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“Sailors! Feast your eyes!”
The crew aboard the Alcor are merry: the sea was kind, they’ve made good time, and they’re home for the best of Lantern Rite. The entire Harbour is brightly lit with threefold the standard number of ships already anchored at the docks.
Beidou takes her place at the stern. “Right! We weigh anchor in four weeks’ time. Go see your families, kiss your lovers, and don’t get too out of shape, or Juza,” she angles a thumb behind her, “will whip you back into it! Now enjoy the celebrations!”
There are lanterns lining the street and laughter ringing clear in the air.
When Beidou first meets her, she’s lingering by the food stalls, surrounded by a chorus of children’s voices—and Beidou can’t look away. The stranger is radiant, her hair neatly pinned in spiralling curls, and her dress is made of dripping gold—as if she once walked beside Rex Lapis himself.
And she’s holding a Mora meat. Any other plans for Beidou’s evening are swept away in an instant—she has to know the woman wearing a million-mora dress and eating street food with all the delicacy and appreciation befitting the finest Yue cuisine.
Beidou is wearing day-old clothes, a tan from long hours under the sun, and the bone-deep weariness that comes from extended time on sea rations. She takes stock of herself and thinks—well, I’ve seen worse odds through.
“Hey,” Beidou begins, warm and brave, “You know what they say about a woman in gold?”
The kids stop and stare, a nearby man gapes, and Beidou’s stranger blinks a few times before covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I don’t believe I do.” Her voice is clear and strong, and Beidou decides she’s the type of important that gives speeches; she speaks like she’s used to being heard.
“We should fix that.” Beidou offers her elbow and the promise of a leisurely stroll through the streets. It’s brash; there’s no way there aren’t already many bids for such a woman’s time.
She accepts anyway. “Lead the way, Captain.”
Beidou grins at the address. “Well! It seems you have me at a disadvantage.”
She inclines her head slightly with a mysterious smile. “Surely everyone in Liyue has heard the tales of your triumphs at sea.”
“The lads wrote a shanty I’ve been hearing nonstop since we last set sail.” Beidou shakes her head, but she’s too proud of them to be stern. “What’s your name? Can’t say I’ve seen you around before.”
“No?” She frowns, looking down at herself and murmuring, “Perhaps the dress...” A moment later, cool fingers smooth down the outside of Beidou’s bicep. “You may call me Ning.”
As they walk, Ning’s heels click in calm, even strides. She’s gorgeous—even her footsteps are appealing—and she seemed genuinely surprised Beidou didn’t already know her. Just who is she?
Before Beidou can linger on the question, Ning’s voice lilts in the air between them. “Tell me, do you often steal festivalgoers from their dinners?” Her tone is teasing, forward, and exactly what Beidou likes in a woman.
Beidou laughs. “Honestly? No. And—” She glances at her stomach ruefully, “I stole you away from mine, too. I was headed to Xiangling’s stall.”
“You prefer your fare on the spicy side, then?”
Beidou grins. “There’s nothing like it after weeks of sea rations.”
They turn the bend and continue up the incline toward Liyue’s main plaza, passing a few solitary people gazing upon the glow of the decorations. There is a crowd above, children squealing and the murmur of adult conversation. Beidou is pleased by it; Granny Shan’s stall always does well this time of year.
There’s a sharp tug on her arm, and Ning drags Beidou under the wooden walkway, hiding them from the rest of the Harbour. She presses a manicured nail to her lips as a group strolls by.
The sight of Liyue this time of year is always arresting, but Beidou’s attention is only for her companion. Ning’s eyes return to her once they are alone again, and Beidou notices tiny flecks of gold amongst the red so otherwise like her own.
Beidou brushes her palm across the gap where Ning’s dress parts at her lower back and tugs her in. Her lips are warm and dry, and as those cool fingers tighten around Beidou’s biceps, Beidou gets a taste of what is beneath the gloss she’s wearing.
