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Childe knew he was far past the time when his lunch break was supposed to end, as he trekked up the cracked, weather-worn brick path that traced the face of Mt. Hulao, with sweat dripping down the nape of his neck and a few paper bags of take-out containers from Wanmin Restaurant tucked under one arm, but Zhongli always showed up at precisely noon to the Northland Bank so they could eat together, and when he hadn’t appeared, Childe had asked after his whereabouts at the funeral parlor, only for Hu Tao said he’d taken the day off to spend atop Mount Hulao, of all things.
So, after picking up their lunch from Xiangling, the harbinger set off for Mount Hulao. Admittedly, it was only partially because he enjoyed Zhongli’s company a little too much, having not gone a day without it since he first arrived in Liyue, and partially because he was avoiding the mountain of paperwork clogging up his office, by climbing another, much more literal mountain.
Maybe he could convince Ekaterina to forge his signature while he went out debt collecting. It wasn’t like fraud was the worst crime he had ever committed.
The stone path faded into yellowed grass, Childe’s dirt-scuffed boots sinking into the plush dirt as he peered across the clearing at the summit, at the winding branches of pine trees still green despite the cold winter weather, at the thin layer of ice that covered the natural pond nestled amidst the moss-coated outcrops of rock that formed the majority of Jueyun Karst.
He caught sight of his target — an elegant figure, silhouetted in the midday light, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the cliff that overlooked Chenyu Vale. If Childe hadn’t known what he was looking for, if not for the gentle breeze the played with silky strands of dark hair and the delicate drapings of black fabric, he might have assumed he was observing a statue.
“Zhongli-xiansheng!” Warm relief filled the young harbinger’s chest — as if he’d been worried about actually finding the older man, which was ridiculous — and he allowed himself to pick up his pace, trotting over to plop onto the grass at his missing companion’s side. “You missed lunch. What are you doing all the way up here?”
The dark eyelashes splayed over pale skin fluttered, and eyes the color of molten gold shifted to meet his, blinking a few times before registering the identity of the young man who had spoken.
“Oh. Childe.” The facets of his features — so delicate and beautiful it was as if they’d been sculpted from porcelain — softened into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My apologies. It seems I lost track of time. I had no intentions of missing our usual appointment, I assure you.”
It was then that the young man noticed the changes within the former archon’s appearance. Instead of a low ponytail, the silken locks of his hair had been clasped up high, secured with a gold hairpiece that complemented the embroidery and soft ochre tones of his simple, yet very clearly well-made hanfu, the silk fabric spilling over the ground around his legs and down his arms. Under the sunlight, he almost glowed, and Childe absently wondered how anyone could have ever missed the fact that he was Rex Lapis. Himself included.
“Appointment? You make it sound so formal.” The young harbinger allowed himself to grin, leaning back on his arms and stretching out his legs in front of him. His grey overjacket fell further open, having been unbuttoned halfway up the mountain as he started to sweat with the exertion of climbing, leaving him in just his maroon shirt — also mostly unbuttoned — and accompanying leather harness, the cool chill a balm against his flushed skin. “No hard feelings, xiansheng, I‘ll take any excuse to get out of work. What are you doing up here, anyway? Unless there are invisible monsters hiding around that you aren’t telling me about, everything seems pretty quiet. Not much reason to be scaling mountains.”
A noncommittal, amused hum.
“Unfortunately, I do happen to be up here enjoying the quiet.” Zhongli’s small smile never left his lips, nor did the gentle twinkle in his eye, as he turned to gaze over the mountain range, tilting his face up to the sun with closed eyelids and a long exhale. “I am meditating. It is cleansing for the mind, to simply allow oneself to take in the surrounding environment, without the worry of distraction. Why don’t you try?”
Childe scrunched up his face, dubious, but settled into the position Zhongli modeled, legs crossed, hands on his knees, and closed his eyes.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“You did this all day?” Childe questioned aloud.
