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He’s glad that he decided to come along.
It was a spur of the moment decision when he caught Xingqiu trailing up the pathway north on his way back to the harbor, with a small bag at his hip and his nose deep in a book. His flash of surprise followed by an earnest smile sticks in Chongyun’s mind when he called out his name.
“I’m going to Dragonspine,” he mentions casually, “It’s nothing major. I just need to transport some important documents to their chief alchemist, and the weather is supposed to be mild for the next few days. Are you coming back from training?”
“Auntie said that Master – err, Cloud Retainer needed a break,” he replies with a sheepish grin. Xingqiu’s chuckles fills him with warmth, and a comfortable pause falls in between them, grateful for each other’s company after a long absence. “But wait, Dragonspine? Don’t you want to put on pants?”
He snorts. “Says the person who only wore a shirt to go for a swim in its lake. As usual, I came prepared!”
Xingqiu lifts the flap to reveal a small stash of warming bottles, nestled aside a neatly bound parcel. He hums in approval, and Xingqiu’s gaze shifts to the side before asking,
“If you have nothing else to do, do you want to accompany me?”
And now…
Now they’ve discovered that whoever gave that weather report was a dirty liar. Halfway up the mountain trail, the temperature dropped in a matter of minutes. Chongyun is no stranger to this; with the amount of times he’s wandered through Dragonspine coupled with the use of his cryo vision, a sudden temperature change almost feels like second nature.
But it started snowing. Hard. And now they’re huddled in the shallow dip between two boulders, watching as the last embers of this miraculous beacon of a campfire die out from the howling winds. Snow has already covered the ground in a thin layer, and it’s steadily piling on as the blizzard rages the trail.
“We need kindling,” he states, eyeing Xingqiu’s satchel beside him.
He catches on, and looks mortified at the idea. “Please, can we try anything else first?”
And so they bring out the first warming bottle. Chongyun nestles himself close to Xingqiu’s side as he watches his partner’s reddened fingers clumsily uncork the bottle. The tiny synthetic seelie rises from the glass, and he can feel the gentle heat of its energy lick at his clothes and warm his exposed skin.
Xingqiu still shivers beside him, but the sigh he releases is one of relief.
“Your lips are blue,” Chongyun notes quietly. That’s not good. It doesn’t take long to get frostbite out on Dragonspine, especially for a hydro user.
“At least they’re my favorite color now,” Xingqiu snarks, but it’s in good nature. “I’m sure they’ll – wait, what are you doing?”
He shrugs off his hoodie after unclasping the knots and throws it around Xingqiu’s shoulders, waiting for him to pull his arms through the holes before he buttons it up again. “You’re still cold, right? Here.”
A frown tugs at Xingqiu’s mouth. “What about you?”
“I handled being in a frozen lake with just a shirt, remember?” he teases, “I’ll be fine. The seelie’s too warm for me anyway.”
Xingqiu tugs at the fabric, hugging himself. “Thank you.”
He hums in reply, and they fall into a small silence as they watch the fake flame bob up and down in gentle motions, unaffected by the unforgiving gales. He counts the seconds in his head as they watch it fade. When the last flickers of orange disappear, he’s already counted to five minutes.
Xingqiu reaches for another bottle, but Chongyun tugs at his sleeve to stop.
“We should wait for a little bit. The storm could take longer than we think.”
“So much for ‘warm and sunny weather’,” Xingqiu mutters. But his hands fall from the satchel and he returns to pressing up against Chongyun’s side. “At least you’re warm.”
He smiles wryly while he snakes his arm around Xingqiu’s waist to pull him closer. “Yeah.”
They fall into silence, and he starts counting again. One, two, three…
Xingqiu buries his face against Chongyun’s shoulder when a particularly strong gust invades their tiny hollow.
One hundred five. One hundred six. One hundred seven.
Xingqiu’s fingertips are a muted, bruising shade of red when he reaches out to adjust his coat. Chongyun takes his fingers and curls his own around them.
“Thank you,” he whispers for the second time today.
The blizzard rages on. Snow falls on them in heavy clumps, but the wind is too strong to keep them in one place for long – unless they touch Chongyun’s skin. The crystals melt upon contact with his shoulders and sting in that particular way that he’s grown accustomed to during all the years of using his cryo vision. In blizzards like this – quite literally – he’s in his element.
