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There’s a new bar that’s opened on the same street as the blue glass high rise of Liyue Qixing Conglomerate HQ. Tucked between a 40 floor law firm and the headquarters of a rising tech company, The Dew Drinker lures many a weary salaryman into the warm embrace of a beer and quiet from the bustling of the outside world.
And just a block away, the weariest salaryman of them all just got off her seventh evening of unpaid overtime this week.
The crisp October air bites at Keqing’s face as she weaves through the crowded night streets of Shanghai. Walking as fast as her tired legs will take her, Keqing is quick to find herself looking up at the hanging wooden sign with “THE DEW DRINKER” written in… glittery paint? Wow, modern architecture really is going downhill. Keqing pushes the heavy dark oak door open and steps into a moderately sized bar, cramped with low tables and flickering lights hanging between silver pipes in the exposed ceiling. Keqing’s heels stick to the floor as she walks, hunched, to the dirty little bar spanning across the back wall of the building. All of the shiny plastic barstools look brand new, except the one conveniently located directly in the middle of Keqing's line of sight, this stool dirty and chipped. She sits down awkwardly on the singular aged barstool and heaves a long sigh, the sharp smell of bitter alcohol, turmeric, and tobacco filling her senses.
“Hello, could I get you anything?” A melodic voice chimes from behind Keqing.
“Ah, yes, I,” Keqing turns around and-
Wow.
Hair blue like a picturesque sky on a sunny day, water-falling down to frame a heart shaped face containing big, bright eyes; a shocking purple, shadowed by straight black eyelashes, that fades to a rose gold, cupping iridescent irides. A small button nose, comparable to one of a goats, rests perfectly above a pair of baby pink lips.
This must an angel. Yes, of course, Keqing has finally dropped dead from exhaustion and an angel is here to show her the way to hell. Yes, surely this is what has happened, Keqing convinces herself, as rosy cheeks are pushed up by a little smile, shining and holy.
“Uh, yeah, I’ll have a, a Striding Sojourn,” Keqing stutters out the first thing she sees on the menu when she snaps back to reality. “Please.”
The smile widens, just a fraction but by now Keqing is so entranced by this woman that there could be no detail that wouldn’t be noticed, and the chiming voice graces Keqing’s ears yet again.
“Of course,” The beautiful bartender says as she turns away and starts working the random drink Keqing coughed out on a whim.
Keqing takes this time to watch the angel; arms and hands moving confidently in harmony, shoulders going up and down, her light blue har turning into a darker shade as it reaches her mid back, all of it emphasized by the black button down and slacks. After a few seconds, or maybe hours, Keqing finds a bright pink drink in a tall glass in front of her and her mouth filled with candy sweetness.
“I guess I’m all yours tonight,” The bartender lends forward on the bar, forearms propping her up. Keqing, at first, thinks she’s dreaming, but hooded purple pink eyes meet hers and she knows, Keqing knows this is not a dream.
“Yeah. I guess you are,” Keqing replies, looking around at the empty building surrounding them.
“Well, my name is Ganyu. Call me if you need anything,” Ganyu says, cold and low into Keqing’s ear, and then turns away to start cutting lemons. The salaryman is left mouth gaping and eyes wide.
The rest of the evening simply consists of Keqing following every one of Ganyu’s movements like a hawk, Ganyu making direct eye contact with Keqing every few minutes, and Keqing desperately trying to find the courage in herself to start a conversation with the ethereal bartender. She really, really does but something about Ganyu; maybe it’s how she more so floats than walks, maybe it’s the way she never blinks, something about this beautiful lonesome barkeep invokes a deep terror in Keqing like nothing before. And that is what makes this salaryman keep her mouth shut for the remainder of the night.
—
“People all around Shanghai are disappearing.”
—
Keqing goes back to the bar the very next evening. Like a fish to a particularly appetizing worm, Keqing is lured by the thought of cloud blue hair and sharp, sweet smiles. The cold evening air hits her as soon as she clocks out and Keqing speeds to see Ganyu again.
The oak door swings open as Keqing quietly steps inside the bar.
