seen her on the brink of death and carried her back. She had seen her in a pitiful state. She had seen her at one of her worst times. This is probably not a good time for her to say anything. She’s probably not the right person to be saying anything — she thinks about all the other people out there, the time that Shenhe spends with the capable traveller, the smiles she gives the brilliant Yun Jin.

Yelan puts her lucky die away.

No use gambling against something with no chance.

“Well. I think I’d look even better if you let me go out and do things instead of resting at home all day,” she quips, trying to ease some of the tension in the air. 

She gets a vigorous shake of the head in reply. “Doctor says you have to rest. Lady Ningguang agrees.” 

Yelan sighs, she was so bored being stuck at home by herself. 

“If you are doing better, we can try to go for a walk later,” Shenhe suggests, beginning to clear up the dishes. 

“A walk?” Yelan brightens up immediately. “How daring of you. A most dangerous activity indeed. But what if I get tired mid-walk and can’t move?” 

“I’ll carry you.” 

When Shenhe goes hunting for cutlery again several days later so that they can share the large bowl of noodles with mountain delicacies that she has brought home, she’s very surprised to find that there’s a second pair of chopsticks in the drawer. There’s nothing special about them, a near match for Yelan’s original pair and the single one that Shenhe had snapped in half. In fact, the snapped chopsticks were still there, the splintered ends sanded down to perfectly smooth tips again. 

She finds herself smiling as she retrieves the two pairs (proper pairs) of chopsticks. 

They dig into their noodles, Yelan sitting cross-legged on her dining chair, Shenhe watching her eat at her spot by the kitchen counter. 

Perhaps too distracted by the idea that she was finally eating something more than soup and congee, Yelan tucks in eagerly, without care for the grace and poise she usually exhibited. The silence leaves enough space for Shenhe to think. 

Home? When had she started thinking that this place, this place that she brought food home was home?

Home….

There it was again. She had decided to stay in Liyue Harbour a while ago.

Yelan doesn’t say anything. 

So Shenhe doesn’t say anything either. 

“It’s too hot,” Yelan complains, kicking her covers to the side for the fifth time. 

“You have a fever.” Shenhe’s matter-of-fact statement of observation does nothing to cool her off. 

Currently, Yelan is sweaty and uncomfortable and all she wants to do is jump into the middle of Liyue Harbour. She’s too miserable to care about the fact that she’s being whiny and less than composed in front of company. Shenhe has seen her in a worse state so she surmises that this is probably okay. It surprises her when Shenhe summons her talisman spirit, the faint blue glow throwing strange shadows across the room as she spins across the room near the ceiling. Her presence is immediately cooling, a trail of snowflakes fluttering after her as she waves at Yelan. 

(A poor salve for her pride and ego but it's all she can afford at this point.) 

“Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s still too hot,” Yelan grumbles, rolling around on her bed in an attempt to find some space that was slightly cooler. She reaches up for the talisman spirit, hoping that it might offer more cooling, only to find that Shenhe has shooed it further along the ceiling, far out of Yelan’s reach with a deep frown on her face. If Yelan didn’t know any better, or perhaps if she was in a more lucid mindset, she would have said that Shenhe looked jealous. 

But she does know better, and the fever is making her delirious.  

Apparently, this whole illness thing would get worse before it got better. The worst of the coughing had finally died down after a couple of weeks. Hopefully, this fever will be the end of it. A damp towel settling over her forehead offers some relief as Shenhe replaces the cold compress. The relief is only fleeting though and the towel quickly warms on her skin. 

Gentle fingers trace the curve of her cheek, brushing back strands of sweaty hair clinging to her face. Immediately, Yelan rolls over, grabbing at the hand and pressing her cheek against the cool skin. Perhaps it's the cryo vision, perhaps it's her temperament, perhaps it's because Shenhe has always lived in the mountains, the starry skies her ceiling. Shenhe is always naturally cold.

Shenhe is also naturally not a touchy kind of person but she lets Yelan curl around her arm as she tries to siphon as much cold from Shenhe. Yelan looks up to find the other woman watching her with a gentle expression on her face and an intensity in her eyes that makes Yelan’s heart twist.

If she might reach up right now, Shenhe’s face would be close enough for her to touch, close enough for her to follow the path that her cheekbones lay out on her face. Something inside her wants to too. It pushes her to do it, raising her hand into the air, halfway up to Shenhe’s face before she really knows what’s happening.

She catches herself in time — she can’t do it. 

You can do it.

You want to. 

Instead, she leans over Shenhe in the bed, reaching her lucky die on her nightstand and gives it a roll. Same deal. 

Evens, she does. Odds, she doesn’t.

Four. 

Looking back up at Shenhe, seeing the kindness in her eyes, the way that she is present in such a gentle manner that only speaks volumes about how strong she really is, Yelan finds that she really can’t. How could the same hands that destroy entire boulders and snap chopsticks brush the hair away from her face with a touch like snowflakes kissing her face as they land?

This is not the right place or time. 

If there was ever a right place or time. 

“This is much cooler,” is what Yelan mumbles instead, wrapping herself around the limb. She’s only vaguely aware of Shenhe shifting next to her on the bed. Her eyes flutter shut, she can’t keep looking into pearlescent eyes. Still, something in her yearns, she can’t help herself. “Will you sleep here tonight?”

“You only have one pillow,” Shenhe points out even as Yelan feels the bed dip down slightly. 

“You can just use mine,” Yelan pulls the pillow from beneath her head without looking, smacking Shenhe with it when she offers it up. “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty.” 

The feeling of another body, skin still cool to the touch against her own burning one, is unbelievably welcome. Perhaps she shouldn’t, but she moves over so that she’s much closer, practically intertwined with the other woman. 