“Indeed.”
“This is boring as shit.”
That surprised a laugh out of Zhongli, who turned to watch Childe unfold himself and reach for the bags of food he’d toted up the mountain, rifling through to split the packages between the two of them. He hadn’t exactly known what to order, since Zhongli usually took care of that part, but he’d taken Xiangling’s suggestions, and by the pleased hum the former archon let out as he delicately picked up a piece of roasted pork with his chopsticks, she had chosen correctly.
It was only when Childe pulled out a fork and knife that the full force of Zhongli’s glare landed on the offending utensils.
“Come on, xiansheng, can’t I use them just this once?” the young harbinger whined. “We’re eating outside —“
“Either you eat with chopsticks or I hand-feed you until you do. You will not massacre Miss Xiangling’s Liyuean culinary endeavors with those as long as I still breathe.” Zhongli’s voice dripped with disdain, though his vehemence was now pointed toward the young man at his side.
“Alright, alright, calm down before you give yourself a heart attack, old man.” With longing reluctance, Childe shoved the utensils into an empty bag and pulled out a pair of chopsticks, digging into his own food with a small scrunch of his freckled nose. “Hu Tao would kill me if I had to bring her your dead body.”
Zhongli sniffed, and replied, “Eat, before it gets cold,” which might have been the politest shut the fuck up Childe had ever experienced.
As it was, Childe found himself intently listening to Zhongli ramble on about the history of different meditation techniques while they enjoyed their — belated — lunch. He didn’t understand half of what was said, but Zhongli’s voice was warm and deep, like the almond tofu he’d been served at Wangshu Inn, or the sweet buns Xiangling often offered as a dessert, nothing like the grating drone of military commanders or the haughty sneer of the other harbingers. Childe could — and, most likely, had, at some point — listen to the man explain the development of Liyue’s sewer system for hours, and find it absolutely enthralling.
“Perhaps you would find martial techniques of meditation more beneficial,” Zhongli mused, breaking Childe out of his shameless ogling of the former archon’s elegant profile beneath the sunlight. “Cloud Retainer did mention Shenhe found peace in her practices of tàijíquán…”
“Martial techniques? Like fighting?” Childe perked up.
A hum of confirmation, and a slight, hopelessly amused sidelong glance.
“Indeed. There are many martial forms that can benefit the cultivation of a healthy mind, as well as a healthy body.”
The way Childe’s ice-blue eyes brightened could be construed as manic by any sane observer.
“Does that mean you’ll fight me?”
He’d been trying to get Zhongli to spar with him for ages. Ever since he’d met him, really, and saw the way his body moved, the shift of hidden, but well-earned muscles beneath the deceptive layers of painted silk and perfect manners. Finding out his identity as the geo archon only exacerbated such desires, even if it had taken more than a few conversations for him to understand that Zhongli hadn’t been faking their friendship, and did sincerely view him as more than just a pawn in his retirement plan.
Zhongli, in response to Childe’s excitement, let out a huff, even as a smile softened the corners of his mouth.
“If you so desire, I will teach you unarmed combat, as a way to focus your mind and develop your qi. Not to overpower your opponent,” he responded.
Childe hardly even shoved away his finished food before jumping to his feet with an insistent, “Well? No better time to learn than the present,”, radiating impatience while Zhongli rose with much more grace, after collecting their empty takeout boxes in a neat pile with a pointed look at the younger man that went entirely ignored.
Childe knew his skills were nothing to be scoffed at. He was the Tsaritsa’s Vanguard for a reason, after all. He’d spent years, learning to hone his body into a well-oiled machine, both in the abyss with Skirk, and within the ranks of the Fatui.
Zhongli made him look like a gangly child. Even without any weapons, his movements were purposeful and radiated the experience garnered over millennia, his elegant form as solid as the mountain beneath their feet. Within the first few moments of their impromptu lesson, he had Childe thrown to the ground with little more than a twist of his hips and a shift of his upper body.
