Chapter Text
“Oh Chonkli!” Childe sings Chonkli’s name as he swings around the living room door frame. “Zhongli’s out, and you know what that means.”
Chonkli opens one eye from where he sits upon a velvet cushion that Zhongli placed on the windowsill for him, set in the the perfect position to catch the sunlight all morning up until lunchtime, when Chonkli usually relocates himself to a similarly positioned cushion in the bedroom. He chirps softly, then closes his eye again.
Well that’s not being a good team player!
“Come on, Chonkli! Where’s your fighting spirit? We need to come up with that prank for Zhongli. Don’t you remember? Project Thank-And-Prank? One prank to rule them all and in darkness bind them?”
Chonkli opens his eye again and tilts his head to the side.
“It’s a line from a book Father used to— No, never mind. You’re getting up right now, and we’re going to think of this prank. Come on, lazybones!”
Chonkli doesn’t move, so Childe crosses the room and plucks Chonkli from his cushion, much to Chonkli’s dismay. He lets out a disgruntled squeak, legs flailing in the air as Childe marches him to the sofa.
“There.” Childe sets him down on the armrest. “Now you’re going to help me brainstorm.”
It’s been a week since Project Thank-And-Prank was announced, but neither of them have been able to come up with the perfect way to prank Zhongli. Originally, Childe thought about replicating the pranks the children used to play on each other back in Morepesok, but most of those usually ended up with a visit to the hospital, or some variant of public humiliation, neither of which is the desired outcome for Project Thank-And-Prank.
“So,” says Childe, “what are you thinking?”
Chonkli stares at him blankly, and Childe sighs. Nope, absolutely no thoughts in that brain. Looks like it’s all up to him.
“Useless. Fine, let’s start at step one. We want to thank Zhongli for everything he’s done, but also turn it into a prank. So what does Zhongli like that we can use as a base?”
Finally, Chonkli perks up. He dives off the sofa and onto the nearby writing desk, where an empty teacup has been left beside a half finished letter. Chonkli paws at the cup with a soft whine, and Childe gets up to join him.
“Huh, not a bad idea. Zhongli does like his tea. I say we get him a big batch of his favourite, he’ll like that. But how do we then turn that into a prank?”
They could purchase so much that they stuff the entire kitchen full of it. Every drawer, every cupboard, only tea. But Zhongli is particular about these things. He only likes his tea stored in the cupboard at the back right of the kitchen—it has the optimal humidity and temperature for tea storage, according to Zhongli—so there’s a high chance it might distress him more than amuse him.
Operation Too Much Tea is out, so they’ll need to think of something else.
Childe taps his fingers against the desk, hoping it’ll help him think. It doesn’t. Neither does Chonkli picking up an envelope to nudge it against his hand, the corner of it jamming into his poor finger.
“Ow, that hurts!” He confiscates the offending item and taps it absentmindedly against his palm. Right, prank planning. That’s where he was at, before he was rudely interrupted.
Tail flicking side to side, Chonkli growls then nips at his finger, a row of needle sharp teeth sinking into his skin.
“Ow! That hurts too, you little— Cut it out, alright?” Childe snatches his hand away, but Chonkli extends a paw towards the envelope, chirping as it’s swiped out of his reach.
The envelope? Chonkli wants him to look at the envelope?
Strange way to come up with a prank, but it can’t hurt.
It turns out that the envelope is not an empty one, waiting to be filled and sent out, but full and sealed, fresh from the morning’s post. It’s addressed to Childe, but the name and address is written in handwriting he doesn’t recognise, so he turns it over to check the return stamp. The Ministry of Civil Affairs. It’s probably a bill, or a tax notice for one of the million things they like to charge the Fatui—specifically him—for.
A man can’t even breathe in this city without being charged for it.
He starts to open it, already grieving for his bank account, when he catches a smaller stamp in the bottom right corner: Forwarded by the Ministry of Civil Affairs Mail Forwarding Service.
Mail forwarding? He hasn’t asked for any mail forwarding.
His curiosity is soon answered when inside he finds another, smaller envelope, upon which is written the following in handwriting he does very much recognise:
Big Brother
The Bank
Liyue
The writing is undeniably, unmistakably Teucer’s, although the letters are far neater than the last time Childe was home, and instead of fixing a postage stamp to it, he’s drawn a (questionable) picture of Her Majesty, The Tsaritsa in a square at the top right hand corner.
“It’s from my family!” Childe announces to Chonkli, tearing it open. “Teucer’s really been practising his letters. Look how tidy they are now—he’s growing up to be such a great kid. He must have sent this all by himself, or Tonia would’ve put in the proper address for him.”
The address. This is addressed to ‘Big Brother’ at ‘The Bank’. It’s not surprising that it didn’t reach him at Northland Bank—‘The Bank’ is vague at best—but how did the Ministry of Civil Affairs know to send it to…
Actually, some things are better left unanswered.
Inside, there’s a collection of photographs—Teucer, Anthon, and Tonia all sitting around a long, wooden table, a cake placed in front of Teucer and dozens of balloons blown up behind him. A large slice of cake already sits in front of Teucer, filled with jam and meringue and cream, but he’s looking up, holding his arms towards Mother, who is leaning across the table to hand him a big, brightly packaged box.
Teucer’s birthday. It was last month, but Childe hadn’t been able to make it home due to ship scheduling conflicts. He missed last year’s, too, although that had been because of a mission, as well as the year before that.
They just keep on getting older without him, don’t they?