This is not the delicate touch of a woman who has never done hard labour in her life. “So, what do they say about a woman in gold?” Ning murmurs against her mouth.
Beidou steals another kiss in lieu of answering and only stops when Ning cups her cheek and steps back.
Her flush makes her look younger. Beidou is deciding whether this observation would be well-received when a child’s voice calls out to them. “Lady Ningguang? Are you playing hide and seek?”
Lady Ningguang. The Tianquan of Liyue Harbour.
“Ning,” Beidou hisses, backing up. Her face feels hot. “You—! You lied to me!”
Ningguang shakes her head. “I did not, in fact.” She subtly smooths her hair before turning to face the child who called her name. “Everything is fine, Yiran. I was showing Captain Beidou around the Harbour for our festival.”
The young girl gasps, bringing her tiny hands to her mouth. “The Captain Beidou?! Feng won’t believe this!” She whirls and sprints back up the wooden incline, and Beidou pinches her fingers at the bridge of her nose.
It does make sense. A dress like that, her surprise at Beidou’s lack of recognition… and she’d known this Ning was someone important.
Ningguang is watching her when Beidou straightens herself back out. Kissing the Tianquan in a shaded corner… “Why didn’t you say anything?”
A hand comes up to obscure Ningguang’s lips. “I gave you a hint.”
“I thought you’d have…” Beidou throws her arms up, “I don’t know, the Millelith protecting you or something!”
Ningguang just raises a perfectly-arched brow. “Do you believe I cannot protect myself?”
Beidou hates being made a fool of. “I’ll leave you to your obligations, Tianquan,” she grits out.
Ningguang raises a hand and speaks quickly, “Let me make it up to you. The best location to observe the releasing of lanterns is a high one, and I can grant you access to the highest of all.” She extends the hand. “Join me in the Jade Chamber this evening.”
Beidou weighs her options under Ningguang’s unwavering gaze… and finally gives in.
“I’m expecting quite a view.”
Over the next month, they fall together.
Beidou grows to associate Ningguang with the gossamer hours of the morning, the taste of strong tea on glossed lips, and long blonde hair hiding on Beidou’s clothes. She becomes used to the way Ningguang hums when she’s thinking hard, the fact that she is particular about how her fish is grilled, and the combination of frustration and enjoyment with which she loses at chess.
It’s late evening, and they’re in the bath, and she’s so beautiful—it’s a shame there’s no way this can last. Beidou will always return to the sea, and Ningguang is a woman who keeps everything she loves on display in the Jade Chamber.
A wooden slat across the tub holds their chessboard, and as Beidou steals a pawn with her knight and strokes her fingers down the soap-soft ridge of Ningguang’s knee, Ningguang murmurs an admission.
“I’m developing a new game.” She moves her bishop.
Beidou makes an interested noise and moves her rook, eliminating the possibility of castling. “What’s it called?”
“Liyue Millennial. It’s…” Beidou can practically see her running over the business terms she’s no doubt used to hook potential buyers. Eventually, Ningguang simply states, “It’s a passion project.”
There’s only one reason she would bring it up now. Beidou deliberately doesn’t make anything big of it—Ningguang likely wouldn’t appreciate fanfare. “Show me a set of the rules and I’ll play you.”
“They’re still a work in progress.”
“There’s no rush,” Beidou says. It feels like a lie.
There’s an old sailor’s saying that when your heart gets away from you, so do your feet. Juza’s theory is that it originates from the old tales of sirens, where a firm footing was only as good as your ability to ward off temptation.
In the past, Beidou easily got carried away. It happens less now, with the warm responsibility of a crew and the best damn ship in Teyvat, with tempered years and a lot of lessons behind her.
If it was anyone but Ningguang, she thinks she’d stay composed. She’d pull off charming, if brusque. But it is Ningguang, so she’s a damn mess about it.