Childe had never had so much fun in his life. Even after they’d finished, and began their descent back to the harbor, he still burned with energy, cheeks flushed with exertion and shirt unbuttoned and askew, jacket tossed over one arm, strands of auburn hair soaked in sweat that dripped down the nape of his neck.
“Should I call you sensei now, Zhongli-xiansheng?” the young harbinger teased, a wide grin creasing his cheeks.
“If I were from Inazuma, you would call me sensei, yes,” Zhongli replied. He looked perfect, as always, not a hair out of place. “In Liyue, the correct term is shifu. You may call me such if you wish.” The way he said it, with an imperceptible amount of exasperation, implied that he very much hoped Childe wouldn’t.
Childe’s following low bow, and impish, “Shifu,” had Zhongli reaching out to tweak his nose before he could dart away, rumbling, “Cheeky rascal,” with molten eyes that danced with hopeless amusement.
~
Such sparring sessions soon became somewhat regular between the pair of men. While they still spent lunch together, as often as their work allowed, many weekends were punctuated with evening outings to Jueyun Karst, where the ever-patient Zhongli taught Childe the intricacies of different Liyuean martial arts, which the harbinger devoured with the ease of the military general he was.
On one very memorable occasion, Childe managed to land a hit to Zhongli’s chest, and immediately cracked his knuckles in the process. Apparently, Zhongli neglected to inform him of the fact that he was literally made of stone, or some strange adepti equivalent. Doctor Baizhu definitely examined them both with an odd expression while Qiqi healed the minor fractures after they arrived Bubu pharmacy.
“How did you say this happened again?” The Dendro Vision holder asked.
“I punched Zhongli in the ribs.” Childe hadn’t been deterred at all by his injury, and by the smug pride that laced his tone, it would be easy to assume he’d just won a game of mahjong against the older man, instead of, conceivably, breaking his hand against his torso.
“I see.” If Childe didn’t know any better, he might have thought that Zhongli looked almost chagrined, and a little sheepish, beneath the weight of Baizhu’s judgement. “I doubt my words will lead to any change in your behavior, but please, do be more careful in the future.”
As expected, they did not, and a few days later he got a deeply displeased scolding from Zhongli after showing up to their session covered in blood. The fact that it wasn’t his didn’t seem to make the former archon feel any better.
Childe had never been happier, even if he was stuck overseeing the Northland Bank instead of hunting down the remaining archons and their gnoses.
It was this positive mood that had him calling out when he spotted the Traveler on his way out of the bank on a particularly sunny late morning, a cheerful, “Comrade! It’s been a while,” that had the golden-haired young man and his flying fairy companion turning toward the sound of his voice.
Aether’s deadpan, “Oh, god, not you again,” was overshadowed by Paimon’s high-pitched, “Childe! What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be out doing evil harbinger things?”
The harbinger in question just grinned, completely unperturbed by their less-than-ecstatic greeting.
“Being a harbinger is a little bit more than constantly fighting, unfortunately. Say, why don’t we catch up over lunch at Wanmin? All on me.”
Luckily, the allure of free food was too strong for them to deny, even if it was a bit early for lunch, and Childe soon found himself sitting at his and Zhongli’s usual table with two extra occupants, listening to the summary of their adventures in Sumeru and regaling them with tales of his own.
The warmth of a leather-gloved hand resting between his shoulder blades had him pausing mid-sentence, glancing up at the familiar, elegant gentleman at his side with a pleased grin and a, “You’re early today, old man. Tired of Hu Tao already?”
A soft, impossibly fond hum, golden eyes glimmering beneath the sunlight.
“Good morning to you, too, qīn’ài de.”
Aether choked on a gulp of his coffee.
After a bout of uncontrollable coughs, during which Childe and Zhongli hovered with concern and Paimon patted him on the back, the traveler managed to get out a hoarse, “What the fuck did you just call him?”