“What will you use?” 

If anyone were to ever ask her about this moment in particular in the future, Yelan would only deny it vehemently. It’s the delirium from the fever, she tells herself. Nothing more. 

Nothing less. 

You. 

Yelan pretends to fall asleep immediately. 

Some days later, Shenhe finds a second pillow on the bed. The sun is shining brightly outside, and she has taken it upon herself to wash the bedsheets while Yelan is in the bathroom. There’s some new detergent that she bought that was supposedly good for helping people sleep that she wants to use. She frowns, certain that there was only one pillow when she had been here last. 

The pillowcase is a matching one, a pale blue-grey. The pillow itself is different, made of a firm material, bordering rock hard — completely different from Yelan’s cloud-like one that she has been using. 

(Yelan hasn’t been using a pillow at all — well that’s not entirely accurate.)

 Shenhe gives it an experimental squeeze, holding it up to her face so that she can really feel it. 

It smells faintly of qingxin, the sea, and another flower that Shenhe doesn’t know the name of but reminds her of Yelan. 

A good pillow, Shenhe decides. She’s more accustomed to sleeping on the stony ground of Jueyun Karst and the wooden dining chair that she had dragged up to the hallway outside of Yelan’s room every night, but this? This will be nice. 

This makes her feel more at home, makes her feel a strange warmth bubble up from inside her. 

How Yelan knows that she would like this, she doesn’t know. But the hydro-wielder always seemed to know things that ordinary people did not. Also, when had she gone out to get a pillow when she was still supposed to be resting?

Shenhe sets the pillow down, gathering up the bedsheets again. There are many questions.

But Yelan says nothing. 

So Shenhe says nothing too. 

She smiles to herself. 

“Could you pour me some more tea?” 

“Sure.” Shenhe refills the bowl in Yelan’s outstretched hand with more tea. 

Steam rises all around them, thick coils scented with oils and flower petals and the rest of the bath salts that Yelan still had on hand. If anyone had ever told her that she would be sharing a bath with Shenhe she would have laughed and bet against that. 

They had been out on their nightly evening walk, just down to the water’s edge and back, nothing strenuous or adventurous (much to Yelan’s chagrin), when it started pouring. It was like the heavens themselves opened up and emptied all their stores for the rest of the year. Their streak of daily walks every night for nearly a month had to be broken by inclement weather at some point. Shenhe had immediately scooped Yelan up in her arms and sprinted the whole way back to her house. 

Fortunately this time, she didn’t break the door down and had the sense to send her talisman ahead to open the door again. 

It was like déjà vu again, coming in from the cold and the rain — until Yelan suggested a bath. 

For a second she was worried that Shenhe will — well, for all the skills that Yelan has developed over the years reading people and predicting how they will behave or what they will say, she was suddenly at a loss as to what she thought Shenhe might say or do next.

Maybe she’d run away back to Jueyun Karst, afraid of Yelan’s suggestion. Or maybe she’d smite her through the wall with her adeptal strength.

(Yelan wouldn’t be totally opposed to that experience. Not that she was going to say anything.)

But Shenhe agreed quietly and started making tea to go with the bath.

Not Yelan’s usual choice of drink when she’s about to relax in a hot bath, but nothing about this is quite her usual bath. This whole thing didn’t even feel quite real. By the time that Shenhe had finally gotten into the bath — Yelan politely averted her eyes to look at the ceiling, her own form surrounded by mountains of fluffy white bubbles everywhere, Yelan had convinced herself that this whole thing was a dream. 

“I must say, I didn’t expect hot water to be so nice,” Shenhe lifts her other hand out of the water, covered in bubbles. She blows them away, across the tub. “Or that you had such a large bathtub.” 

Yelan squints at her, “You agreed to come to take a bath anyway thinking I only had a small bathtub?”

Her house may be simple but she was very fond of relaxing. A big bathtub with all the different accessories and bottles of fine liquor was usually how she would unwind after a long mission in the Chasm. Nothing like being pampered to forget how gross the dark ooze down there could be. 

“I was intrigued,” Shenhe says nonchalantly with a shrug. “I have never had a bath like this.” 

Sometimes Yelan forgets that Shenhe is not like anyone else that she has ever met. Her other hand comes to a rest next to Shenhe’s underwater, close enough that their pinkies barely graze each other. It has been like this for the last little while, since Shenhe started outwardly staying over at night in Yelan’s bed instead of pretending to leave while Yelan is still too sick to process and sleeping in a chair in the hallway. They are always subtly in physical contact with each other, just little gestures and gentle touches that mean nothing at all. 

Two people in close proximity. 

Nothing else.

“Do you not take baths in Jueyun Karst?” Yelan winces, realizing how insensitive that might have sounded. 

“In the river and ponds, yes. But it was more of a practical affair. There certainly were no fancy soaps and scents, and certainly no —” Shenhe lifts another handful of bubbles up, some strands of her wet hair stick to her arm as she lifts it, “bubbles.”

“Well, this is how I like to relax,” Yelan says, leaning back against the edge of the tub. 

The cool porcelain feels heavenly against the back of her neck, offering up a little bit of relief against the heat of the water. All the aches and bruises that are slowly healing relish in the heat, and she knows it's good for her, but being this close to another woman in her bath, being this close to Shenhe, well, her cheeks feel warm. Maybe it’s not entirely due to the heat of the bath.

She brings the teacup up to her lips, taking a long sip of the hot beverage. 

At least her cough isn’t as bad with all this steam and moisture in the air. 

“Interesting,” is all Shenhe has to say. 

“Well, what do you like to do to relax?” Yelan asks. 

“There are many training exercises I like to do.” Shenhe reaches over with the teapot, refilling the bowl in Yelan’s hand with more tea.

