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Xiao doesn’t dream.
If he lies in his bed, it’s out of choice, not necessity. To an adeptus, rest is a temptation—something indulgent that he will never become more than acquainted with.
Xiao hasn’t truly slept in hundreds of years.
Dreams have evaded him for even longer.
So when he sees her, he harbors no suspicions that it’s not real in the beginning.
He’s at the top of a mountain peak in Jueyun Karst. He isn’t sure how he’s found himself here. The scenery beyond this space is hazy, like the gods have brushed it away with their own hands.
Before him is a pond. It glows not from the sun, but as though it’s been illuminated from within. A tree with golden leaves sways above it with a breeze that Xiao cannot discern. The water’s surface is littered with the white petals of a flower that is so familiar to him—the name of it lies on his tongue.
Qingxin.
They’re so great in number that the sheet of petals on top of the pond gives the illusion of stability. In a different time, if he were a different person, Xiao would take a step forward, trusting the petals to hold his weight. He stands still.
Another breeze ruffles the tree’s branches, and some of its golden leaves fall onto the flower petals. When the last one hits the surface, a woman with golden hair breaks through it. She doesn’t come up for air—she doesn’t need something so tangible. No, when she comes to the surface, it’s as though she’s coming into being. A child of bitter flowers and cloudy mountain peaks. Petals still stick to her face, to her hair, adorning her visage like nature itself has laid claim on her.
When she turns to him, Xiao thinks he needs air. He’s never needed it to fill his lungs like this before.
The woman looks at him like she’s known him all her life. Her mouth doesn’t open, yet he hears her softly calling his name. She regards him with a gentle smile.
She holds her hand out to him, and he wakes up.
**
“Xiao.”
The room around him is dark, save for the last bit of moonlight that streams through a single open window. He knows this even with his eyes closed.
“Xiao?”
He opens his eyes.
Lumine lies beside him. Although she is not mortal either, she still requires sleep. It’s apparent in how she carries herself in times like this—she is able to feel the disorientation that comes from toeing the line between the waking world and something less physical.
From her voice alone, Xiao can tell that she’s still quite drowsy.
“What is it you need?” he asks her.
“Oh, Xiao. You were stirring.”
“Did I wake you?’
“No,” Lumine says. “Not at all.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“That’s not it either.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I just couldn’t wake you.” Lumine reaches out to brush a lock of his hair from his face. “I’ve never had trouble getting you up before.”
His sense of duty overcomes him in this dark room. “I’m . . . sorry. Rest assured, it won’t happen again.”
“Xiao, no.” She chuckles. “I thought you didn’t sleep, so it surprised me. Everyone needs to rest eventually—even Liyue’s most dedicated protector.”
“Be as it may, it’s irresponsible of me.”
“Well, when you have people in your corner, you get to be a little irresponsible every so often. You’ve earned it.”
Xiao scoffs.
“I wish that you would let yourself rest,” Lumine confesses.
“You should use your wishes for something more pressing.”
“If such a thing exists, I haven’t found it.”
Xiao turns over to his back. Lumine reaches for his arm, tracing his tattoo with her fingertips.
“Sweet dreams, Xiao.”
It doesn’t take long for Lumine to fall back into a deep sleep. Her leg is flung over his waist, and her hand has moved to rest on his shoulder. Xiao feels the weight as he takes deep, staggered breaths. He only lets himself lay a hand on her back. He stays so still that he can feel his heart beating throughout his body. It cries, I’m alive, I’m alive from his stomach, his chest, and his fingertips like a petulant child.
Maybe it’s not the worst thing to have a reminder.
Xiao stares at the ceiling until morning.
**
When he returns to the pond, Xiao knows that he’s dreaming.
The awareness does not give him anymore control over it.
He’s ever so slightly closer to the edge of the pond than he was before. If he reached out, he could skim the top layer of Qingxin petals with his fingers. He could feel the warmth of the water. He isn’t sure how he knows that the water is warm—just that it is. His knowledge in this transitory state yields nothing. Knowing doesn’t give him understanding.
This time, the woman doesn’t emerge from the water. When he sees her, she’s already above the surface. Water drips from her hair, from her cheeks, from her shoulders. When the droplets fall to the top of the pond, they don’t make a sound.
She holds in her cupped palms a pair of otherworldly flowers. He’s never seen her without them skillfully woven in her hair. The centers glow vibrant colors as though they’re possessed.
Xiao blinks once, and the flowers turns to dust.
I’ve always wondered . . .
She lets the dust fall into the water and dips her hands in. When she takes them out, nothing remains of the flowers.
When I reach the end of my journey, will I end up no greater than dust and ashes, too?
The woman looks from the pond’s surface up to him.
Would you be able to clean your hands of me, Xiao?
**
They meet Morax for tea in the heart of Liyue Harbor.
He wears the skin of a mortal well. His steps are lighter, and when Xiao and Lumine arrive, he greets them with an unburdened smile. It’s strange for an ex-Archon, an immortal outlander, and a guardian Yaksha to meet on such casual terms. But the Harbor has certainly seen stranger things.
“Zhongli, I wanted to ask you a question,” Lumine says.
“Of course, Traveler.”
“How familiar are you with botany?”
Morax takes a sip of his tea. “I certainly wouldn’t consider it my area of expertise. What do you wish to know about it?”
Lumine gestures to the flowers on the side of her hair. Xiao remembers how he watched her tuck them in while getting ready just hours ago.
“Specifically, I was wondering if you were familiar with these flowers. You know a great deal about many different things, so I thought you could give me a lead.”
Morax sets his cup down. The porcelain clinks together.
“I’m afraid it would be against one of my contracts to divulge the history of their . . . origins,” Morax says quietly. He leans in ever so slightly, and although he’s speaking to both of them, Xiao knows that these next words are meant for Lumine. “This doesn’t mean that their story isn’t worth remembering—nor is it lost to time entirely.”
Lumine nods at his cryptic wording. Xiao feels uneasy.
When they part later, his teacup remains untouched.
**
The third time Xiao dreams of the pond, the woman is waiting for him.
The scenery is unchanged. Petals crowd the surface of the water, the tree sways to a silent tune, and the clouds obscure the world beyond them. The woman waits in the center of the pond—she is the only dynamic thing in this static place. No flowers adorn her hair, no feathers stuck in the side. In comparison to the beauty around them, she seems dull. Burned out.
Won’t you join me, Xiao?
She holds her hand out towards him. In this dream, he’s toeing the edge of the pond.
When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, like speech pushes the boundaries of what’s allowed in this dream state. Like he’s only allowed to be spoken to.
“Why do you insist on haunting me?”
The woman puts her hands on her hips, disturbing the suspension of water, Qingxin, and tree leaves around her.
Silly Xiao. You can’t be haunted by something that’s still around.
He scoffs at this ridiculous sentiment.
“You know nothing of my burden.”
Maybe not. But I know the feeling of being lost. I know the feeling of being found. I know the arduous journey it takes to get between those two things.
The woman doesn’t move towards him, but Xiao has the instinct to step back. He can’t, of course. He’s never been able to move in these dreams.
Xiao, why won’t you join me?
Why do you insist on staying on the edge?
Her voice is stirring.
Why do you stay living like this?
Xiao breathes in.
Because this is a dream and nothing makes sense, he jumps.
Xiao!
Before the water can catch him, the woman catches him first. She pulls him towards her in a tight embrace that Xiao sinks into without remorse. It’s cleansing.
Against her shoulder, he asks, “Have you been waiting long?”
Lumine smiles.
No, not at all.