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The chessboard sits between the two women like a sacred artifact; a catalyst for the ritual that the Tianquan and Captain inevitably fall into whenever the Crux Fleet returns to Liyue Harbour. Atop its gleaming marble surface are exquisite chess pieces hewn from noctilucous jade, one half dyed black and the other left pristine white with a tinge of blue. The match is well underway; pawns lie scattered across the guest table, the surviving pieces sprawled across the board in half-formed strategies and quick-witted counters.
On the white side lounges the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, clad in white and gold; her eyes a deep wine-red against fair skin and snow-white hair that cascades over her back. She tilts her head just a little, and the tiny ginkgo pendant on her brown hair stick dangles with the motion. Her gaze flicks from the chessboard to the Captain of the Crux Fleet seated across from her, whose brown tresses fall free like her wild spirit over a powerful frame housed in red and gold. Half of her hair has been pulled back into a bun that has long been ruffled by wind, though it's held securely in place by several gold hair sticks. Her fringe falls over an eyepatch covering her left eye. She follows Ningguang's movement, tilting her head as well; her turquoise tassel and earring dangle with the motion.
“I must confess," Ningguang breathes as she surveys the battlefield, "your management of the Crux Fleet’s finances leaves much to be desired."
Beidou immediately chokes on her spit. “My— what?”
Ningguang raises a brow. “I said—”
She holds up a hand, still coughing. “I heard you the first time,” the Captain snaps, “But what in Morax’s name are you doing nosing into my affairs?”
“You could use some advice.” Ningguang ignores her comment.
“Did I ask?”
The Tianquan leans forward, tilting her pipe and tapping out the remnants of tobacco leaves into a dish. “Would you refuse?”
Beidou crosses her arms, scowling at the chessboard. “No.”
A smirk tugs at the corners of her rouge lips. Ningguang has always liked seeing this side of Beidou, a side reserved only for her. It’s only within the walls of the Jade Chamber that she can lay her eyes upon the captain’s disgruntled glower, topped off with a faint shade of pink dusting her cheeks. It’s a shame the Crux Fleet rarely returns to Liyue Harbour; as the weeks drag into months, Ningguang finds the cold beauty of the Jade Chamber particularly lonesome. All the antiques and treasures of the world can’t quite compare to the simple warmth that Beidou brings.
But, Ningguang tells herself, now is not the time. Lantern Rite is the only season where the Crux Fleet is guaranteed to return home, where the Alcor stays docked for weeks on end as her crew rests and restocks for a full voyage once again. Ningguang tries not to think about their time apart; she tries to live in the present, where things truly matter.
“So,” Ningguang prods, “Perhaps a proper lecture is due?”
“No,” Beidou repeats, “Tell me over chess.” She moves a rook.
“Are you sure? Merchants would pay millions for what I’m about to say, Beidou.” Ningguang pokes her bishop forward.
A grave mistake; there’s a mischievous glint in the captain’s crimson eye. It is the Tianquan’s turn to scowl when Beidou rises to her full height, towering over both the board and Ningguang. The Captain leans forward, muscles rippling as she presses a hand onto the table for support. Ningguang says nothing, primly keeping her legs crossed; she doesn’t move even when a calloused finger slides under her chin, tilting her head up to expose her burning cheeks for the world to see.
Only Captain Beidou would ever dare.
“I’m no merchant, am I, my light?” she asks, smugness dripping from her tone.
Ningguang swallows thickly. “No.”
“Good,” the Captain breathes, giving her cheeks a firm yet loving squeeze.
Ningguang’s face flames red.
“So” — Beidou drops back into the chair, nudges a knight forward and folds her arms — “you were saying?”
The Tianquan opens and closes her mouth for a few heartbeats, lowering her gaze to the chessboard. They are evenly matched as always, white against black. To make things worse, her face is so hot she swears she can feel steam escaping from her ears. Beidou’s smirk is growing wider by the second — damn this captain — and Ningguang presses her lips into a thin line, electing to knock off one of her little pawns. The Tianquan drops the black pawn onto the table. “Financial. Management,” she grinds out through gritted teeth. “You toss Mora about willy-nilly without a budget.”
Beidou shrugs, skillfully using a foot to poke her rook into Ningguang’s turf.
Show-off.
“It’s not like I’m lacking,” the Captain remarks, “Plus the parties and gifts keep morale high. My crew are like family to me; I’ll spare no expense in keeping their families safe.”
Of course. She’s always admired Beidou’s selfless heart; her boundless love for the people, her family and friends. In truth, Ningguang does not hesitate to do the same, albeit behind a veil of anonymity. A mysterious benefactor to some businesses like Wanmin Restaurant, a private donation to Yun-Han Opera Troupe, unnamed investments into various promising shops within Liyue Harbour — the reason is simple: the title of ‘Tianquan’ is oftentimes more hindrance than help.