Yelan looks away, trying her best to not look at the pale expanse of skin that stretches over the top of the bubbles as Shenhe leans over. Red ropes still wind their way across her body, stark against her skin. If Yelan closes her eyes, she can still see the ropes, red as blood. They’re almost like wounds that criss-cross Shenhe’s body, fresh and deadly. She pushes that image away. There’s no place for that image here. Shenhe is alive and well and breathing and in the bath with her. 

A more curious part of her wonders how Shenhe got out of her body suit without taking the ropes off. 

Another part of her tells her to stop wondering about things that she has no business wondering about. 

“That’s your idea of relaxing?” she coughs, trying to disguise whatever is happening to her. 

“Training is very relaxing. Not only am I improving, but I can stop thinking and just focus on one thing.” 

“That’s it?” Yelan asks in disbelief. “You just train?”

“Well, I do like to go see Yun Jin’s operas occasionally.” Shenhe pauses, thinking, “I also eat meals with you. Collect qingxin for you. We go on walks together. And now I am trying this bathing thing.”

That makes Yelan laugh. “Trying this bathing thing — you make it sound like you never bathe.”

“Well, I don’t,” Shenhe says earnestly, she pauses, reconsidering her words. “Not like this. I’ve never considered taking a bath to be relaxing. But now, I could see why you would consider it.” 

“You should try it with a glass of liquor. Now that would really hit the spot,” Yelan sighs, taking another sip of her tea and sinking deeper into the water so that her ears were barely over the bubbles. 

“No liquor, you’re still recovering. It’s bad for you.” Shenhe tells her sternly. 

“I’m already drinking tea,” Yelan harrumphs, blowing a pile of bubbles away from her face. She immediately bursts out into a fit of coughs — jinxed her earlier statement it seemed.

One cough turns into another until she is sitting upright, bowl of tea set aside on the edge of the tub, trying to catch her breath. She’s aware of Shenhe’s presence at her side, not quite close enough to touch but near enough to let Yelan know that she was here if she needed anything. Yelan likes that about Shenhe. Perhaps it’s because they are two pieces cut from different ends of the same cloth. Perhaps it’s who Shenhe is as a person. But she never crowds Yelan. She never offers help too early. Some would call Yelan too proud for her own good, too stubborn, and unwilling to accept help. But Shenhe lets her work through everything at her own pace, she doesn't coddle her or try to do everything for her. 

Eventually, the coughing does subside, and she looks up to find that she has leaned into Shenhe’s side. Even in the heat of the water, Shenhe’s skin still feels slightly cool to the touch, the slight contact is almost like a relief. Like somehow this has taken a weight off of Yelan’s shoulders. 

Shenhe shoots her a look like ‘see’? 

They lapse into an easy silence, elbows brushing against each other’s under the water, knees bumping gently as well as the heat of the water dissipates around them. 

“So how do your red ropes work?” Yelan speaks up suddenly, her voice seemingly ridiculously loud as it echoes against the bathroom tile. She trails a finger up one of the ropes along Shenhe’s shoulder. 

Perhaps she’s brave, perhaps she’s stupid. But she moves slowly enough that Shenhe could pull away at any time. The cryo wielder hardly even flinches, not even looking at what Yelan is doing but rather directly at her, never breaking eye contact.

“They keep my powers at bay. Keeps people safe. There’s a cost of course,” Shenhe shrugs like this was no big deal. And perhaps to her, it really isn’t. After all, she has lived like this for most of her life. Her shrugging motion shakes Yelan’s finger from the rope, and she finds her hand now on Shenhe’s bare shoulder. 

“A cost?” Yelan echoes. She doesn’t move her hand away, Shenhe doesn’t pull away either. 

None of this is exactly brand new information — Yelan is very good at gathering intel. But she doesn’t let on, there’s a difference between intel gathered and being told something. 

“It dampens my emotions.” 

It’s still so astonishing how Shenhe can toss out facts like this without any care in the world like she’s commenting on the weather. Perhaps that was all that it really was, these are simply things that she has had to live with. 

Still, something inside Yelan that she hasn’t realized has lifted so high in her chest sinks, plummeting and hitting the waters below with a mighty splash. The idea that Shenhe doesn’t quite feel emotions the same shocks her more than she thought it would. Carefully, she schools her features into one of casual interest. This has nothing to do with her. There is no reason for her to be invested in this. 

Her heart still pounds angrily in her chest. 

“Does- does that bother you at all?” 

Shenhe shrugs again. “I don’t really know anything else. So I guess not.” She glances over at Yelan, an unreadable expression on her face. She shifts, moving a little closer to Yelan, one hand on the seat behind her. 

They are leaning so close together in the tub, in still mostly hot water that Yelan can see the drops of water that bead on the edge of Shenhe’s chin, crystal droplets hovering there against slightly pink skin, ripe and ready to fall like sunsettia in the summer. The other woman exhales, and Yelan can feel her slightly cool breath brush over her cheeks, much the same way that Shenhe’s talisman spirit has so often danced past her, barely caressing her skin with little flurries of cryo power. She doesn’t know what overtakes her, but she reaches out with a hand, and catches those crystal droplets, trailing a finger across Shenhe’s chin.

She’s drowning in pools of opalescent light and it’s hard to breathe with the way that her heart hammers against her chest, each beat forcing the air from her lungs as it moves. 

In the end, she is the first to break their locked gazes, turning her attention away from Shenhe, searching desperately for something to distract her instead. 

You could have this if you would just let yourself. 

Tell me, what more do you need in this moment other than to lean forwards and just kiss her?

She can’t. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t. There’s no way that she can. Not her. And not with Shenhe. She has been alone for this long, there’s no way that she can. 

