Work Text:
Rain reminded Zhongli of Childe.
Whether it was a torrential downpour or the light droplets of a passing shower, the sound of the rain reminded Zhongli very well. Too well, perhaps. Ganyu was still in the study when Zhongli walked in from the adjoining balcony. He noticed a red umbrella folded against the door. Droplets slid off the fabric, into a wet circle on the wooden floor. Zhongli found himself lost in thought for a moment.
The wind gusted, sending a light spray of rain towards his back. He closed the balcony doors.
“ Dijun looks healthy today.” Ganyu’s greetings were always the same. And she always forgot.
“You do not need to call me that anymore, Miss Ganyu.” Zhongli sat down at his desk, his eyes moving to the stack of rolled scrolls and he lifted his chin slightly. Ganyu held back a sigh and bit her lips. He did not chide her nor speak further. There was a letter on his desk today as well. The ever-efficient Ganyu had brought it to him, along with those proposals he was meant to look over.
“Shall I prepare tea for you?” She offered, already moving towards the side table where he stored the tea caddies, and the tea set. “It is very cold, after all. A cup of hot tea will warm you up.”
He agreed with a nod of his head.
Ganyu was deft and efficient. In no more than ten minutes, the tea was ready and steeping in the pot. She placed a cup by his left. He glanced at it, his attention taken for the barest of seconds and then, unrolled one of the proposals. The script was neat, the writing light yet stern. There was space provided on the paper for him to write his reply. Ganyu had already prepared the ink and brush for him as well.
“Zhongli xiansheng need not return the proposals by tonight.” She said, her words followed by the silken sounds of tea pouring into his cup. “Lady Ningguang will not be returning until a fortnight and she has instructed xiansheng to take his time.”
Ganyu paused, lifting the teapot with a graceful arc of her wrists, completing the pour. “Lady Ningguang believes xiansheng will need some time for other matters as well.”
Zhongli’s eyebrows lift slightly.
“Has she planned out something for me?”
The qilin shook her head. “No, xiansheng. But before Lady Ningguang left, she said, the summer storm will come, and you should remember to bring an umbrella.”
“An umbrella?” The baffled expression on Zhongli’s face seemed extremely genuine.
Ganyu smiled as she placed the teapot on the desk.
“I believe so.” She said, glancing at the red umbrella at the doorway. “I’ll leave the umbrella here, xiansheng. And I must go.”
Ganyu left after fussing over Zhongli for a few more moments. She placed a plate of snacks as well on his desk and insisted he should eat the pastry before it turned soft. It was a new product from Wanmin Tang and Xiangling used the finest lotus pods to make these. Yet, by the time he remembered about the pastries, it was early evening. The rain still fell, and the tea had turned cold in his cup. He could sit for hours without feeling stiffness or soreness in his limbs. But that would not be fitting. Zhongli imagined a dull pain in his bones for a moment.
It did not work as he thought it would, and he laughed quietly to himself.
Then he tilted his head and closed his eyes to listen.
The rain pattered against the closed window screens as if laughing together with him.
Zhongli realized he had fallen asleep. He must have dozed off in his chair for the sound of rain was so comfortable. The soft glow of lights gleamed through the paper screens of the windows, and muffled chatter from the streets below rose, floating into the room. He must have slept for more hours than he thought he did.
A few strides brought him to the balcony again and he took care to step on the wet planks. The rain had stopped, moments ago likely since the drains still gushed plump with water. The apartment he stayed in was in a recent complex built by the Qixing’s urban policy branch. His single-story unit faced the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and the Northland Bank. It was provided to him upon request with no rental fees, as long as he upheld his end of the contract with the Qixing. The Parlor was doing well recently, though “doing well” was often a conundrum to the living. But for Zhongli, it also meant there was a balance of births and deaths in this city. Tonight, only the first floor of the Parlor was lit, whilst the rest were dark. The Director must have found something of interest again elsewhere, and went gallivanting as usual.