They fall apart the way they fell together: Ningguang dressed in fine clothes, a chessboard between them, and something inevitable about their argument.
Beidou raises her voice. “I’m not playing this game!”
“You’ve played just fine until now,” Ningguang scowls, crossing her arms. “I thought you’d enjoy going back to sea.”
“Stop screwing with me!” Beidou stands, chair skidding behind her noisily. “And stop acting like you don’t have some kind of motive for this!”
Ningguang’s voice is the same even volume, but at least she sounds as pissed as Beidou feels. “You’re being a child, Beidou.”
“At least have the guts to break up with me properly!”
She’s done; she’s been on land for too long, distracted by a beautiful, fickle woman. It’s time to clear her head with some sea air.
Ningguang can still hear the echo of Beidou’s leaving: a slammed door, a shouted curse, and the powder-dust shatter of a chess piece.
She sits and exhales a deliberate breath. It’s been a long time since anyone was so raw and unfiltered in front of her, and even longer since it wasn’t a direct outcome of a calculated series of moves.
She finds herself staring at the doorframe, wondering what it was that had caused such a meltdown. It couldn’t have been from losing their game, or Beidou would have wrecked the set after the first few times Ningguang swept her way to easy victory. But if it wasn’t chess…
A knock at the door has Ningguang rising, “Come in,” falling from her lips before she fully registers the pattern as nothing like Beidou’s harsh knuckle-raps.
“Tianquan?” Keqing is looking at her, eyebrows high.
Ningguang has seldom pulled herself together so quickly. “Come in,” she repeats, “And don’t mind the mess. Beidou and I had… something of a disagreement.”
It’s clearly an understatement, but Keqing simply nods, and whatever she observes remains unspoken. She closes the door behind her, eyes tracing the new looseness of the hinges, and then she shifts topic to the latest reports on Inazuma’s imports, and there is no room for thoughts of Beidou and chess and arguments.
Ningguang needs to secure Liyue’s market advantage in the coming season.
As it always does, her work reorients her, and many hours later, when the moon is high in the sky, and Keqing finally sits back to wipe a loose strand from her brow with a sigh, she decides it’s time to address the events of her morning.
She takes parchment and pen outside. Moonlight spills over the page as she writes a summons, addressed with a flourish at the top: To Beidou.
Ningguang has always been of the opinion that a person’s handwriting speaks to their character. Accordingly, she spent years crafting hers with elegant formality until the strokes could reveal nothing of her origins.
By contrast, Beidou has a crass hand. Sometimes she’s busy, and the characters become misshapen halfway through. Sometimes she’s been drinking, and the text grows progressively slanted.
This time, they’re dark, like she’d been pressing too hard as she wrote.
Take your business elsewhere, Tianquan.
Ningguang sets the letter aside and attempts to move on with her day, making a mental note to inform Baiwen such missives need not be passed on to her again. But she stares and stares and stares, and her focus will not shift back to the legalities of Cor Lapis imports.
So, she tries to respond.
An hour later finds her pacing the length of the room. This is no rousing speech, no legal amendment, no contractual negotiation. She cannot so easily define the terms and limitations of her heart.
The space between her and Beidou is increasingly undefined, and Ningguang has never been one to invest when she isn’t sure to win.
Beidou won’t answer her summons. So be it. Ningguang will find a way to make her.
Her first order of business is to hit the Crux where they’ll feel it most: their mora. Ningguang places a careful series of orders and acquires a mass quantity of Noctilucous Jade under the name of the Liyue Qixing. She does this as publicly as possible, from openly bidding on the Feiyun Commerce Guild’s stock to visiting The Jade Mystery herself to examine Shitou’s wares.
When asked, she simply cites an increased demand for carving materials with the impending visitation of a Teyvat-renowned jewelsmith—and her competitors respond perfectly: those who do not claim outright to have foreseen this shift in the market scramble to acquire before prices soar.
It is inevitable, of course, that once resources inland are depleted, they turn to overseas imports and those who can ship the goods.