“You don’t have to stop doing that,” Ningguang replies, shifting her queen to defend against an oncoming check. “You should simply consider setting aside a portion of your earnings to reinvest into Liyue Harbour.”
The captain frowns, propping one foot up on the guest table. Ningguang raises a brow in warning. Beidou sighs, dropping her foot back onto the ground. “And why should I do that?”
“Consider it another way of giving back to the people,” the Tianquan explains, leaning forward. “Of helping merchants beyond your crew. Investments help businesses greatly to survive their initial loss-making years.”
“How will I know it’s going to the business, and not some greedy merchant’s pocket?” Beidou follows suit, pressing her hands on the table as she closes the distance. “Or somehow going into your pocket, Miss Tianquan?”
Ningguang laughs. “That is—”
The rest of her words are drowned in an “mmph” when Beidou tips forward, playfully catching her lips in a quick kiss. “Gotcha,” the Captain chuckles.
The Tianquan huffs, blushing all the way from her cheeks to the tip of her ears. “You are awfully needy today, Captain.”
“I just docked after half a year,” Beidou responds nonchalantly, flopping back into her seat almost reluctantly. "You're my first thought when I wake and the last before I sleep, my star.”
“Are you changing the topic now?” She’s not going to let the captain know just how much her heart flutters whenever Beidou gives her that doe-eyed look. Not so easily, at least.
“Not at all. Look, why don’t you just invest half of my fines for me?” Beidou grumbles.
“Your fines go directly to the Ministry of Civil Affairs,” Ningguang points out, “I can’t just take a portion as and when I please.”
“You’re the Tianquan.”
“I uphold the laws of Liyue, not break them. The latter, I believe, is your domain.”
It is Beidou’s turn to open and close her mouth like a fish. Ningguang flips open her fan, hiding a victorious smirk. They’re even again — for now. No sooner has the thought passed through Ningguang’s mind does Beidou immediately tip the scales once more with a pointed reply: “I seem to recall you’re often too busy to enforce the rules, though.”
Archons. Ningguang entertains the thought of dramatically dragging her claws down her face. “The Crux Fleet, as I’ve told the Yuheng, is indispensable to Liyue Harbour. Despite our disagreements.”
Beidou beams, taking Ningguang’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Exactly, my light.” The Captain shifts, flattening Ningguang’s palm against her cheek.
The Tianquan’s heart flutters like a trapped butterfly in her chest. Perhaps it’s because they meet so infrequently — the Captain’s heart belongs first to the sea, after all — but despite the passage of time, Ningguang still finds herself tripping head over heels whenever Beidou so much as smiles, ever so tender and soft.
Beidou speaks, her gruff voice a low rumble against Ningguang’s hand. “Isn’t it in your best interests to ensure we stay profitable, bǎobèi?”
With her free hand, the Tianquan pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “Fine,” she concedes, “I can tell you who to invest in for favourable returns. As for the investments themselves — get Mora-Grubber to do it.”
The pirate lets out a hearty chuckle, releasing her hand. Her booming laughter is a welcome break from the tranquility of the Jade Chamber; it’s a sound that Ningguang misses far too much and far too often. “That’s my star.”
Ningguang exhales noisily, shaking her head. The chessboard lies forgotten between them. “I’m too lenient with you, Beidou.”
“I love you too, bǎobèi.”
She can’t help but challenge: “You do, do you?”
“Hah!” Beidou lifts her head almost defiantly, holding Ningguang’s gaze with equal fervour. “What does my oh-so-demanding Tianquan desire this time?”
“Excuse me?” Ningguang huffs. “Is dinner too much to ask for?”
“That’s all?” Beidou flashes her a warm smile as she rises once again. Ningguang stays seated, but her gaze stays fixed on the captain’s gentle ruby eye. “I can do more.” She raises a finger. “On one condition.”
“I don’t believe you’re in any position to request something of me,” Ningguang responds, raising an eyebrow and snapping her fan shut. “But let’s hear it.”
“Wear that dress from last year,” Beidou says without missing a beat, “The blue one.”
Ningguang swears her cheeks are hot enough to cook Teyvat fried eggs.
“Liuli Pavilion,” the captain casually remarks as she spins on her heel, leaving with a wave. “Tonight. My treat.” She stops at the door, throwing one last glance at the Tianquan. “And don’t forget the dress!”
Ningguang rolls her eyes, refusing to entertain the captain with an answer. She picks up the chess pieces and tosses them into a velvet pouch, humming one of Beidou’s sea shanties under her breath.
And when Baiwen later enters to report on Lantern Rite affairs, Ningguang holds up a hand to grab the secretary’s attention. “Lady Ningguang?” Baiwen asks.
“Clear my schedule for dinner, please,” the Tianquan says calmly, “Oh, and get Baishi to prepare the blue dress. My favourite.”
“Of course.” Baiwen bows and leaves.
Ningguang settles at her desk, a small smile on her lips. This Lantern Rite, perhaps, may be the best one yet.
A few days later...
—FIN.