“Hello again,” Ganyu greets when Keqing slides onto one of the crusty red stools. “Keqing right? What can I help you with?”
Scanning the short list of drinks framed in the middle of the wall, Keqing finds that many of the unrecognizable drink names have little doodles drawn in the middle the word, silly scribbles that don’t mean a thing.
“Cute drawings. Did you make them?” Keqing asks, resting her chin on her arm.
“Hm? I don’t know of any drawings,” Ganyu’s head tilts slightly in confusion.
“Oh, uh, well, never mind then,” Blood seeps into Keqing’s cheeks in embarrassment. “Um, so, what would you recommend? To drink?”
“It’s quite hard to choose a definite favourite, but recently I’ve been enjoying what I call the Merciful Hunt,” Ganyu’s voice is wistful as she murmurs this, eyes dim and distant. “It’s an ounce of rice wine, sunsettia brandy, white rum, and qingxin liqueur poured over cracked ice into an old-fashioned.”
“Then I’ll have one of those,” Keqing says quickly, the bar seemingly getting darker and colder as Ganyu goes on.
“Wise choice,” Ganyu comments with a small smile before heading off to grab a bottle off the shelf.
—
“Authorities suspect the disappearances may be connected, as all victims so far have been young women in their mid to late twenties with average height.”
—
This goes on every night for the next two weeks. Keqing not even thinking before she head straight to The Dew Drinker after work, possessed by an inexplicable need to hear Ganyu’s soft voice and see her demure laugh. Her thoughts are consumed by the barkeep and Keqing is distracted. But she can’t afford to be distracted. Keqing can’t afford to lose out on a few more hours, or even minutes; downing sake and whiskey and fruity cocktails with Ganyu. No, that won’t do at all.
Keqing becomes quicker, barely looking things before sending it out to the boss (Ningguang has definitely noticed something’s up) and stops double checking everything, no more micromanaging every coworker and subordinates actions, and she stops staying overtime.
—
“Stay in the light and avoid dark spaces.”
—
“Ganyu,” Keqing calls out one very late evening as she sits at her usual place at the bar, looking around at the musty establishment.
“Yes, Keqing?”
“Why is it that I’m the only one ever in here?”
“Ah. Keqing, it looks like I’m out of tonic water. You’ll be fine without me for a few moments while I go get some right?”
“Hm? Oh yeah, no, that’s fine.”
Keqing stays until 2 AM, laying her head on the smooth bartop, staring down the legs of the old stool. Ganyu never comes back.
—
“We suggest all women in the Shanghai area to travel in groups.”
—
Today was a long day. Much too long, and for the first time in a while, Keqing doesn’t feel like going to the Dew Drinker to wash away her problems with cocktails and a purple pink eyed barkeep. Keqing’s heels click heavily on the concrete as she walks to the subway station, but when she finally decides that, yes, she will simply head home today, no need to bother Ganyu for yet another night in a row, a splitting pain snaps through Keqing’s head and her ears are filled with ringing.
“Ahhh… What the fuck?”
Grabbing some aspirin that she keeps in her bag, Keqing clutches the little bottle as she stumbles into a dirty restroom, quickly swallowing down a few dry. Keqing grasps the small counter, pushing her palms into the cheap metal, knuckles going white. It takes Keqing just over an hour for the pain to subside to a dull throb at the back of her skull.
The salaryman jogs up and out of the subway station to take a taxi home, deciding that the musty smell of the old trains wouldn’t do any good for her head.
“Keqing? Is that you?” Worried purple pink eyes are suddenly meeting Keqing’s, something soft coming up to and coping her cheek - a warm hand steadying her frazzled pace.
“Ganyu? What are you doing here?”
“I was running some errands and I saw you limping around. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“Oh, no, Ganyu I’m fine, it’s just a headache. I’m on my way to take a taxi home and get some rest.”
“Are you sure? I can take you home instead,” Ganyu moves her hand, fingertips red from the chill of the thick Shanghai air, to Keqing’s, the sleeve of Ganyu’s fluffy winter coat brushing against Keqing’s own.