Xingqiu isn’t afforded that same courtesy. He brushes off the snow clinging to his legs when he notices the crystals attempting to layer upon him.
Four hundred ninety eight. Four hundred ninety nine.
“We can use the next warming bottle.”
Xingqiu dives for the bag.
“Who gave you that weather report?” he asks when the second seelie nestles itself in front of them. Xingqiu abandons him in favor of the heat and crowds to it as close to it as humanly possible, his fingers cupping the little thing like a precious jewel. His eyes flicker upwards to look at him, the flames reflected in his eyes.
“Bennett,” he utters.
A beat passes as they gaze at each other in a silent confirmation.
So that’s where it went wrong.
“Are the documents really important?”
“They’re on an urgent deadline…”
“So they are important?”
“They’re urgent.”
Chongyun doesn’t consider himself to be scholarly, but he does consider himself well-read. He’s read over Xingqiu’s shoulder enough to have picked up a thing or two, and that’s why he’s confident enough to say that the two words aren’t exactly synonyms.
And thus, his eyebrow raises when he crosses his arms. “Uh huh.”
“At any rate, Albedo needs them. Even if we can’t reach his lab by tonight, it’ll be better late than never,” Xingqiu suggests when his gaze lowers back to the seelie. And then, in a more quiet, pleading tone, “Please don’t burn my papers.”
He opts to say nothing, which gives him the pleasure of seeing Xingqiu fidget in place as he sneaks glances between him and the bag.
When the seelie dies out, Xingqiu returns to him without any hesitation. His arm is taken captive as Xingqiu’s personal heater, nestled close to his chest and trapped between his drawn up legs, causing him to very tactfully place his palm against his thigh. His skin is naturally cold, and it makes the temperature difference between them all the more apparent, like his fingertips are on fire.
Sensing the flush of warmth rising to his cheeks, he looks away to inspect the dead campfire being buried under the snow.
“So how is the novel coming along?”
Xingqiu’s head whips towards him like he’s just become the cryo archon himself.
“What?”
“The novel that you were reading before I left?” he replies, biting his lip to keep from smirking, “Those papers are for a review that Lady Guuji requested of you, aren’t they? That must be why you need to get them to Albedo as soon as possible. For revisions?”
It’s rare when he can fluster Xingqiu into a flurry of emotions like this. Normally it’s the other way around when they’re with their friends, and Xingqiu gives him sly glances that promise Chongyun a deluge of rather embarrassing emotions to come. And it’s only when they’re alone that Xingqiu lets his guard down enough for Chongyun to strike. Usually it’s by accident.
So like any other time, he savors his victory as he watches Xingqiu’s cheeks redden and his eyes narrow, as if he’s attempting to solve the great mysteries of Tevat.
“I forgot about mentioning that to you,” he mutters gravely. “Yes. The review for Lady Guuji.”
Chongyun spots a few flurries resting on his hair, and Xingqiu makes a small noise when his fingers sink into the soft strands to shake them free of the crystals.
“I don’t understand why you’re so self conscious,” he coaxes gently, “Every time you’ve told me about a story, I’ve always thought that you were excellent. Your opinions are well thought out, and you’re always honest, but fair. Was the novel you read that bad?”
“...The author is a bit ostentatious,” he admits, once again hiding his face by nuzzling into his shoulder.
He laughs, carding his hair towards the nape of his neck. “Oh, yeah? What’s the name of the book again?”
“Trade secret. I can’t say until it’s published,” he muffles against his arm. At least Xingqiu’s breaths are still warm as they tease against his skin.
In the back of his mind, the counting is what keeps him grounded from tipping into another yang-induced episode. The cold helps as well, but he knows from hard experience that it only delays the inevitable.
Eighty two. Eighty three. Eighty four.
“Hey, Chongyun,” Xingqiu says after attempting the keep his hood up for a third time. “After this, let’s go to Sumeru.”
His nose scrunches up at the thought. Imagine, him, wandering around in the dense vegetation and sweltering heat, in the midst of an episode and probably wearing an oversized mushroom as a hat. And Xingqiu laughing at him in the background. “But it’s so humid in the jungle.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” he chuckles back with a squeeze to his arm, “But if we go far enough, then we’d reach the desert. Unless you prefer Natlan.”