Keqing only asks Ningguang once about her plan for all this jade, and when Ningguang just smiles slyly, she sighs and abandons the topic to the latest Treasure Hoarder reports out of Qingce.
Soon after, with jade saturating the market, Ningguang lets slip a rumour that the jewelsmith only works with the highest quality materials. A consultant from Wangsheng proves particularly useful when he inadvertently passes on explicit knowledge of how to analyse the grade and value of such a stone, and within the day every layman in the city is an acting expert.
The Ministry of Civil Affairs reports that the sailors are disgruntled, complaining of their cuts of profit dropping drastically. To this, Ningguang simply replies that they should have been more discerning with their trade. But in the name of goodwill, she makes her offer: she will personally purchase—at the current inflated price—all lower-quality jade from the first twenty ships to dock in the Harbour.
After all, Ningguang knows that jade is a finite resource, and in five years she anticipates the value of all grades to soar. It is an investment that requires nothing but time to benefit from.
Baiwen brings her the results. There were eight ships already in the Harbour, ten more in queue before sundown, and the nearest ship in the Crux Fleet isn’t expected for almost a week.
But where Ningguang anticipated Beidou’s reaction to be similar to the others—open frustration at the loss of profit—she instead finds no trace of any jade-related transactions after their arrival.
Keqing muses aloud. “It would appear Captain Beidou had a similar idea. We’ve heard the Crux has stored their entire supply and resumed regular business.”
Ningguang has to applaud Beidou; it seems it will take more than this to get under her skin.
Four days later, the craftsman arrives to a Liyue full of self-proclaimed experts in the quality of jade, and therefore in carvings made from the material. Ganyu grimly conveys his utter bewilderment and rapid departure as Ningguang suppresses her amusement.
As the old saying goes, “The walls have ears,” and they are Ningguang’s. Her actions mollified the majority of the sailors, but Ningguang is highly conscious of her people’s opinions, and so it is with this in mind that she makes her next move.
There are a number of docks in the Harbour that are old, their wood water-swollen and heading towards rot. There have been no incidents yet, but children often play nearby, and Ningguang does not wish to take chances.
So she imposes a series of docking curfews. Overnight, the number of ships the Harbour can accommodate at any given time drops by half, and the word is spread that the Ministry of Civil Affairs and the Qixing are focused on repairing and rebuilding each to a higher standard.
It’s a short-term inconvenience, but the gamble pays off. Her young insiders share the praise coming from each ship that unloads. “That Ningguang is looking out for us after the whole Jade business.” “About time we got some new docks around here.” “I’m not a fan of curfews, but this is good handiwork.”
Over that week, the tradesmen rebuild and enhance every dock in Liyue—and two days before project completion, the Alcor finally joins the lengthy queue of ships.
“What is the latest on our rebuilding efforts?” Ningguang asks of Keqing.
“It’s been smooth sailing, if you’ll forgive the analogy. There haven’t been any complaints formally lodged, and by all accounts the goodwill towards the Qixing has significantly increased.”
“No complaints at all?”
Keqing flips the page with a hum. “Some of the tradesmen were seconded for another job, but the foreman insisted it wouldn’t affect timelines.”
“What was the other job?”
“It looks like… the creation of an additional dock. All the paperwork was expedited and approved, and we had the requisite space, so— oh.” Keqing cuts herself off.
Ningguang doesn’t make a habit of asking questions she already knows the answer to. “It’s the Alcor.”
Keqing’s gaze is entirely too knowing.
Ningguang waits until she is alone before she expresses her exasperation. Perhaps she should have seen such an outmanoeuvring coming—after all, the number of individuals who have beaten her at chess currently sits at one.
Along with the updates on public opinion, her informants pass on another detail: this new dock features an installed bucket for fish and other food scraps, and is a new favourite for the strays that run about the harbour.