“Don’t you have errands to run?” Keqing asks with a slight smile. “I’ll be fine, Ganyu. I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself.”
Keqing turns to leave, sliding her hand out of Ganyu’s grasp.
“No! But, you don’t need to. My errands aren’t nearly as important as getting my favorite customer home safely,” Ganyu says firmly and with too bright eyes and way too much conviction. “Please, Keqing. Let me take you home.”
Well. Who was Keqing to resist God’s will?
—
“Lock your doors and windows.”
—
Hook, line, sinker.
Keqing never, ever skips her nightly duty to The Dew Drinker anymore.
Although, now instead of thin plastic straw between her teeth, it’s soft cold lips on hers, chapped and warm. Keqing is drunk on the dark looks Ganyu passes to her between cleaning unused glasses and organizing already organized shelves.
With her diffident and innocent demeanor it’s easy to see Ganyu as some sort of sheltered little girl, to be protected from the shadows going thump in the night. Keqing’s preconceptions are quickly dispersed by the filthy way Ganyu stares into her eyes, onto her lips, down her off the rack suits. Like Ganyu is starving. Like Keqing is going to be her next meal.
Keqing’s not sure if she minds.
—
“Keep your head down and try to get home as soon as possible.”
—
Ganyu was her first.
First kiss, first date, first love.
Keqing’s never felt anything like this before, never imagined anything could feel this sweet. Being with Ganyu makes time slow down, turning into a thick molasses that suspends Keqing in its vicious for just a moment, and then drowns her in sticky sweetness; Ganyu’s seraphic face beaming down as Keqing’s saviour, offering shots on the house.
“What would this honoured customer like to order today?” Ganyu leans across the bar, getting into Keqing’s space, their noses a hairs breath away from each other.
“It seems like I’ve already tried everything on the menu, barkeep. What would you recommend?”
“A new import has recently arrived. If you’d like, honoured customer, I could bend the rules a little and let you see out back,” Ganyu straightens her back, holds out a perfect pianist hand, and leads Keqing away down to the pits of hell.
“Are there lights down here?” Keqing stumbles behind Ganyu as they walk down a strongly long hall, clutching Ganyu’s arm like a lifeline.
“No,” Ganyu replies with a darling smile.
They stop in front of a rusty iron door at the very end of the hallway, which Ganyu then pushes open, the creaking of the hinges cracking sharp through the old air. It leads to a pitch black room that hits Keqing with the heavy sour smell of something rotting.
Keqing lets go of Ganyu’s arm.
“Uh, Ganyu? Where are we?”
The naked concrete wall of the room presses into Keqing’s back when she’s slammed into it by Ganyu’s soft hands on her shoulders. The angelic bartender is suddenly all around Keqing, their bodies merging, one start and one end. Goosebumps pop across Keqing’s arms, shoulders, chest as Ganyu pries off cheap fabric and exposes the salaryman to a cold air coming from nowhere.
“Keqing. Forgive me,” Ganyu’s reverent whisper is shaky as it brushes against Keqing’s neck, leaden with hunger and inconceivable want.
A fire is set in Keqing’s veins, rushing through her tissues, muscles convulsing against Ganyu. She chokes on, something, nothing, as the room gets smaller and Ganyu gets bigger; hair flipping in the imaginary wind, filling the corners of the square room. Blinding light swims under layers of Ganyu’s clear skin, skin Keqing has always been jealous of since they met; Ganyu’s waist gripped in her hands, Ganyu’s arms holding her like something precious, Ganyu’s teeth tearing through Keqing’s neck like it’s divine right, all melting away into the dirty air until.
Keqing's body falls limp, dripping with burning blood, and Ganyu resumes her physical form once again.
“Ah. Keqing. You were perfect.”
—
“If you see anything suspicious, anything at all, please contact the authorities immediately.”
—
Keqing’s face is red with the crisp October evening air as she pushes against the currents of Shanghai’s streets.
There’s a new bar that’s opened on the same street as Liyue Qixing Conglomerates looming blue glass high rise. It’s called the Dew Drinker.