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A red-haired young man steps off the newly arrived ship at Liyue Harbor. Not much has changed since he had visited a year ago, except he has now foregone the ushanka that he’d always favored since childhood. He turns to bid farewell to the passengers and crew that he’d likely befriended during the weeks of voyage, pausing briefly to check his luggage, and trudges weary to the inn frequented by Snezhnayan visitors.
Zhongli turns golden eyes back to the storyteller, contemplative silence lasting the rest of the performance.
The wind picks up a day later, as Zhongli ascends the steps to Yujing Terrace, carrying with it traces of carefree laughter and, ironically, a sense of loss. It drifts with him towards Yiyan Temple, where the young man from yesterday stands before an incense burner. He spies Zhongli’s leisurely approach, deep blue eyes betraying no surprise at his arrival.
“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he greets. “I was going to look for you after finishing here.”
“It’s certainly a coincidence. I’m glad to have spared you the effort, Teucer,” says Zhongli. He ignores the breeze that brushes past them, lifting strands of hair playfully, until it settles. “Will you be staying here for longer this time?”
Teucer shakes his head. “It'll be the same as always. I just wanted to come here first to offer incense to Rex Lapis…” He glances at the incense burner, years and years of confusion now replaced by placid acceptance. “My older brother wanted…”
A vision of a tall man with blue, blue eyes and a teasing grin playing on his lips flickers. It seizes the air from Zhongli’s lungs, for the briefest moment, but by the time Teucer faces back Zhongli shows no sign of being disturbed.
“He must have loved it here,” Teucer says thoughtfully. “The streets are so lively and warm.”
Zhongli watches the bustle around the Yujing Terrace, a crowd gathered by the railings where they can appreciate a view of the much busier harbor below. In the rapid flow of people, he almost sees phantom echoes of red hair, a red scarf. “He always did like to wander around,” he offers.
Thinking of his older brother spending most of the year away from home being “the greatest toy salesman in the world”, Teucer laughs. “He really did.”
Teucer waves goodbye at Zhongli, having promised to buy souvenirs for his family and toys for the children at his hometown. He looks more relaxed than earlier, as if an important task entrusted to him has been completed and no longer weighs on his shoulders.
Once he’s out of sight, Zhongli moves closer to the incense burner, letting out a sigh. “Barbatos, you’ve had your fun.”
Dry leaves frolic around his feet, the rustle sounding like amused snickers, before the wind lifts up as if caressing the top of his head.
“I’m alright,” he whispers. Golden eyes gleam, trained on wisps of incense smoke as they rise endlessly in contrast to the immeasurable weight in his chest. “People are gone but promises remain. Nothing more.”