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Zhongli woke up to a white ceiling in an unfamiliar room that smelled faintly antiseptic and bitter. Immediately, he recognized that this place was a hospital—Bubu Pharmacy, perhaps?—but had no clue as to why he would be there in the first place.
He hummed thoughtfully, pulling himself up. It was not as if normal healing could heal him, nor could any normal occurrence have been enough to send him to need healing in the first place. Regardless, there was a myriad of things that immediately had Zhongli ill at ease despite the quiet calm that permeated the room.
Despite being renowned for his ability to recall even the most minute details from millennia ago, he could not place how exactly he found himself disoriented and tucked into a hospital bed. His attempts to pry the information from his head were for naught. They were just gone. Zhongli’s brow furrowed, and he frowned, taking into account one last discrepancy: his gnosis. What was once a familiar, albeit foreign, feeling of power thrumming at the core of his being was simply… gone.
He blinked, stunned. Perhaps the answer as to why was in his memories—forgotten as it was. Zhongli took a moment to consider if it was an issue. Liyue was still standing—from the familiar sounds of the harbor right outside his window and the comforting thrum of geo-energy straight from the ground—and, as far as he could tell, would continue to stand even if he were not in power. The gnosis was not a necessary part of him, and without the weight of responsibility, it brought… It felt liberating. Even so, he trusted himself to know what was best for the time, so he promptly wrote it off, ready to address it when it was less pressing.
Zhongli inclined his head, eyes catching on someone else in the room. He tilted his head. How peculiar. Had he grown so old that his instincts had grown dull? Not even a prickle of apprehension despite not recognizing the soft ginger curls that rested on the side of his bed. Zhongli hummed, eyes tracing the soft lines of youth and the minute fluttering of auburn eyelashes against freckled cheeks.
Against all better judgment, he reached forward, hand ghosting along the curve of this stranger’s cheek. Before he even had a chance to lay a hand on him, a hand snapped to his wrist in a tight grip. Zhongli didn’t even flinch.
Amber met blue—dull like stagnant pond water, he notes—in a tense stare. As if he had not been sleeping just a moment ago, gone was the soft and sleepy veneer and replaced by what Zhongli could recognize anywhere. It was the hard, carefully measured stare of a warrior.
How fascinating.
They stared at each other for a beat before this stranger’s face colored with recognition, hard lines melting away into overwhelming relief. He let go of his wrist as he stood up from his chair in a rush to get to him. Zhongli was startled at the sudden shift in atmosphere as hands found their way to his shoulders, bringing their faces closer. Strong but gentle fingers tilted his head around, eyes roving across his face in a cursory inspection. Fingers burned on his skin, and in such proximity he could smell the other man—his sweat, his detergent, his soap, and the unmistakable smell of old blood.
The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head and pulling away. “I know you used to be an archon, but you scared me,” he said hotly.
Zhongli could only blink, somehow unsurprised he knew that he was Rex Lapis yet handled him with an unexpected casualness. “I apologize,” he said, finding the need to be polite. “I did not mean to cause such distress.”
“Distress is an understatement,” he said, clicking his tongue. He received a long look before the man’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “Don’t think I’ll forgive you for this so easily, Zhongli! What would the harbor have thought had I brought the esteemed funeral parlor consultant to his death?” he said, eyes too tender and voice too teasing to be taken seriously.
He could not help it. Zhongli felt a touch of amusement at this charming young man with his creased uniform and dull, tired eyes. He looked like he had not left his bedside the entire time. Zhongli was touched. “Not well, I’d assume?”
The man huffed but, nevertheless, smiled, “That’s putting it lightly. They would have run me out of Liyue for real this time.” He finally pulled away as if realizing just how close they were at that moment, pale cheeks flushing. “Okay, I’m going to get Dr. Baizhu. Tell him that you’re awake and all. Don’t—I don’t know!—go back to sleep while I’m gone!”