Childe narrowed his eyes.
“What, qīn’ài de? Is it bad?” He scowled at Zhongli, who, for some inexplicable reason, had the faintest hints of a blush coloring his high cheekbones. “This old fossil refuses to tell me what it means, and Ekaterina laughed at me when I asked. Tsaritsa’s tits, Zhongli, if you’ve been making fun of me in front of Xiangling —“
Aether gaped at him, and then Zhongli, completely speechless.
“You — you —“ he sputtered. “Him? Really?”
Delicately, Zhongli cleared his throat, his blush refusing to recede, and responded, “Perhaps we should turn to other matters. I would like to hear of your endeavors in Sumeru, with Lord Kusanali, if you are willing.”
“Not until you tell me what that means.” To punctuate his point, Childe raised an eyebrow, though he made no move to push away the hand that still rested on his upper back. He had a decent grasp on Liyue’s language, at least enough to be conversational, but there were a few phrases he didn’t have any exposure to, and this was one of them. Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to want to tell him what it meant, either.
“It is a colloquial term for half-eaten cabbage.”
Silence.
Childe squinted up at Zhongli’s blank expression.
The corner of the older man’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly.
“You’re making fun of me,” Childe accused, groaning when Zhongli simply broke into a barely-suppressed chuckle and took the remaining seat at his side. “I’ll get it out of someone one of these days, xiansheng, just you wait.”
“I’m sure you will, Childe.”
Even as the conversation continued, Zhongli kept a gloved hand right next to his, close enough that their knuckles brushed every time the harbinger fumbled with his chopsticks, cursing quietly under his breath at the infuriating complexity of Liyue’s dining utensils. They never usually sat so close, instead preferring to sit across from each other, and now Childe silently wished he hadn’t ever invited the Traveler and Paimon to lunch, because Zhongli was fucking distracting, with his gold-tipped locks of hair that spilled down the back of his tailored suit in a low ponytail, and the way his molten amber eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, heat radiating from the thigh that brushed up against his.
“Childe.”
“Wha — huh?” Caught off guard, his response was half-muffled by the dumpling he finally managed to shove into his mouth. He’d been too preoccupied with his food — and Zhongli — to pay attention to the turn of the conversation.
“Your hand will ache if you continue to hold them like that.” Leather-gloved fingers reached out, adjusting his grip on the chopsticks with well-practiced efficiency. “Be mindful of your injury. I do not want to have to visit Doctor Baizhu a second time.”
“Oh, great, what did you manage to do this time and how did you get Zhongli involved?” Aether drawled out, eyeing the tender way Zhongli’s thumb rubbed over the back of Childe’s wrist with a distinctly unimpressed look.
“I punched him in the ribs,” Childe said through another mouthful of pork dumpling.
“Please refrain from speaking with your mouth full,” Zhongli chided.
“Of course you did.” Aether sighed aloud, taking another long draught of coffee, and stared out at the bustling streets of the harbor with barely disguised longing. “Let me guess, this was during one of your evening dates to Jueyun Karst. Only you two would punch each other and view it as an acceptable social activity.”
A date?
Childe’s stunned silence, jaw gaping open, went entirely unnoticed above the sound of Zhongli’s offended huff, and his haughty response of, “There is very minimal punching involved. Liyuean internal martial arts is a perfectly common activity for adults of all ages, and, in fact…”
The low tones of the former archon’s voice faded into white noise, a rare occurrence, as the Traveler’s words echoed through Childe’s skull.
Date. Date. Date.
~
Zhongli was still on his mind by the end of the week, to the point where his subordinates were able to pick up on his relative inattentiveness around matters of work.
“Andrei, clean that up.” Childe’s command echoed through the main foyer of the bank. Speckles of blood marred one side of his face, and he sighed as he pulled off his soiled archer’s glove, streaks of rust-red smeared over his knuckles and crusted beneath his nails. He would have to launder his jacket before his next outing with Zhongli, so as not to upset Liyue’s general populace.