Ningguang pushes her teacup back and forth with the pad of a finger and contemplates the feeling of falling for a woman whose heart is big enough to contain the whole ocean, big enough that she still blames herself for the death of a half-starved dog, and surpassed only by her unerringly and uniquely irritating wit.
She’ll need to come up with something better if she’s going to get Beidou’s attention.
Ningguang knows the way rarity increases something’s worth, so she makes herself invaluable. Her time has never been easy to get—now it is nigh-impossible. She tackles mountains of work as she writes new amendments to Rex Lapis’ laws, and as she plans her next move, the ripples from her recent transactions continue to pay off.
The sailors are thrilled with the harbourfront, and Keqing has her hands full of requests from other groups in the city petitioning for similar attention.
“You’ve started a landslide.” Keqing sets a thick stack of pages atop Ningguang’s desk. “There is talk in the streets about implications.”
Ningguang reaches for her cup of tea with a small smile. “So I’ve heard. There are merchants claiming it must mean Liyue’s investment in oceanic import will increase over the coming year.”
Keqing’s lips twitch. “Given our recent moves in agriculture, I suppose that is an intentional misdirection?”
“Naturally.”
There is a bruise on the inset of Ningguang’s index finger where she sometimes puts too much pressure while writing. It’s a habit that creeps up when she’s too tired to pay attention, and it aches now with a reminder she chooses to ignore. She’ll rest later while her next plan unfolds.
Baiwen greets Keqing as she enters. “Lady Ningguang. The compilation you requested is ready.”
“Good. Keqing, I’ll leave the initial sorting of these in your capable hands.”
Ningguang follows Baiwen around the staircase. As she walks, she catches the glint of low light off her heels, reflecting on the pools of water. Perhaps a change of wardrobe could help her feel more refreshed. It has been some time since she commissioned a new dress.
“Ah, Yanfei, thank you for waiting.”
Standing just outside the entrance to the Jade Chamber, the young adeptus is smiling bright and wide. “Of course! This was an auspicious opportunity. I’m happy to accommodate our mutually busy schedules.”
Ningguang likes her almost immediately—but then, she’s always been fond of the highly competent.
Yanfei presents a series of documents from her satchel with a decisive nod. “This is a complete listing of the Crux’s every legal infraction dating back for the last three years.” There are only ten sheets, but the print is tiny and precise, divided into two columns per page. “Nothing I couldn’t handle!”
“Thank you, Yanfei. You will receive the payment directly through our financial channels."
“If you ever have need of future legal services, you have my business card,” Yanfei offers with a wide, satisfied grin.
Ningguang tunes out the rest of the pleasantries as she contemplates how best to proceed. This is a strong bargaining chip and more than enough to finally bring Beidou to her doorstep.
“Um, Lady Ningguang?”
She looks up to find Ganyu wringing her hands. “Yes, Ganyu?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s something urgent I need to bring to your attention.”
“She did what?”
“Yes, I actually learned of it myself while on the way to—ah, nevermind that, I simply wanted to ensure you knew as fast as possible.”
Ningguang steeples her fingers, looking at the evidence spread out on her desk. “That irritating woman,” she mutters distractedly.
For the most part, the mainland work the Crux is contracted for is in the Qingce region. This time, they've been hired by one of Ningguang’s competitors to distribute improved equipment for the miners in Lingju Pass—a mere week before the Qixing intended to launch a near-identical project.
Baishi calls her name. “The tailor you requested has arrived.”
Ningguang doesn’t have time for this now, but before she can dismiss him, Keqing steps in.
“Lady Ningguang, with all due respect, I think it’s best we strategise to spin this in our favour. Why don’t you keep your appointment and I’ll put together a spread of the facts we have on Mr. Liang?”
Ningguang sighs. “Your logic is as impeccable as always, Keqing.”
Keqing inclines her head, and Baishi barely contains a squeal. As usual, she’s even more excited about the addition to Ningguang’s wardrobe than Ningguang herself.