Zhongli watched him leave, the door hastily shut behind him and the telltale echo of footsteps echoing off. He was left alone with his thoughts once more as he attempted to figure out what had just occurred.
It was comforting to know that he still went by the name of Zhongli. Most of his memory was intact. Dimly, he realized that he did not even know that man’s name, much less how they knew each other. They were close. The mortal fussed over him despite knowing he was thousands of years older than him, and the softness of his eyes as he looked at him was more than just kindness.
He pressed a hand to his chin, humming thoughtfully. A friend, perhaps? Guizhong would be amused and proud that he found a friend in a mortal, but it was not out of the question. However, the man was idiosyncratic—actions so unlike one would go for a friend—so perhaps they were a lot closer than expected. He recalled another time that someone had treated him that gently with genuine worry in their eyes and the fear of god at their every jerky movement.
His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened again as a slight man with green hair tied and flowing over his shoulder strode in. At his heels, the mortal he was just contemplating. They both joined him at his side, one sinking to reclaim his spot at his bedside and the other with a clipboard he was examining with an imperceptible expression.
“Ah, hello Mr. Zhongli,” the man said, looking up from the top of his lenses. “It appears you are well. Would you mind? I would like to do a cursory check of any of your injuries.”
Zhongli nodded his assent, figuring out quickly that this man was a doctor, if he remembered correctly, was named Dr. Baizhu. For a moment, he turned to his companion, who was looking at the doctor with a carefully blank look, but his eyes remained sharp. When their eyes met however, the blue softened with undeniably fond relief. How strange.
Dr. Baizhu’s inspection of him was clinical and efficient—checking his bandages with a firm hold and his pupils for any sign of concussion, he’d assume—before he finally stepped away. “Despite sustaining a traumatic brain injury that would have killed most men, you seem perfectly fine,” he said, his smile too wide and voice too keen. “I would have thought you were a god with how exceptional your recovery was.”
Traumatic brain injury? Zhongli frowned. In his many years, he has experienced his fair share of injury, but enough to cause memory loss? He supposed he never found out how extensive the damage was or if it was due to his lack of gnosis, but it felt too simple an explanation. “It was an exceptional recovery,” he said, tilting his head.
“Beyond exceptional,” a hiss made itself known, and Zhongli’s gaze snapped to Dr. Baizhu’s neck at the red eyes peering at him with unmistakable intelligence. Changsheng, his mind helpfully supplied, gave him a slow, carefully measured blink. “Some would say a miracle.”
“Xiansheng’s shield likely mitigated some of the damage,” his friend (?) piped up, diverting some of the curiosity with a minute shake of a brown pouch at his belt. It gave a soft jingle, accentuating the implication of such a tiny gesture. “Vision wielders are sturdier than most, after all.”
Baizhu’s eyes gleamed as he said with his voice ever chipper, “Of course, of course. Regardless of any fortunate happenstance, I found nothing wrong with you. I have no reason to keep you any longer. I can discharge you today.”
Next to him, the man visibly perked up, face almost immediately brightening at those words. He grinned excitedly at Zhongli, who tilted his head with a brief nod, “Ah, thank you, Dr. Baizhu. You have my deep gratitude.”
“Speak nothing of it,” Dr. Baizhu said, his genial smile never faltering.
“Especially if it gets the harbinger out here faster,” Changsheng said, her voice ringing in from her spot on Baizhu’s neck to throw a glance at his companion. “He never really left your bedside, did he?”
Zhongli looked at him just in time to see him pinken, embarrassment coloring his cheeks and ears with a bright flush. Baizhu laughed, waving her off, “Ah, don’t mind her teasing, Childe. It was just a jest. Regardless, payment is still in order. I think 5 million mora would suffice, wouldn’t it? Especially considering the stay.”
Childe—Zhongli finally had a name to attach to his face—gave a tight smile, “Five million mora? Isn’t that a little too expensive?”
“Is there ever really a price exorbitant enough for healthcare?” Baizhu said, placing a hand on his face in thought. “But, fine. I can give you a deal. Four million, nine hundred and ninety-nine mora. Lowest price, guaranteed.”