Her eyes land on her lucky die. It’s sitting on a ledge next to the tub, right where she had left it when she got into the bath. She rolls it along the ledge, the clattering of the die’s metallic surfaces echoing loudly throughout the tiled bathroom. 

Evens, she can. Odds she can’t. 

Six. 

She stares at the die for a moment, as if it might feel the force of her eyes and just rolls over from one flat face onto another. 

She can’t do it. 

It doesn’t budge. 

So she flicks it over with her finger.

One.

“Perhaps, we should get out of the water. It’s getting cold,” Yelan says, voice so low it’s almost a whisper. “Head to bed.”

“You only have one towel.”

She looks up, over at the hanger next to the tub. There would be a spare in the closet in the hallway — no there wasn’t this was the spare. She had forgotten that she had washed her other towel this morning and taken it outside to dry. They never brought it back in. It’s definitely soaking wet still. 

“You know that I could dry us both off if you just let me use my Vision,” Yelan points out. 

“That’s not resting,” Shenhe tells her. “The doctor said you shouldn’t use it for a while, remember?”

Yelan raises two fingers into the air, pretending like she was about to pull the water away from them using her power. 

“I will tie you down if you try,” Shenhe says without missing a beat. 

“Ooh, kinky,” Yelan winks. Whatever mood that hung over them earlier has seemingly dissipated.  “No dinner first?”

She pauses, considering everything. This joke probably went over Shenhe’s head. She did live amongst the adepti for most of her life, isolated from the bizarreness that was human cultures. Just when she’s wondering if she should apologize instead, Shenhe speaks up.

“If you enjoy being tied up, you only need to say so. That can be arranged,” Shenhe replies. “Dinner has nothing to do with it.”

Oh ho ho, what an interesting development. 

Perhaps she hadn’t been as isolated as Yelan thought. She grins toothily, delighted at this turn of events. Still, she doesn’t press any further, unwilling to push this boundary too far. 

“Is that why you were inquiring about my ropes?” 

Yelan’s grin only grows. “Maybe, you’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you?”

Shenhe sighs. “Do not use your vision. Are you fond of this towel?”

“No more than I am fond of my chopsticks.” She knew where this was going. 

“Excellent,” Shenhe says before she plucks the towel from the hanger next to her side of the tub. 

Honestly, Yelan shouldn’t stare. More of Shenhe’s skin is exposed as she reaches out of the water for the towel. If there were fewer bubbles in the way, then — Yelan doesn’t even have time to finish that thought as Shenhe tears the towel in two, like its nothing more than a sheet of paper. To be fair, her towels have definitely also seen better days after years of use. They aren’t the fluffiest out there but still quite soft and absorbent enough to do the trick. 

It’s still impressive though.

“Here you go,” Shenhe says, handing her her half of the towel. 

“Thank you kindly.” 

The clattering of her die rolling echoes faintly in her ears. 

Shenhe slips into the bathroom a few days later while Yelan is having her afternoon nap. The archer is dozing in the sun, gentle morning breezes playing across her face. She looks much better now, mostly recovered except for the odd cough here and there and some residual aches. 

Still, it’s better to be cautious and Shenhe has been meticulous with ensuring that she finishes all the medicine as prescribed even if she was feeling better — that included resting appropriately. She can tell that Yelan has been itching to do something, get out of the house, shoot her bow, drink liquor, a myriad of things that is currently frowned on.

Quietly, Shenhe pours a new packet of bath salts into the empty jar that sits on the side of the bathroom counter. A reminder for Yelan to pick up more in the future. Well, there would be no need for that. She’s putting away the jar in one of the drawers when she spots them. There’s a pair of towels hanging next to the tub. Before she can stop herself, she’s reaching out for them.

The pale blue fabric is soft against her skin. Thicker too, the pile is high and fluffy. These are definitely new. She turns the towel over in her hands, there in the corner, embroidered in a fine red thread, is a small crane. Shenhe traces a finger over the stitches, feeling the ridges against the calloused pad of her fingertip. 

She’s abruptly reminded of a gentle touch tracing over her own skin, heat and steam pooling around them like fog over the harbour on a misty morning. Subconsciously, she rubs a thumb over the red rope which runs over her collarbones and past her shoulders. It almost feels like the fog lifts at that moment. A brief moment of clarity, so stark that Shenhe’s breath hitches. 

Like staring out over the harbour, waters blue, skies clear. The horizon is hardly there, sea and sky merging into one brilliant expanse. 

Something surges in Shenhe’s chest, pushing against the ropes that keep her bound. A swell of emotion that rises and crests over Shenhe’s head, threatening to take her with it and she can feel it. By the Archons, she can feel the beat of her heart against her ribcage, a twisting in her stomach, and warmth that seemingly emanates from that spot along the red rope. 

It’s terrifying.

Exhilarating and terrifying. 

She had experienced the same thing with Yelan in the bath but she had thought it to be a one-off event. Something about the different oils and perfumes and waters afflicting her in new ways that she has never experienced. 

This. 

This — she has to figure out what this is. No, deep down, she knows what this is. She has to figure out why this can even happen.

What this means for her. If what she is feeling is even possible. If it’s even allowed. 

For Yelan. 

For the two of them. 

Hastily, she retreats out of the bathroom, leaving Yelan still dozing on the bed. For a second, she’s certain that she sees Yelan open her eyes just a sliver to watch her leave the room, that Yelan would call out for her, to ask her to stay.

But Yelan says nothing. 

So Shenhe says nothing too. 

She leaves.

It’s a pleasant afternoon. Almost perfect. Sunlight streams in through the half-drawn shades of the kitchen window. Birds sing softly from one of the many trees that line this quiet little street just tucked away from the bustle of Liyue Harbour. The strong scent of the finest herbal tea fills the air like incense burning in a temple. The floral and bitter scent is reminiscent of a beloved and very expensive bottle of liquor distilled from tea leaves. 