The Northland Bank was still operating despite the absence of a Harbinger. The Bank was lit, and he could see figures moving behind the windows. Busy as ever, even without the usual agents, and managers. The current staff was locally hired, and Ningguang herself was said to be solely in charge of all the Bank’s operations. Yet, from the conversations he heard in the streets, and the idle chatter at the tearooms and opera houses, the operations resembled too much of someone he knew too well. Zhongli knew being too curious would do him no benefit, yet he could not help but be curious. Did Childe return secretly? He would know, wouldn’t he? Yet he was sure the Harbinger was given a ban from the city once his issues were settled.
The aftermath of the whole matter was strangely and easily resolved. Zhongli never regretted his plan. It achieved what it meant to achieve, albeit, it also changed his mind about several things. Childe and the Fatui agents were banned from the city, but before their departure, the Harbinger brought up a generous proposal to the Qixing - massive compensation before he left He spent the last few days and nights in Liyue in the Bank, clearing and proposing financial agreements, deposits, transferring loans, and offering compensation to various entities affected by the Fatui operations, and his actions.
The Traveler left after a sumptuous banquet in their honor, where ridiculous stories were told of the Harbinger Childe and his sorry defeat at the hands of the mighty Traveler. The guests did not know the Harbinger was at the banquet as well, hovering in the beams as a swirl of water. They met later, for a drink, and Childe laughed as he talked about those absurd stories told at the banquet. How embarrassed the Traveler looked, Childe said, and he laughed, as he downed another cup of wine.
He did not seem affected at all. Zhongli remembered the next part all too well.
Or was that a lie too, like the mask Childe wore ever since the first day he and Zhongli met.
They drank a lot of wine that night before Childe was to depart for Snezhnaya. Neither was drunk, and Childe always insisted the wine in Liyue tasted like fish piss, instead of real alcohol. They sat together on the third-floor balcony of the Bank, outside Childe’s office.
“Will you miss me, Zhongli xiansheng?”
A straightforward answer was usually the best, and Zhongli did that.
“I will.”
Childe had laughed at his reply, but it was not mocking nor sarcastic. A genuine laugh, Zhongli remembered. Charmingly sincere and almost gentle, with a hint of moroseness, and Childe had leaned over to kiss him on his lips, to touch his face with hands chilled by the wind that would soon bring rain.
“I will miss you too.”
He returned the kiss. But he was not eager for what was next. Yet, as always, Childe pulled him in, and Zhongli gave in once more.
Rain had started once more and drops smacked against his face. Zhongli returned to his room, shutting the balcony doors. It was growing late and he did need to eat. The tea was cold, and the pastry had gone soft. He will visit Xiangling tomorrow and apologize for wasting her pastries.
The place to have dinner was not too far away but he should bring an umbrella. That red umbrella Ganyu has thoughtfully left for him at the door. Although he would not catch a cold or fall sick, it would do him little benefit not to continue with his guise. He should order noodles tonight, maybe with a side of spicy minced meat and some of Xiangling’s fried lotus seeds.
The door creaked as he swung it open, his sight not upon the path he’d walk out on and as he opened the umbrella to shield against the heavy patter of raindrops, Zhongli sighted a familiar visage, a shoulder slopped against the garden wall, hair of bright light that was dull in the evening mist.
“Liyue is raining now since xiansheng is no longer working hard.”
The remark was as candid as always, refreshing just like the evening rain gushing down the broken stones of the garden path.
Zhongli’s hand trembled once.
The red umbrella he held slipped from his fingers, and it tumbled to the ground, muddied water splashing upwards.
“Childe.”
Unsure of the right way to act, but so sure perhaps that this might be the way, Zhongli’s arms widened for an embrace. Surely, slowly.
“I missed you.”
In moments, the body that his arms wrapped around was both drenched and warm at the same time. The kisses that were pressed on his lips were still pushy and charming, kisses he remembered well.
The rain continued to pour, and Zhongli forgot about the noodles. Perhaps in the tenderness of such fated reunion one can forgo dinner for once and fill up one’s stomach with sentimental emotion.