Childe opened his mouth again, ready with a rebuttal at the tip of his tongue, but Zhongli spoke first when he realized, “Ah, it appears I don’t have my wallet on me.”
Childe looked at him and sighed, “Just bill it to Northland Bank.”
“Of course. Thank you for your patronage.”
The two of them left Bubu Pharmacy within the next hour—Childe had a set of his clothes tucked away neatly by his bedside—and left for Wanmin restaurant for a meal. Fortunately, Zhongli remembered Wanmin and could confirm that the clothes that Childe had handed him were indeed his own. It was a comfort to no longer be in a hospital gown and instead wearing his familiar suit. It made the situation a little less bizarre.
Their walk from the Pharmacy to Wanmin was uneventful. Liyue hardly changed from last he remembered. The steps they took and the ponds they crossed to leave Yujing Terrace. Childe walked around the streets with an unprecedented familiarity, as if he had already lived here for years. Zhongli had no reason to doubt him, considering Childe also spoke the language quite well despite the unmistakable accent curling around the more delicate pronunciations.
It was even more apparent when he noticed Childe nodding along as he rambled a little on the cultural reason for ponds in places like Liyue and Inazuma. “How about the flowers?” He asked, tilting his head a little to look at the sprinkling of decorative pink and yellow flowers floating amidst the lotuses.
“Typically, ponds and gardens in Liyue are deliberately designed in such a way to depict a specific atmosphere,” Zhongli said, cupping his chin with his fingers. “These flowers are used to set the atmosphere and to contrast with the harsh architectural lines of the surrounding walls. Most gardens in Liyue marry the natural elements and the ornate buildings surrounding it.”
Childe chuckled a little, “Oh, I remember now! You already told me this, Xiansheng.”
“Ah, did I?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I don’t mind hearing it again.”
Zhongli hummed. While Liyue hardly changed, Childe made it very clear that there were more details he was missing. Wherever they went people seemed to know him despite his clearly foreign looks. Most notably, there was a very obviously tense air of distrust and trepidation wherever they went. They were focused entirely on Childe, who continued on his way whilst completely unbothered.
Once they stepped into the Liyue market, some tenseness in the air dissipated as the merchants tried to grab their attention. Many saw them walk past, waving in their direction and hollering about the wares they had in stock. And Zhongli had no intention of buying anything.
At first.
Zhongli held up a truly magnificent piece of jewelry—a bracelet—with dull silver masterfully wrought into a trim braid, interlaced with cor lapis and noctilucous jade. While it looked unappealing at first glance—pretty in a way, yes, but to the untrained eye would be entirely ignored—its stones gleamed the brightest, and the craftsmanship was unparalleled. “Ah, the make of this. Exquisite.”
The shopkeeper smiled, eyes crinkling in genial satisfaction, “That’s one of our best pieces, actually. You have quite the eye, Mr. Zhongli, but I suppose I should have expected it. That will be twenty thousand mora.”
Zhongli patted his breast pocket, frowned, then moved for his pants pocket. Still nothing. “Ah, it appears I’ve forgotten—” He began but was interrupted by a small bag of mora being dropped right in front of the shopkeeper before he could even finish his sentence. It took a moment for him to realize that she hadn’t been staring at him expectantly when she cited the price but at Childe.
“That should cover it, yeah?” Childe said with an easy smile as the shopkeeper opened the bag with a grin, sharp eyes surreptitiously counting the coins.
“More than covers it, Master Childe,” she said as she resealed the bag. “It’s always nice to see the two of you out and about, as usual.”
“Is it us that you enjoy seeing or my mora?”
“It’s always a delight to see Mr. Zhongli when he remembers to pay, of course.”
“So when I’m around, you mean,” Childe said with a charming smile.
The shopkeeper laughed, wrapping up their purchase, “Well, Liyue’s happy couple is always welcome at my shop.”
Happy couple?