A perfect day. 

“You’ve done some redecorating,” Ningguang comments as she takes a sip of tea. 

Almost perfect day. 

Yelan scowls at the woman sitting across from her. She had planned to lounge around the house half-naked and maybe roll some dice by herself. Instead, her plans are ruined by the sudden appearance of a certain white-haired Tianquan knocking at her door with a basket of snacks in her hands and a series of new reports. She knows Shenhe has put her up to this, a babysitter so that Yelan doesn’t do something stupid when still technically supposed to be resting as per the doctor’s orders even though she felt completely fine. 

So Yelan begrudgingly gets redressed, pulling on a fine silk robe and accepts the stack of new reports. The shimmering pale blues of the fabric reminded her of Shenhe — how her eyes would twinkle with mirth whenever she succeeded in teasing her. Perhaps that’s why she’s so fond of wearing the robe around the house. 

She has no idea what Ningguang is talking about. “I do what I want, you know that,” Yelan snipes back. She has definitely not done any redecorating. Whatever haughty facade that she might have is dampened by the fact that there is a bowl of tea in her hand. She takes a long sip from it, long used to the habit now. 

Ningguang has the only teacup that Yelan owns in her hand and she’s twirling her pipe around in her other. Ugh, how she wished that Shenhe was the white-haired woman here today instead. Shenhe wouldn’t sit and gripe at her about her life choices. She fans herself lightly with one of the reports. Has her kitchen always been this warm? Perhaps it’s the sun. 

“You’ve changed,” Ningguang says idly, casting a keen eye around the room. It's like she's carefully taking apart the room to see if there are any secrets.

“Less than you think,” Yelan replies, taking another sip of her tea.

"So how do you explain the fact that we are both sitting on proper chairs?" The Tianquan smirks at her, looking absolutely delighted over the top of the teacup. "Proper matching chairs."

Yelan blinks. 

Looking down, around the edge of the table, she realizes that Ningguang was right. Her lone dining chair had gotten a companion. It's shinier and newer, but otherwise an exact match for the one that Yelan had had for years. She had ordered one made a while back. Perhaps in a fever induced moment that she has forgotten about in her more lucid hours, but she had done so all the same. 

"It's hardly right to make the woman who saved my life sit on the floor," she replies dismissively. "And she refused to let me sit on the floor or the table because of my injuries."

"You could always just sit on her-"

"Do not!" Yelan hisses, quick to interject. She never knows when Shenhe might turn up. The woman had no real schedule except the rise and fall of the sun, and the growl of her stomach. "Finish that sentence! Or else next time I'm putting laxatives in your drink.” She glowers at the Tianquan over the edge of her bowl. 

"Next time?” Ningguang's smirk only deepens, so much so that Yelan wishes that she could just lean over and wipe it off her face. "You're going to invite me over again? My, my, how you've changed."

There’s a pause as Yelan scrutinizes the woman sitting in front of her. The woman that she has known the longest. The woman who has seen her at her worst, blood trailing from her fingers, the deaths of her entire team on her shoulders. “You’ve changed too.” 

“I assure you that I have not.” 

“You’re,” Yelan pauses, frowning as she struggles to find the words for it. “More candid. Relaxed even. We never used to talk like this.”

Ningguang pauses, considering everything with a frown. “I suppose we did not.”

“Looks like someone’s been a bad influence on you,” Yelan teases. Secretly, she’s glad that they have gotten to the point in their relationship that they can even have a conversation like this. “Maybe next time, I’ll see you in an eyepatch.”

“Absolutely not,” Ningguang huffs in mock offense. Her expression changes quickly into one of interest though, like a hunter spotting prey in the distance.

"I don't understand why you're suddenly being so shy about this. You've never been one to shy away from a pretty lady." Ningguang presses on. “The two of you clearly have something going on.”

Yelan groans, already regretting letting Ningguang in even though she knows full well that she had no real say in this matter. Instead, she pointedly begins leafing through the reports in front of her. Different rumours and bits of intel that she would have to check out. It’s been a long time since she’s needed to have so much time off. Her assistants were doing their best, but they weren’t here — that’s why they were her assistants after all. 

"And I don't know why you keep bringing this up,” Yelan shrugs, “You know I don’t do relationships anymore.”

“That’s bullshit,” Ningguang tells her. 

The sharpness in her tone in the way that she says that is startling, out of character from the graceful and poised woman that she always was. 

“You know exactly why I work alone,” Yelan murmurs, looking back down at the reports in front of her.  

“You can have your foolish reasons for working alone, but that doesn’t mean you have to live alone, or be alone for the rest of your life too.” Ningguang points the end of her pipe at her accusatorily. 

“I don’t know,” Yelan says with a long drawn-out sigh. 

“What are you afraid of? Is it commitment? Are you intimidated by Shenhe?” 

“No, and no. I just don’t know, okay?” 

But Yelan does know. She can still remember the grief that she felt when she lost someone dear to her. She has never shied away from pain, but the grief, the feeling of being hollowed out where she stood — she doesn’t know if she can do that again. She doesn’t know if she can anymore. 

Something in her expression must tip off Ningguang. She sets her hand down on the table, pipe swinging loosely around her thumb so that it bumps into Yelan’s wrist. A small gesture to know that Ningguang was still there, without being too overbearing. It’s a very Ningguang thing to do. 

“What if I don’t know how to be anything but me, just me — alone?”

“I think that’s all Shenhe would ask of you.” 

Shenhe sets down the last of the dishes on a table in front of Cloud Retainer. 