“...Very well, Baishi, let’s go see the man. We both know how he feels about being kept waiting.”
They form plan A, plan B, and plan C. In the end, none of them are necessary.
There is an incident in the mines. The workers unearth a strange, glowing rock, and all within that tunnel fall into a coma that persists despite the attention of Liyue’s top medical professionals. The Qixing immediately block all access to the Chasm’s mines as Keqing works all night to source geologists of various specialties to analyse findings and research similar historical events.
Needless to say—it doesn’t matter who was financing the mining equipment anymore.
Ningguang manages to quell the panic, prepare custom worker’s pensions for the families of the affected, and issue a statement that the investigation will continue until all have awoken. Finally, in the very early hours of the morning, Baiwen brings one more report to Ningguang’s attention.
“Lady Ningguang, I’m sorry to disturb you now, but you previously requested updates on this subject.”
Ningguang quells the sigh that longs to escape her. She wearily waves Baiwen on. “Go ahead.”
“It’s one of the victim’s families—they’re declining our money.”
“Have they said why?”
“They’re already being compensated by the Crux.”
It takes a moment for the pieces to align, for old conversations to resurface and click. She remembers warm lips on her shoulder and sea-calloused fingers sliding the strap of her dress up as they discussed the life of a Crux sailor.
“It’s dangerous, naturally,” Beidou said, “so we ensure anyone who gets seriously injured is compensated for the rest of their days.”
…One of the men must have been Beidou’s.
As if the thought was a summons itself, the Jade Chamber’s front door slams open, and Ningguang knows her guest’s identity before a hint of that throaty voice reaches her ears.
“Ningguang!”
“Let her in,” Ningguang quietly orders, taking a moment to assess the picture she’ll make, surrounded by stacks of loose papers, a long-cold tea at her side, and exhaustion lining her face.
It’s not ideal, but she can work with this—it will make the truth more believable.
“Ningguang!” Beidou repeats, storming towards her. “What are you doing about that crazy rock? I’ve got a man down and a spooked crew, and the most I’ve been able to get from the Qixing is that the situation is being handled!”
She airquotes the end of her sentence furiously, and it’s such a Beidou gesture that Ningguang has to smother her smile behind her hand.
She stands as steadily as her weary limbs allow. “Captain Beidou. I’m sure you know there are protocols for such a visit?”
“Oh, damn your protocols,” Beidou says, eyes bright. “If you didn’t want me up here, I wouldn’t have been able to reach the front door.”
Ningguang’s lips twitch against the back of her hand. “Take a seat.”
Beidou shakes her head, “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s no need to be rude.” Ningguang turns a sheet to face Beidou. “We’ve already hired leading experts in meteorology from Sumeru and a team of widely-acclaimed petrologists from Fontaine. That is what the Qixing mean by handled.”
Beidou opens her mouth, but before she can comment, Ningguang holds up a hand and continues. “—And we are not sitting idly. We won’t risk further casualties until there is a solution for those who still sleep.”
Beidou’s frustration has eased into a grim expression. “Well, fine, you’ve brought in the right people for the job. What am I supposed to do about my sailor?”
“I can sympathise, Captain, but I do not have answers for you at this time.”
Beidou sighs and turns, clearly about to leave. Ningguang could let her go—it would be appropriate, after such an event, to delay this other conversation—but it’s taken this much to bring Beidou back here, and Ningguang will not let this opportunity pass by.
“Captain, while you’re here…”
“You’re not serious! All this, and you want to talk about fines?”
Ningguang doesn’t waver. “The law does not wait for the world to be a calm, sane place. You of all people should know this, Beidou.”
Beidou curses and throws Yanfei’s report atop Ningguang’s desk. “I’ll pay, but it’s damn low of you—”
“I have an offer,” Ningguang interrupts. Beidou’s eyes narrow, but she crosses her arms and waits. “I don’t expect any leads for our strange rock or coma victims to be limited to Liyue’s borders.”