“We’re not—”
She finished wrapping up their purchase before he could continue, placing the bracelet delicately onto his hands. “Here you go, Mr. Zhongli. Come again soon!” She waved, and Zhongli tilted his head slightly as they left, heading towards Wanmin. He turned to his companion, noting his flushed cheeks and stiff shoulders.
“Are you okay, Childe?” he asked, a little concerned.
Childe shook his head after a beat as he said, “Me? Of course, I’m fine.”
Zhongli nodded, accepting this when he noticed that Childe really had calmed down a little. Perhaps what the shopkeeper said was embarrassing? A happy couple, she said. Did that mean what he thought it meant? Zhongli narrowed his eyes, dismissing it for now.
“I will have to apologize, of course, since I will not be able to pay for anything when we eat,” he said sheepishly.
Childe just laughed, “No worries. It’s my treat!”
They arrived at Wanmin restaurant after buying a couple more things, paid for by Childe. They were greeted by Xiangling, who was older and taller than he remembered. Old enough where she now helped around the kitchen instead of watching her father and manning the counter. Ah, so a couple of years really have elapsed since he could last remember.
“Hi, Xiangling!” Childe greeted her with a wave, catching her attention. She waved right back a little more enthusiastically.
“Childe, Mr. Zhongli! Long time no see! Will you be having the usual?” she asked, leaving the kitchen for a moment to greet them.
“Yes, and some tea would be lovely,” he replied with a small smile as he took a seat near the back of the restaurant with Childe following behind him. “Thank you, Xiangling.” She nodded, already off to cook their order. Personally, Zhongli was curious to see if his usual order had changed.
It didn’t take long before their food arrived, steaming tea already cradled in his hands and the familiar smell of his usual order wafted upwards. Just like Liyue, this did not change. Instead, what had changed was the little things; the double servings of each of the entrees, the extra helping of golden shrimp, and the frowning Snezhnayan man sitting across from him whilst staring at the box on the table.
At his staring, Childe lifted it higher for him to see the expensive-looking lacquered box more clearly as he said, “See Xiansheng. I’m actually still using the gift you gave me that I had to pay for.”
He removed the top and took them out, fumbling with them a little. And there, in Childe’s wrongfully put-together grip, were a pair of chopsticks. While that, in itself, was not enough to stop him short, it was the design and the symbolism that took him by surprise. And the fact that he gifted them to him in the first place.
Childe’s presence at his bedside, the knowing looks and teases from everyone in the harbor, the lack of hesitance when it came to paying, the genuine concern, and the fact that he knew who he actually was. These all pointed to them being close, but this last piece of evidence. Suddenly, everything made sense.
Without thinking, Zhongli asked, “We’re married, yes?”
Childe choked on his food just as he was about to put a piece of shrimp in his mouth. He wheezed, taking a moment to catch his breath from the shock. For a moment, Zhongli was genuinely concerned, but that moment quickly passed when Childe calmed down. He leaned back, staring at him in bewilderment as he tried to process what he said. The blanket of silence that descended on them was a vacuum that ate up the easy air between them. Zhongli frowned, suddenly unsure.
“Married?!” Childe eventually yelped, turning around quickly as if to check that the people in the restaurant didn’t just hear them blaspheme—as if Zhongli could blaspheme himself—with his eyes wide and ears bright pink. Zhongli tilted his head—was his assumption incorrect? Have the bounds of acquaintanceship changed since he last remembered? The man must have interpreted his head tilt in some way as he finally shook himself from his stupor, hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck in a sheepish gesture, laughing a little. “Ha, very funny, Zhongli. Yeah, of course, we’re married. Right.”
Zhongli narrowed his eyes, unsure of what the inflection of his voice entailed. As far as he knew, mortals sometimes did not say what they meant, which had always confused him. But Zhongli could not think of any other logical explanation for all the idiosyncrasies that had neatly fallen into place since he’s woken up. He nodded, accepting this as fact.
He smiled a little to ease the unnerved look on Childe’s face.