“Sir?”
It took him a moment to recognize Ekaterina calling for his attention.
“Hm? Oh, yes, just another one of Dottore’s men trying to get their hands on a vial of my blood, Katya.” He refrained from continuing until Andrei had retreated into the back room, unofficially dubbed the interrogation room, which currently held the screaming body of a hapless Fatui foot soldier. “Add him into the business roster, and be sure that he gets back to Dottore intact.”
“Yes, sir.” A few moments of silence. “Forgive my impertinence, Lord Harbinger, but you seem… distracted.“
Childe paused, and then, “Katya, are Zhongli-xiansheng and I dating?”
Ekaterina stared at him from behind the oak counter. It was difficult to ascertain her emotions behind the frame of her mask, and the drape of her chestnut bangs, but it looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.
“I’m not sure that’s a question you should be asking me, sir,” she responded. “Wouldn’t Mister Zhongli know the answer to that?”
“I can’t just ask him.” Childe scowled at the secretary and tore a hand through his mess of auburn hair. “I’m probably only imagining things, but the Traveler said we were going on dates, and —“
“Perhaps I have something that might help.”
She ducked down for a brief moment, rummaging through the cabinets of her desk, before pulling out a giant book and setting it on the polished counter with a thud.
Childe craned closer to peer down at the cover.
“Dating in Liyuean for Dummies?” Baffled, he squinted at his secretary, as if she’d lost her mind. “Why the fuck would I need this?”
Ekaterina sighed.
“Just… trust me. Read it.” She pushed it in his direction.
Even though he was starting to doubt her sanity, the young harbinger examined the cover once more before scooping it up and striding over to his office, flicking through the pages and absently scanning over the inked characters on the paper. Maybe there would be a reference to some obscure custom that would explain everything about his relationship with Zhongli.
Ten minutes later, a muffled, “Holy shit!” and the slam of Childe’s office door flying open, followed by a much louder, “Katya! Get in here!” startled Ekaterina out of her pile of bank statements.
“Sir?” She rushed into the well-furnished room, only to find Childe hunched over the book at his desk, surrounded by various spare weapons, stabbing a finger toward the words on the page with bloody hands he hadn’t bothered to clean.
“Read this.”
She ignored the red fingerprints that littered the crinkled paper and scanned the subject matter in question that had her boss so incensed.
“‘Qīn’ài de is a Liyuean term that, when directly translated, means ‘dear’ or ‘darling’.” Ekaterina shot him an odd look. “I’m not sure what the problem is, sir.”
“That’s what Zhongli calls me!” he burst out.
“… Yes, it is.”
“He calls me darling.” The harbinger flopped back into his chair, shocked into a blank stare at the wall across from his desk.
“That does seem to be the case, sir.”
Ekaterina took a half-step backward when she received no response, prepared to let her boss sit in silence for as long as it took for his brain to start working again, when he stated, “It could be a platonic darling. Lots of people call their friends darling.”
“Lord Tartaglia, forgive my impudence, but if you think Mister Zhongli is calling you darling platonically, I am going to hit you over the head,” the secretary said bluntly. “The man proposed to you. It is not platonic.”
“He did what?”
~
The fucking chopsticks.
After Ekaterina explained the meaning behind the stupidly expensive dragon-and-Phoenix chopsticks that Zhongli had made him pay for, Childe was fully ready to storm down to the funeral parlor and give the man a piece of his mind for not telling him sooner. With his fists. Or his mouth. He wasn’t picky.
Unfortunately, the one singular time he actually needed to find Zhongli, the former archon was nowhere to be found. According to the letter Ekaterina helpfully pointed out amongst the mess of papers on his desk, he and Hu Tao were conducting urgent business in Qingce village, and wouldn’t be back until the start of the Lantern Rite Festival in a week.