There is no imagining that. He’d probably die of heatstroke, and Xingqiu would have to carry him back home.
“I’d rather be in Sneznhaya.”
“We might as well already be in Sneznhaya,” Xingqiu counters, gesturing to the blizzard, “I’ll settle for Fontaine. I’ve heard of the haunted catacombs underneath the streets of its capital. Wouldn’t it be a prime opportunity to find a suitable ghost for you to exorcise?”
“Would we even be allowed into the catacombs? The laws in Fontaine are even stricter than the Qixing’s standards.”
“I’d find a way,” he replies with a small chuckle, his fingers sliding between Chongyun’s. “And I’ll be with you to transcribe every single moment of it.”
His fingers are like icicles, but Chongyun doesn’t mind. He curls in on them and squeezes, and Xingqiu squeezes back.
“I’d like that,” he relents.
“Fontaine, then. It’s a date.”
Four hundred seventy seven. Four hundred seventy eight. Four hundred seventy nine.
This time, when Chongyun reaches for the bag, it’s Xingqiu who stops him.
“I can wait a little longer,” he says in a quiet rush, as if his flow of words are about to freeze at any moment, “You’re warm, anyway.”
“I’m a terrible heater,” he tries to joke, but he sees the way Xingqiu’s body trembles in the seconds that he leaves his side, and the humor of it leaves entirely.
But there’s a hidden intent behind Xingqiu’s request: a tactical one. This is their last warming bottle.
When he uncorks the final bottle, it’s directly into Xingqiu’s hands and close to the rock. If they get lucky, the stone will absorb enough of the heat to retain a fraction of it. Any bit matters.
The seelie floats at eye level with Xingqiu, who’s expression slips into something unreadable as he stares into the flames. It’s only until Chongyun leaves the perimeter that he looks up.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the firewood. It’s just a precaution.”
He knows that the campfire is only a few paces away, but the intensity of the storm makes spotting it three times harder than it should. By now, the kindling has cooled and snow has started layer upon the top branches, and he grimaces. Wet kindling is practically useless, but he sifts through the charred pile to find some half- suitable pieces and taps them against the ground to shake off the excess snow.
The cold is finally getting to him too; his skin feels numb against the charred wood, and he shivers when he unfolds himself from his crouched position. He can already feel his lungs stutter from the bite of the frost. It’s unfortunate, but he’s bound to get sick after this – just because his internal temperature is higher than most, it doesn’t mean that his temperature is consistent; he ends up feelng like a furnace from the inside while his skin senses the cold from outside, and it creates a terrible sensation that he has suffered with countless times before. This is no different.
He turns back towards the flicker of light just in time to see it go out among the haze, but it only takes him a few steps to spot Xingqiu’s silhouette among the rocks, curled in on himself. His head darts up when Chongyun’s footsteps catch his attention, and smiles.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” he murmurs, as if he fully expected the snowstorm would blow him away. Chongyun smiles at his relieved tone and sets the branches down.
“Don’t thank me yet. We have to light these before the snow gets to them,” he replies.
That takes the smile right off of his face, and his hands flit over the clasp of his bag as he hesitates.
Chongyun bows his head slightly, sympathetic. “If I could think of any other way, I’d –”
His words are cut off by a series of dry coughs that wrack his lungs in an attempt to expel the cold. And the next thing he knows, Xingqiu’s arms wrap around him in a hug.
“We’ll use the novel first,” he coaxes, pushing the well-loved book into his hands, “And if we need to, then we’ll go on to the documents.”
Chongyun nods and pauses for a second, as if giving thanks to the novel itself, then flips open the cover to tear out the first few pages. He only catches a few words (Legend, Zhenyu) before he has the paper crushed in his hands as he goes page by page. The strained noises that come out of Xingqiu’s mouth could have just as easily been mistaken for the wind, but he knows better.
“Do you have your flint and steel?” he asks, noting Xingqiu’s pained expression as he looks down at the jagged fringes of paper still attached to the binding. He nods and wordlessly hands him the items from his bag.
Chongyun stuffs the papers under the branches and scrapes the steel against the flint. Sparks fly but blow away from the pile as soon as they form. He moves them closer and tries again.