The adeptus looks approvingly at the fine spread laid out before her with a critical eye. “What a pleasant surprise, Shenhe. What brings you back here today? One thought you were getting along very nicely with the humans in Liyue Harbour.” 

“I am,” Shenhe says. She begins scooping portions of the food into the dishes in front of her master. 

“That’s good to hear. Hmm, no qingxin,” Cloud Retainer notes.

Shenhe shoots the Adeptus a look, “I collected all the qingxin around for Yelan.” 

“Ah yes,” Cloud Retainer, “The Chasm delver.”

“Her name is Yelan,” Shenhe says sharply, more than she intended. 

Cloud Retainer doesn’t seem to notice, beginning to eat the vegetable stir-fry topped with violetgrass with much gusto. Shenhe digs in too, picking at the vegetables and shredding the violetgrass with her chopsticks. The food is delicious — she can smell the spices and sauces, and the few bites that she does eat but she doesn’t really feel in the mood to eat it.

“What is the matter?” 

Shenhe looks up to find Cloud Retainer watching her carefully.

“Sorry?” 

“One can tell when you have something on your mind. You have brought one a veritable feast, you must need something from one such as oneself if you have come to these lengths.” 

Shenhe lets her shoulder slump a little. It’s uncanny how well her master knows her. Perhaps that’s what happens when Cloud Retainer has raised her since she was much younger.

“I’ve been feeling strange as of late.” 

This piques Cloud Retainer’s interest. “What do you mean strange? Do you think the afflictions from the Chasm are spreading?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Shenhe is quick to nip that idea in the bud. “It’s more like, sometimes when I’m with Yelan, I feel like I can see clearly. Like I can feel something else, something different.” 

“Like you can feel something?” Cloud Retainer looks concerned. “What can you feel?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way. I’m not sure what to call it. The feeling itself is not one that induces terror, quite the opposite in fact, but rather the fact that I am experiencing such things gives me great pause.” She doesn’t quite name the feeling yet. To give it a name would be too much acknowledgement right now. Not when she doesn’t know if she wasn’t even supposed to have this. That feels like it would hurt too much. 

Too much hope maybe. Another strange feeling for her. 

“Well, your ropes don’t appear to be loosening at all,” Cloud Retainer muses. “One believes that this is a natural phenomenon. The inhibitions of your emotions were an unfortunate side effect of the ropes. But if you are feeling an emotion strong enough to push past the bindings of your ropes, then one thinks that this is not something to be ignored.”

“Is this dangerous?” Shenhe asks quietly.

“On the contrary! Remember how your talisman spirit always seemed to be leading you back to her?” If Shenhe had to pick a descriptor for how the adeptus currently looked, it was that she looked inordinately pleased with herself. “I think you’ve figured out what it means — why you two seem to be led towards each other!” 

These words bring a sense of relief over Shenhe. She had been so worried that something was going wrong, scared to even ask about it because what if something really was going wrong and she’d be forced to give up this strange little feeling that has carved its way into her heart and she wasn’t sure that she would ever want to give it up. 

(If she ever could.)

“I am so proud of you,” Cloud Retainer continues on, completely unaware of the internal conflict that Shenhe has been waging all this time. “I knew that moving down to live in the harbour would be good for you. You were always wondering where or why you would stay in Liyue Harbour if you chose to stay there, and now you found both!”

She has been living in the harbour hasn’t she? Spending every night at Yelan’s house, in Yelan’s bed now. She eats meals at Yelan’s table, sitting in Yelan’s new dining chair, new cutlery in her hands. She chases the birds away from the tree near Yelan’s windows with her talisman spirit so that the other woman can rest undisturbed. She’s practically called the simple little house at the end of a quiet, unassuming street in the middle of Liyue her home for nearly a month and a half now — closer to two months. 

And in reality. It was her home. She spent most of her time there, or with Yelan. Even now, as Yelan is nearly completely recovered, Shenhe still lingers in her presence, content to be a safety net of sorts. For Yelan.

“So what will you do now?”

Shenhe looks at her master again, surprised. She has inadvertently tuned the adeptus out. 

“Sorry?”

“Now that you know that what you are experiencing is natural and not dangerous. What will you do?” 

Shenhe pauses, thinking hard about it. She thinks about the way that Yelan likes to be alone. How her house was built and furnished for her and her alone. How at ease she looks when she’s not coughing her lungs out, lounging about her space like a lazy cat basking in the sunshine. How she smiles at Shenhe when Shenhe makes the tea or brings her food. How there’s four chopsticks instead of three in the cutlery drawer, two pillows instead of one on the bed, two towels on the hanger instead of one, two dining chairs at the table instead of one. 

There’s a myriad of little things that have slowly changed around the house that Yelan has called home (and Shenhe has unknowingly called home as well). 

How she’s gone out of her way to make sure Shenhe belongs.

How she’s changed her space, her sanctuary, her refuge to fit an extra person. To fit her. To fit Shenhe.

The answer is obvious. 

“Go home.”

As much as Yelan hates to admit it, Ningguang was right. 

She starts to notice the little things. 

Modifications to her living space, her sanctuary that she had made. Maybe she had forgotten in the throes of her fever and illness. Maybe it was just so natural that of course these things would be here now, after all the time that Shenhe had been here — practically living here as Yelan recovered. 

There’s an extra set of dice next to her usual set on the shelf, blue crystals so pale that they are nearly white, carved into perfect little cubes and engraved with little pips to mark the numbers. She had seen them on one of her evening walks that she took with Shenhe and immediately purchased them. The way that the sheen of the dice glimmered in the sunlight reminded her of the way that Shenhe’s hair looked during the day — like the first frost that covered the ground, glistening in the early morning light. The way that they twinkled reminded her of the talisman spirit’s faint laughter that she is certain exists only to tease her. She had bought them so that Shenhe could join her in playing some games when their evening walks were interrupted for one reason or another. Multiple times, they have had to stop the talisman spirit away from flying off with the dice, fascinated by the little cubes.