If it hadn’t been for Ekaterina grabbing him by the scruff of his jacket and threatening to write to the Tsaritsa herself if he used up any more unscheduled leave because of Zhongli, he would have marched down to Qingce village, too. As it was, he was forced to sulk back to his office and silently seethe at the fact that Zhongli had proposed and hadn’t said anything. Then again, it seemed like he had a habit of refraining from telling people very important things. Like the whole being a god thing.
Oh shit. Would his parents be upset that he was marrying a god? Would the Tsaritsa? He would have to write to them and ask.
The one good thing about Zhongli’s absence, was that it allowed Childe to calm down a little after his new revelations as to the nature of their relationship. It also meant that nobody had to witness his embarrassing display of weakness as he trekked over to Ekaterina’s apartment for help putting on the brand new hanfu he had commissioned a month prior, on the first night of the Lantern Rite Festival.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he groaned aloud as she helped him wrap and tie the layers of painted blue silks, ranging in shades of deep, vibrant ocean teal to near-white. “I haven’t worn one of these before.”
“With as much time as you’ve spent around the illustrious Mister Zhongli —“ She pointedly yanked the sash tight enough around his abdomen to make him wince. “I would have thought you’d have learned by now.”
“We spar and eat lunch, it’s not like I’m taking off his clothes or anything —“ A pause as he realized what Ekaterina meant, and an irritated exclamation of, “Does everyone think we’re fucking during our sparring sessions?”
“Sir, full offense intended, but if you could see what you look like after you return from one of those, you would agree with us.”
After wrangling the fabric into submission, arguing with Ekaterina over the merits of hiding a knife up his giant sleeves in the circumstance that he somehow lost both his vision and delusion, and peering into a mirror to be sure his gold earrings were in place, he was finally suitably ready to head down to the harbor.
“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Childe offered. “I heard the Traveler is bringing a few friends from Inazuma, now that the Sakoku decree has been lifted.”
“Andrei and I are going out for drinks with the rest of the Fatui stationed at the bank, but thank you for the offer, sir.” She smoothed out the silk across his shoulders, and used the opportunity to not-so-gently shove him out her door. “Enjoy the festival, and please don’t bother me again until work hours.”
The streets were crowded by the time Childe managed to make his way down to Chihu Rock, market stalls with lines of customers inhabiting every free space, just like the rows of lanterns that weaved through the air, bathing everything in a warm orange glow. Children giggled and sprinted around the legs of unsuspecting passersby, pointing with animated delight at the kites that floated high above the city, and with each inhale Childe took, the heady smell of rich spices invaded his senses, laughter and chatter filling his ears as he approached the lively group of people surrounding one of the outdoor tables at Third-Round Knockout.
“Childe-dà gē!”
A small child tackled the harbinger’s legs, and, startled, he stumbled, chuckling at the young girl he recognized as Yaoyao’s enthusiasm.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Yaoyao,” he teased, not hesitating to lift her up into his arms, the bells attached to her braided bow hairstyle jingling with her delighted giggle. “Did Madam Ping leave you here all by yourself?”
“No, silly.” She huffed, but her smile didn’t fade. “I’m supposed to be making sure Uncle Zhongli and Auntie Xianyun don’t get into trouble.”
Zhongli.
At the mention of his name, Childe glanced up, catching sight of the former archon in all his regal glory, standing next to a woman of the same height, with willowy, lithe limbs cloaked in a form-fitting black dress, highlighted by a teal-and-white shawl that gave the impression of wings when she moved.
Despite her objective beauty, her gaze wasn’t the one that sent a shiver down the harbinger’s spine.
Molten gold eyes stared straight into his, pupils blown wide, with all the intensity of a hungry predator. The delicate cor lapis pin that held locks of dark hair in a bun matched the whirls of gold embroidery dancing across umber silks, gleaming like the wings of geo crystalflies beneath the moonlight, and if Childe wasn’t mistaken, the subtle amber glow of those irises and the tips of windswept bangs wasn’t just due to the light of the lanterns.