This time an ember lands on one of the papers and smokes, but it does nothing but eat at the fibers with red teeth and die out. He’s not dismayed – it’s hope taken form, if he just acts quickly enough, if he just angles it away from the wind just right…
Xingqiu blocks the wind as best as he can with his body, shivering all the while as he watches one of his precious books get destroyed in the worst way possible, until Chongyun pauses halfway into chapter four.
“Maybe if I snap off a few twigs from a bush, the heat can transfer from the paper to there…” he thinks out loud, shaking his head in frustration. How long has he been at this now? It’s precious time wasted, but he hates giving up on it when the solution seems so simple.
He covers another set of coughs with his arm.
“Yun,” Xingqiu stutters through his chattering teeth, “You need t-to get warm.”
“I’m fine. I just need to figure this out,” he grumbles, but as soon as he takes one good look at Xingqiu huddling into himself with drooping eyelids and snow in his hair, his frustration sharpens into an immediate need to protect.
If Xingqiu sacrificed something so dear to him to keep them warm, then he can sacrifice his comfort and control, at least this one time. This is what he’s been training for.
Pocketing the flint and steel, he brushes the soot off of his hands and scoops Xingqiu up bridal style, earning a surprised yelp from him as soon as he’s lifted off of the ground.
“We’ll just make due with body heat.”
Xingqiu doesn’t protest when he settles back into the hollow and places him in his lap. Chongyun tugs him even closer by wrapping his arms around him, and holds tight.
With Xingqiu’s breaths tickling against his cheek, he closes his eyes to concentrate on finding a balance to this chaotic idea. Too much, and he risks passing out in the worst of circumstances. Too little, and his body heat won’t make much of a difference to Xingqiu.
He restarts the count as a way to mediate, and then focuses on memories to keep him grounded.
One, two, three.
The warm laughter of his mother. The gentle strength of his father. His little cousins, trailing after him with eager footsteps as he trains in the compound.
The scent of spices. Boisterous chatter. Xiangling’s welcoming smile and a plate of cold noodles with chilled slices of roasted boar, made just for him. The first full meal in days, made with the love of a friend.
Three hundred twenty one, three hundred twenty two, three hundred twenty three.
Sunlight in the tail end of spring, sunburned shoulders and the smell of violet grass as Xingqiu lends him a straw hat to keep in the shade.
Soft conversations in golden grass and the sound of water rushing in the distance, Xingqiu’s eyes reflecting the last light of dusk.
Gunpowder in the air and sparks of color in the night. Lanterns dancing in the sky, but they come second to Xingqiu’s soft lips and earnest murmurs, and the tender care of cool bubbles brushing against heated skin.
Seven hundred. Seven hundred one.
Xingqiu’s weight sags against him, but his arms wrap around Chongyun’s neck to keep close.
“Yun, are you still with me? Don’t fall asleep now. I don’t know if I’d be able to wake you up.”
He hums and nuzzles against his cheek. “I’m awake.”
“Good,” Xingqiu sighs into his ear. “Then let’s talk. Preferably about something warm.”
Chongyun chuckles and squeezes him. He’s stopped shivering, but that’s not a good sign. “All right. What do you want to talk about?”
“Are you sure we can’t go to Natlan? Wouldn’t it be fun to track down the legends of the Golden City? And it’s the origin of that wonderful hot chocolate drink.”
“Cold chocolate for me. And wouldn’t it solidify? It’d just be chocolate. You can search for the legendary city, and I’ll stay inside. Take some pictures for me.”
“It wouldn’t be half as fun without you,” Xingqiu replies, hugging him tighter, “Think about it. How am I supposed to traverse the dense forests without my dearest Chongyun, hacking away at the vines? Surely I’d get tangled and end up breaking an ankle without you to clear my path.”
“You wouldn’t break an ankle if you wear proper boots. I know you; you’ll do just fine,” he retorts softly, “We both know that I would pass out after ten minutes of crossing the border.”
Xingqiu shakes his head, brushing his cheek against his in the process. “Then after your training. And we’ll go to the hot springs first to test it out.”
The hot springs. His ultimate reward for accomplishing his lifelong goal of ridding evil from the world. Only he’s already gone to the hot springs, according to Xingqiu, and sometime during it he made a daunting promise to his best friend despite not remembering a second of the trip: wedding vows.
“Xingqiu,” he starts, pressing their foreheads together as his temperature rises, “what do you think our wedding would look like?”