In the corner there is a small garden of qingxin, some buoyed in large vases of water. Rocky soil piled high in pots and flat containers sit in a perfect square of sunlight that streams in through a large kitchen window like water over a waterfall. Yelan had felt bad that Shenhe was collecting every piece of qingxin on the mountains on a regular basis and took it upon herself to try to cultivate some in the house. 

Not that it matters much anymore, with her steady recovery, the need to drink qingxin tea and take medicine has also declined. She’s finally in her regular outfit again instead of her very comfortable pajamas.

Even her house was warmer. She doesn’t remember keeping the house at a higher temperature, but she had been so used to Shenhe or her talisman spirit no more than an arm’s length away most of the time, their icy presence a grounding feeling that she has subconsciously adjusted the temperature so that it was more comfortable. She fans herself a little bit with her hand. 

Her house is more comfortable with Shenhe in it rather than not. 

There are extra dishes, A second set of bowls and plates for dinner, the finest china, white with intricate blue designs flowing across the smooth surfaces like the current in a river — even an extra bowl because now it has become a strange habit for her to be sipping tea from the bowl, leaving Shenhe the teacup. 

In a strange way, her bowl has become a teacup. 

The two of them were kind of like the bowl and the teacup, she muses as she picks up the two from the counter where they were sitting, recently washed and dried. Alone in their own spaces but together, a functioning but odd pair. Carefully, Yelan examines the bowl that she has sipped tea from for so many times. It’s still a bowl, nothing has changed physically about it. It’s the same bowl that she has always had but it’s different all the same. 

Whether or not she has realized it, she is not so different from it.

Slowly, but seemingly all at once, she has adapted. Little things here and there, fine adjustments to her life to fit another. Like this bowl. Originally a bowl. Still a bowl.

Still a bowl, but part of a strange pair for tea.

It feels wrong to do anything but drink out of this bowl now — like she could eat rice and soup out of it like any other bowl, but to remove it from its pair….

If she was eating out of the bowl, she was probably drinking out of the teacup. That means Shenhe isn’t there.

Yelan frowns at the two dishes in her hands. The idea that Shenhe wouldn’t be there bothers her more than she thought it would. She’s nearly recovered from this unfortunate illness as well — that would mean Shenhe doesn’t really have a reason to come around any more. How would Shenhe react if she took Ningguang’s advice and just tell her about the feelings that had seemingly developed? Would she feel the same? Could she feel the same? Would she simply walk away, unwilling to put up with the complexities of whatever Yelan had going on?

Perhaps she should roll her lucky dice for answers. 

For someone who gathered intel for a living, she certainly did not really glean any information on Shenhe in this regard. The illness that she had been recovering from was to blame, she decides. If she wasn’t so off her game, she would have found out everything that she wanted to know and more by now. Vaguely, she’s aware of the feeling of the soft flesh of her lower lip pinched between her teeth as she’s lost in her thoughts.

If Shenhe didn’t come around anymore, she’d probably have to get rid of all these extra things that she has accumulated. A return to her previous state. 

How foolish she had been that she hadn’t noticed the biggest addition to her house staring her right in the face? There were two people who lived here now. And no matter what excuses she thinks of, she can’t call what she and Shenhe have been doing for the last month or so anything other than living together. 

In this house that had been a refuge for one once upon a time, now housed two.

She’s contemplating this so intensely, that she misses Shenhe return, opening the front door with the spare key that Yelan had given her so that she could come and go as she likes.

Would Shenhe just go now?

“Are you alright?” 

Yelan nearly drops the items in her hands in surprise. A cool hand on the small of her back steadies her, Shenhe easily crossing the kitchen in a few long strides. 

“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” Yelan says dismissively, trying not to let her previous thoughts show on her face. 

“If something is bothering you, you only need to let me know. I’ll get rid of it for you.” 

Ever so straightforward, it brings a smile to her face. Yelan really likes that about her still. Even after all this time, she still finds it slightly endearing. A small part of her wonders how Shenhe would respond if Yelan would say something. Something about whatever was happening between them, whatever was hanging over them. 

But she can’t find the words to say, caught in a web of her own thoughts. For someone who has prided herself on being able to say exactly the right thing at the right time to extract intel, she sure is bad at talking to Shenhe. Which doesn’t even make sense! It’s Shenhe. If anything, she should be the easiest person to talk to. 

Shenhe begins moving around the kitchen, as comfortable as ever in a space that was technically not hers but had become wholly hers while neither of them had noticed. She begins pouring the last dose of the medicine, kept in a small bottle in the fridge, into the bowl that Yelan had just set down. 

“Last one.” Expectantly, she holds it up to Yelan, the golden liquid inside beckoning to her. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Yelan takes the bowl and takes a tentative sip. It’s not terrible, she will admit. It’s just bitter, and it’s not like she hasn’t had worse tasting things before, but after drinking it for so long, it was just so boring.

Same old. Same old. 

That’s what made it so terrible. 

“I love you.”

Yelan nearly spits out the medicine. “Sorry?” She says, wiping a few drops of the stray medicine from her cheek.

Shenhe shrugs nonchalantly. “I love you.”

Yelan is rendered speechless. She needn’t have wondered or worried so much. Of course Shenhe would and could say it so casually like nothing else mattered, like she was commenting on the weather or the colour of the sky. Always efficient. There was no need to beat around the bush even for something like this. 

“You mean it?” 

“I don’t say things that I don’t mean.” 

“Oh,” Yelan pauses. Her mind flounders. “And you chose to say that right when I was taking my medicine?” 