Beidou’s glare softens as her brow goes up. “You want to hire the Crux?”
“No,” Ningguang clarifies. “I want to hire you.”
There is a moment of pause between them before Beidou sets her hands on her hips and demands, “Why?”
Ningguang shrugs, as if this is not so telling a statement. “Simple. I can trust you.”
Eventually, even news like this settles. The miners are dejected, but the Chasm is firmly closed until the researchers can make headway. Beidou never expected to be working directly with the Tianquan of Liyue, but life is full of surprises of late.
The crew laughs wildly in the night, and Beidou is lord of this perfect domain. It’s more than she ever thought she’d know: ruling over the Crux and the Alcor.
But Ningguang used to set her hands gently against Beidou’s arms before they kissed. Beidou never asked if she liked the warmth, or if it was just her biceps.
A woman like that? She wouldn’t have let Beidou walk out if she hadn’t wanted her to. Right?
She’s spent years trying to rationalise the image of that Ningguang with the one who slept so soundly in her arms, and now to know she holds Ningguang’s trust?
This is hardly something Beidou can solve herself—and she certainly isn’t going to bring it up with Ningguang—so instead, she finds ways around the Tianquan’s careful legal amendments, using underhanded tactics and loopholes to smuggle contraband. Each time Ningguang inevitably amends the laws, Beidou sits with them, and plots, and the game continues.
Beidou knows Ningguang would never be satisfied with someone who couldn’t push her right back, who couldn’t grow alongside her and keep her on her toes. And they’re mostly fine, working together and growing their mutual empires, all the way up until life throws another impossibility right in Beidou’s face.
Of all the events to upset the status quo, Osial rising from the sea hadn’t even made her list. Which is foolish because of course Beidou’s reckoning with gods hadn’t ended with Haishan.
It’s only fickle luck that has the Alcor out of the way when the Jade Chamber goes down, but Beidou still has a front seat to it all. She watches Liyue’s own symbol of might sacrifice itself in the name of protection, and her stomach sinks.
If Beidou has learned anything over the years, it’s that she and Ningguang aren’t as different as she once thought. And a Captain always goes down with her ship.
She races through the streets until she finds her on the shore. The wreckage of Ningguang’s home lies strewn around her where she stands, staring out at the water.
Keqing nods at Beidou when she gets close and walks away to discuss something with a foreman. Smart woman.
“Ningguang.”
Ningguang’s voice carries a dream-like quality when she speaks. “When I was young, I used to stand just like this—the half-wet shore beneath my feet, a handwoven bag of shells in my hand, my hair wavy from the salt. I used to sell them for mora.”
Finally, she turns, and Beidou has seen shock enough times to recognise it on her pretty features. “Did I ever tell you that?” She looks back and murmurs. “Cleaning this up will be no small task.”
Ningguang never spoke about her life before she became the Tianquan, but Beidou also never asked. She’s impressed, a bit terrified, and a lot attracted to the kind of relentless drive it takes to sacrifice one home to save another.
Beidou doesn’t know what to say. A chuckle hiccups from her throat, and like a dam bursting, she begins to laugh. She wipes her wet eyes as her diaphragm contracts, and swallows hard before the laughter becomes something else. Her vision is still blurry when she blurts, “Fuck, I thought you were dead.”
She takes her into her arms without another thought and feels the words spoken against her shoulder. “I never expected to outlive the Jade Chamber.”
There are a hundred places Ningguang could go, a hundred people who would readily open their doors for her—but Beidou invites her back to the Alcor anyway, away from prying eyes and ears and anyone who could spin this to their personal advantage.
Even after all these years, Ningguang has never been onboard before.
They met beneath lanterns, the night Ningguang dressed in gold, and Beidou never did tell her what that means. Now, in the Captain’s Quarters, with Liyue and Ningguang both slumbering and safe, she whispers the answer aloud.