A silence follows, long enough that he starts to think that he’s made a mistake in asking, but Xingqiu’s fingers curl against his undershirt as his eyelids flutter shut, and he hums.
“Well, for starters, we’d have two.”
Chongyun’s eyes widen. “Why two?”
“The first one is for our families, and it’ll be a stifling and horridly traditional affair. So it doesn’t count,” he states matter-of-fact.
Chongyun can envision it: the endless paperwork of reserving the balcony of Yujing Terrace, the marriage contract and Yanfei hovering over their shoulders to explain over every legal sentence in detail. The hours long ceremony of giving thanks to their ancestors. His mother would be fretting over his wedding robes. His father would cry during the procession.
Xingqiu moves his hands to rest at the nape of Chongyun’s neck. “But the second ceremony, that’s for us.”
Chongyun’s fingers slip between his hoodie and Xingqiu’s silk jacket in an attempt to regain feeling in them, but he’d be lying if that was the only reason. He just wants to be closer.
“Hu Tao can officiate –“
“Not Hu Tao,” he interjects.
“Yanfei can officiate with Hu Tao as a creative consultant,” Xingqiu corrects in a quiet laugh, one that turns into a dry cough before weakly resting his head against Chongyun’s shoulder, “And we’d have it outside of the harbor. Qingce. Or maybe near Qiaoying. Somewhere where we can’t be bothered. And all of our friends are invited.”
“Xiangling would kill us if we didn’t let her come,” he adds with a smile and buries his nose against Xingqiu’s hair.
“She would be so busy catering the first wedding that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. The second one would be better for her,” he agrees. “And I’d ask Yun Jin to set up the decorations.”
Chongyun nods. Her years of performing at the opera would give her an eye for that kind of thing.
“Xinyan has made a few ballads before. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind performing for us.”
“I thought you didn’t like Xinyan’s music?”
“I don’t, normally. But her ballads are exceptional,” he murmurs, “I’d ask Yaoyao to help arrange the flowers, and Albedo to –“
He stops himself and fidgets.
“‘Albedo to’ what?”
“I’ve heard that Albedo is quite skilled in artistic composition,” Xingqiu clarifies, “And I think he would be a great photographer for the occasion.”
“Mhm,” is all he replies. Sometimes Xingqiu gets nervous like this about the foreign alchemist, but he knows it’s nothing to worry about. He trusts Xingqiu. “Well, it seems like you have everything already planned.”
And his hypothetical husband-to-be huffs against him. “It takes two to get married, dear Yun. What do you have in mind?”
“Not much,” he confesses quietly. Usually, he doesn’t give himself the luxury to dwell on it in fear of an attack. “I just think of you, and how gorgeous you’d look in your robes, and…”
And how Xingqiu’s gaze would meet his when they first see each other for the ceremony. How his tender smile and soft eyes are only focused on him, and how his laughter fills up the air in the sweetest sound that Chongyun will ever hear. How Xingqiu’s fingers fit just right, slotted with his own as they walk towards the altar...
“...Sorry, can’t think about it too much right now,” he croaks.
“You are warm,” Xingqiu relents with half-lidded eyes. “You know, in Mondstat they make vows to each other. Maybe we can add that to ours.”
“You want me to come up with a vow?” Even the thought of it has him tripping over the words in his head.
“You may not think it, but you’re a natural, Yun. It’s easy. Here, let me show you.”
Xingqiu shifts in place to angle himself better and brings his hands to cup Chongyun’s cheeks, brushing over his cheekbones with his thumbs.
“My dearest Chongyun,” he starts, “Words are not enough to express how I feel.”
“And yet you want us to make vows,” he teases.
“Shhh. Words are not enough to express how I feel,” he repeats, “but I have never been one to shy away from a literary challenge, and I’ve certainly never been able to shy away from you.”
Chongyun’s breath hitches slightly as he catches the look of adoration on Xingqiu’s face, and suddenly he feels like a six-year old boy again, flustered at the sight of his very first friend.
And Xingqiu is far from finished. “I’ve been drawn to you my whole life. In the times that we are together, my heart feels at peace. In the times that we are apart, it feels as if I am far from home. When you are hurt, I feel your pain in my soul. And when you are happy, I feel like the injustices of the world have been quelled. No one will ever have my heart like you. So here, I make this vow.”