Even amidst greetings and introductions to the Traveler’s Inazuman friends, Yoimiya and Thoma, Childe could feel the burning weight of Zhongli’s gaze on him, solid and unwavering.
“Where’d you get this?” Aether poked at the loose blue sleeve of his hanfu, grudgingly impressed. “It looks good.”
“You actually don’t look like you were bathing in the blood of your enemies, for once!” Paimon chirped in agreement.
“Hey, I will have you know, bathing in the blood of your enemies is good for your skin.” Childe winked, ignoring the not-so-subtle insult toward his hygiene, and lazily allowed himself to slip a hand into a hidden pocket and pull out a bag of mora, recognizing the signs of impatient boredom within the Traveler’s companions. “I saw some merchants selling dragon’s beard candy on my way here. Why don’t you take your friends down to buy some?” His smile betrayed nothing of his ulterior motives. “Consider it a welcome to Liyue gift from me.”
“Ooh.” Paimon’s face lit up, and she snatched up the bag of mora with lightning-fast ease. “Yes, please.”
Aether’s face scrunched up, but when Yaoyao tugged at his pant leg and said, “Auntie Xianyun hasn’t attended a Lantern Rite Festival in three hundred years, can we get some for her, too?” he let out a long sigh of, “Alright, all of you, come on. We’re getting food.”
They left in groups, with Yoimiya sprinting off in front, Thoma questioning, “How old is your Auntie Xianyun?” to Yaoyao who skipped at his side, Aether behind them trying to wrangle the bag of mora from Paimon, and the elegant woman in the teal shawl, who Childe assumed was “Auntie Xianyun,” following last, only giving Childe one glance from behind her red glasses before gliding along after the Traveler.
That left just him and Zhongli.
And the rest of Liyue harbor, milling about for the festival, but that was irrelevant.
“Zhongli-xiansheng, it’s been so long.” Despite his teasing tone, Childe could feel the edges of his smile soften at the older man’s approach. “You weren’t too bored without me, I hope.”
The black satin of Zhongli’s glove slid over the silk sash that bound his robes in place, pressing the weight of his palm into his lower back, drawing him close enough that he, in turn, looped an arm around the former archon’s waist, relishing in the warmth his body radiated.
“Ajax.” Gold eyes watched him with lazy, predatory intensity. His voice had dropped to a low rumble, akin to a tiger’s purr.
“How do I look?” Childe’s grin flashed his teeth, sharklike and goading, the ocean blue of his irises reflecting the intermittent, bobbing glow of the floating lanterns. “Up to your standards?”
“Incorrigible rascal.” Zhongli’s free hand rose to cup his jaw, thumb smoothing over a freckled cheek, the satin of his glove soft and smooth. His gaze melted into something much more fond. “You are aware of how lovely you look.”
“Maybe I want to hear it from you.” The harbinger leaned up to murmur in his ear, “Qīn’ài de.”
“Ah.” A pink blush rose across the former archon’s cheekbones, and he seemed to be at a loss for words, such a rare occurrence that it made Childe’s grin widen, his smug expression not dissimilar to a cat batting at a mouse with sheathed claws.
“For future reference, zólotse, don’t use obscure ancient Liyuean traditions to propose,” the young harbinger stated. “Especially if the other person isn’t aware that we were even dating.”
“I…” Zhongli blinked, and flushed a little deeper. “It was… more of an offer, if you were to become aware of the meaning. I did not want to lose the friendship I value so dearly to a rejection.”
“Well, sucks for you, because I already wrote to the Tsaritsa to ask her permission.” Childe bumped their noses together, only pausing to muse, “And my family. They’ll probably want to meet you before anything else, so we’ll have to make travel plans —“
Zhongli’s features went slack.
“You’ll still have me?” His tone was soft with hope. “Even after —“
Childe, in answer, tilted his head up to kiss him.