That’s not what she really wanted to say. 

“You were making that face that you make when you find things to be too bland or boring. I thought it might help if I gave you something more interesting to consider. Though I didn’t think that you would stop taking your medicine.” Shenhe taps the bowl gently with a finger, nudging it back up towards Yelan’s lips.

Still too surprised, Yelan complies without complaint, downing the rest of the liquid in one gulp. She was right; it wasn’t so bad now, maybe even a little bit sweet. Taking her time, Yelan sets the bowl down on the counter, turning away from Shenhe as she did so. 

The cryo-wielder is watching her intently, and suddenly Yelan feels self-conscious under the force of her gaze. The brief turn away gives her enough of a reprieve to take a breath before turning back to her. 

“Just to make this clear. You love me? Like love love? Not like-”

“I’m in love with you.” Shenhe clarifies immediately, not waiting for her to finish her sentence. “I am unsure of when or why or how, only that I am. And I have not known another feeling so strongly that it rises about anything that binds me for as long as I can remember.” 

The force in which she states it is enough to knock a breath of laughter out of Yelan’s lungs. She is so certain, so sure, so Shenhe, that Yelan feels foolish for having worried how Shenhe would respond. She cuts straight to the matter, efficient in her ways as always. 

“If you do not feel the same….” There’s a glint in Shenhe’s eyes that Yelan can only interpret as the last thing the annoying birds outside had seen before her mornings were peaceful once again. She also knows that Shenhe is joking.

Mostly.

This was her chance. 

This was the point of no return. If her loneliness still desired, she could still back out, return to her former self, her former life. 

A part of her, a more cowardly part of her wishes that she could roll her lucky die at this moment. To give her at least a push. Even, she’d go through with this. Odd, she’d retreat. Her fingers twitch, itching to reach into her pocket and pull out the little cube. But she can’t. 

Not right now. 

Her thumb brushes over her palm.

Two.

It almost makes her jump, the feeling of a die in her hand when she can feel the solid weight of her lucky one in her pocket — the scar on her palm. 

Two. 

Two. 

Two ones, together but apart. Like the pips on a die. 

She doesn’t know what lies ahead, but that’s half the thrill, isn’t it?

And despite being lazier than a fat house cat in a wealthy household for the last month, Yelan still loves danger.

She loves Shenhe.

She doesn’t know when this happened, or how, or why. It hardly matters.

“No, no,” Yelan presses forwards, thumb skirting over the scar in her palm one last time. This scar led Shenhe to her once. She lets it lead her to Shenhe this time. “I do. I do feel the same. Archons, we’ve basically lived together for nearly two months. I wouldn’t have let you come anywhere close if I didn’t.” 

She pauses, fumbling with her words. She doesn't want to make this sound like an excuse or a caveat to her previous statement. “I just haven’t really had a proper relationship with anyone in a long time. Or even let anyone this close into my life. I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t really know what to do anymore with something this real.” 

Not some pretend thing that she has to take on for a mission.

This would be hers, and hers and Shenhe’s.

Shenhe lets out a soft exhale, suddenly looking surprised at her own action — like a puppy who suddenly discovered she could sneeze. It seemed she hadn’t realized how tense or anxious she was. 

“We do not have to do anything different. I do not fully understand everything happening myself. I have not had many over the years and to feel something so strongly concerned for a while. But I have come to terms with it, and if you are willing…” she looks off to the side, in what Yelan can only describe as a nervous fidget. 

When did Shenhe get nervous?

“Yes?” Yelan presses, taking a step closer to Shenhe. Not so close that she would crowd her, but enough to let her know that she wasn’t going anywhere, rather the opposite. 

Shenhe inhales, hand already reaching out for Yelan’s, and she is more than willing to meet her halfway in the space between them. “I’d like to give this relationship a try.”

“A try?” Yelan says wryly. “I don’t believe I have ever seen you try anything. You either do it or you don’t.”

“If you are in agreement. I will do it.” 

That brings a smile to Yelan’s face. “That’s not how relationships work, but I am in agreement.” She feels freer having said it. “I haven’t known how to be anything other than alone for a long time. So this may take some getting used to.”

She can feel Shenhe’s free hand come up, brushing a few stray hairs away from her eyes. Her lopsided bangs have only grown more unruly over the last while. She was going to have to get it trimmed soon. 

“I think that you were doing well, alone, with me.” 

There’s that familiar glint of a smile on her face, the twinkle in her eyes speaks nothing but volumes of fondness. Shenhe’s so close, close enough for Yelan to breathe in the scent of cold and qingxin and the faintest hint of steel and something a little darker — something that was uniquely Shenhe.

As infuriating as it was, perhaps Ningguang was right. Perhaps this was all she needed. 

Just Yelan.

And Shenhe.

“So what will we do now?” Yelan asks.

“I believe that you still owe me a dinner date, when you were late coming back from your last mission.” 

Yelan laughs, suddenly feeling far freer and gentle. “I guess you have been playing doctor for me for the last little while. I think I owe you more than one dinner date.” 

Shenhe smiles, tipping her head forwards like Yelan is the blazing fire against a dreary winter day and she wants to soak in all the warmth that she has to offer. 

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

“No? This sounds like a pretty bad deal for you.”

And Yelan tilts her head up a question on her lips, mere heartbeats away from an answer. Shenhe‘s lips presses against her own, cool to the touch but sparks of a flame race across her skin.

There’s the answer. 

It feels right, like the final piece of a mystery falling into place, the different obscuring strands and thoughts finally cleared away from her to see everything clearly. Yelan can feel the curve of Shenhe’s smile against her own lips. 

She’s still smiling as she pulls back slightly so she can look Yelan in the eyes. 

“You’ve already given me a home.”