His hand slides down Chongyun’s cheek to his neck, trails across his shoulder and down the contours of his arm to guide him until they can lock hands. Xingqiu’s skin is so cold that it almost burns, but it only takes a second for their temperatures to acclimate.
“When you are with me, I will be your peace. When we are apart, think of me and you will be home. When you are hurt, I will bear it with you. And when you are happy, then I will uphold your happiness for eternity.”
He feels lightheaded. “Xingqiu.”
“It’s a first draft,” he chuckles, pressing his head against Chongyun’s again. The flush on his cheeks stand out against his pale skin. “Be gentle with me.”
“There is no such thing as eternity,” he blurts, much to Xingqiu’s surprise. “I think I know that more than most, being an exorcist and all. Eternity is a concept that people think is a good thing, but...I don’t think that’s true.”
Xingqiu falls silent, but Chongyun only presses closer to him, as if he can convey the meaning through touch alone.
“What I do know is that I love you, Xingqiu. You are already my home. You are already a great deal of my happiness. And what I want with you is time.”
“Time,” Xingqiu parrots.
“I want to run through Jueyun Karst with you, fighting those who would cause harm. I want to sit with you on rainy nights as you read your book until we fall asleep. I want to argue with you over whether a dish is spicy or not. I want to hold you when things become to much. I want to kiss you in the mornings when I wake. And I…”
This isn’t good. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s counted to the nine hundreds. He’s losing track.
“I’d follow you anywhere if you asked of me. If you want to go to the volcanoes of Natlan, then I’ll go. If you want to go to the deepest caves of Sumeru, then I’ll do it. And if you want to climb to the highest peak of Dragonspine – we’re already halfway there. And if we don’t make it…”
He brushes back Xingqiu’s hair, who releases a shaky sigh.
“Then I will be with you, and that’s what matters,” he finishes.
His vision is going blurry, but he can still feel Xingqiu’s weight shift once again, and the gentle, sweet pressure of his lips pressing against his. It lingers, and for once, he feels the gentleness of warmth spreading over his body like a blanket from the storm.
Nine hundred ninety seven. Nine hundred ninety eight.
Nine hundred ninety nine.
Everything fades away.
“…”
“...Oh! I think there’s…”
“Traveler! Look, he’s moving!”
Chongyun groans and cracks open his eyes, sluggish to the call of familiar voices ringing in the air. Something pulls at his arm bracing him to sit up, and he looks over.
It’s Xingqiu. He breaks into a relieved smile and eases him upwards, then looks up towards someone else. Chongyun follows his gaze.
He finds the Traveler and Paimon hovering over him. And shuffling behind them– Bennett.
“Woo, thank goodness you’re all right! Paimon would have had a heart attack if she saw you two had become human ice sculptures!” the fairy exclaims, resting her hand over her heart.
“How do you feel? Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?” Bennett adds as he looks over them with an apologetic grin. “That blizzard was a real nasty one, wasn’t it?”
The blizzard – Chongyun’s gaze darts around them expecting to find the harsh winds and snow, only to find the hazy sun and stillness. His head is still swimming, but at least he can surmise that they aren’t in immediate danger.
“How did you find us?” he rasps.
“We saw the smoke,” Aether replies quietly. “You’re lucky. The fatui like to camp here.”
Paimon waves her hand around. “Yeah! Thank goodness we took them out before the storm, right? Bennett told us that he was worried about Xingqiu, so he asked us to come looking for him. We didn’t expect you to be here too, Chongyun!”
“And...speaking of luck,” Bennett starts as he bows his head, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m really sorry about the weather report! The predictions I gave you are actually for next week, but somehow I mixed them up. Are – are you sure you guys are okay? You can totally take it out on me if it makes you feel better!”
“Not to worry. We are just fine, Bennett. Chongyun’s yang energy helped to stave off the cold,” Xingqiu replies, casually curling his fingers against Chongyun’s palm without batting an eye. “Actually, I must thank you. We wouldn’t have gotten married if it wasn’t for this, after all.”
“See? All’s well that ends well! They got –" Paimon pauses, blinks, and then shrills so loud that it rings through the mountainside. "You got what?!”
Chongyun groans. “Xingqiu.”
To that, Xingqiu chuckles and glances to him. “And this is why we have to invite all of our friends.”