He keeps flipping through the photos, and Teucer looks so happy in each one it’s impossible not to smile, especially when he gets to a picture with him, Anthon, and Tonia sitting on a log, each with a bright blue lollipop in hand, sticking out their tongues, revealing them to be equally as blue. On the back side of each one, Teucer has added various annotations such as, “The cake was really tasty,” or “That log poked my butt. But that’s okay because it poked Anthon and Tonia’s butts, too.”
Even if Childe can’t be there himself, if his siblings are happy, that’s all that matters.
“Come here, Chonkli, check this one.” Childe lowers the photo to Chonkli height. “What do you think? Should we turn your tongue bright blue, too?”
Chonkli shakes his head and scuttles away to hide behind a stack of paper.
“Aww, but you’d look so adorable. If my siblings were here, they wouldn’t be able to resist picking you up and hugging you! Zhongli would, too, come to think of it. Or even better, Zhongli with a blue tongue—can you imagine that? He’d look hilarious!”
Wait.
Zhongli with a blue tongue.
That’s it! That’s the answer! Harmless, funny, and kinda cute.
“Hey, Chonkli, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Chonkli pokes his head out from around the paper stack, tilting it to the side.
“What if we give Zhongli xiansheng a blue tongue?”
Chonkli considers this for a moment, then nods enthusiastically.
“Excellent! Let’s get started then!”
Childe and Chonkli walk through Liyue’s commerce district together. Or rather, Childe walks, Chonkli perched on Childe’s shoulder, face turned into the sea breeze and looking as content as pie.
It must be nice to be royalty.
But there’s no time to lose. They need to get this bought, set up, and done in one day, or Zhongli will notice something is amiss. Step one, tea. Step two, colouring. Step three, home. Step four, prepare the Chonkli and Childe Blue Tea Special. Step five, give the tea to Zhongli and enjoy the show.
“Alright, Chonkli, you’re on lookout duty for somewhere selling food dyes. Let me know if you see anything,” says Childe, lengthening his stride as they head towards the tea shop. “We need to keep this operation quick and efficient. Zhongli is due back at fourteen hundred hours, and it’s almost noon already.”
He takes the corner to the tea shop road sharply, and Chonkli squeaks, digging his front claws into Childe as his hind legs slip from Childe’s shoulder, leaving him dangling on a Childe-shaped precipice.
“Woah, woah, carefully there, little buddy.” Childe catches the chunky mountaineer and deposits him safely back on his ledge, where he lets out a short ‘humph’ of malcontent. “Okay, okay, I’ll slow it down, but it’s your fault if we’re late.”
They continue (far too slowly) down the road to the tea shop, but after a few more minutes and no more Chonkli-related incidents, Childe is pushing open the door into the dimly lit shop. In the centre there’s a wooden display feature set up, consisting of several elevations of fancy tea sets that Zhongli would surely love, but definitely has no more space for in those crammed cupboards of his. Around the edge are boxes of ready-weighed tea leaves, some pre-decorated in gift packaging for a small extra cost, while at the back of the shop, rows upon rows of various teas sit in clear jars, ready to be weighed on the silver scale sitting on the counter in front of them. Sitting behind that counter is the elderly owner of the shop, Mister Xu, a book in hand as he flips through the pages.
Slow day for business, then.
“Mister Xu, good to see you as always!” Childe calls out when he doesn’t look up.
Mister Xu looks up, his expression indicating that seeing a Fatui Harbinger in his shop is anything but good. “Here for business?”
“Yes, lots of good business for your wonderful establishment.” Childe saunters up to the counter. Truthfully, he’s never been in the shop without Zhongli before, but confidence is key; he won’t let this guy smell any kind of weakness. “Your finest oolong tea, please. One jin should be enough.”
“If you want first grade, we have Dragon’s Mane, Tranquil Wind Upon Guili Plains, or Midnight Stroll through the Moonlit Bamboo Forest.”
Huh? Those are tea names? And what the heck is the wind supposed to taste like, or a dragon’s mane? He’s ended up with a mouthful of Zhongli’s hair on many a night when he’s turned too quickly in bed, but it’s definitely not anything he wants in his tea. All he knows is that Zhongli likes his oolong tea, and that’s what he’s here to get.
“Uhh…” Childe looks to Chonkli. “Do you know what the one Zhongli likes is called?
Chonkli nods and points to a jar on the very top shelf.
“What he said,” says Childe.
Mister Xu tuts and pulls his ladder across to fetch it, muttering to himself, “Well if you wanted that one, you should’ve asked for second grade.”
Childe isn’t sure, but he has the feeling that there could possibly be a slight frostiness in the air here. Just maybe. Call it a warrior’s hunch.
“Here.” Mister Xu plonks the jar down in front of him. “Maiden’s Longing Under the Clouded Moonless Sky.”
“She what?”
“Don’t play stupid, Fatuus. You and your pet.”
“Hey, I’m not—” Childe catches himself before he can admit that he really doesn’t have a clue what this guy is on about and changes tact. “He isn’t my pet.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Mister Xu starts to weigh out the tea, balancing it out against a weight he places on the opposite plate. “What is it then?”
A good question. A question that Childe isn’t equipped to answer. He can’t tell this guy, “Oh yeah, don’t worry, this is just an elemental offshoot of your dead Archon who isn’t actually dead, and Chonkli is kind of made of him but also not,” so he shrugs and gives Mister Xu the smile he used to use when he was stationed at Northland Bank and wanted Ekaterina to get someone else to do his paperwork for him. “Don’t worry about it. Isn’t life more fun when there’s a little mystery about it?”
“Not when there’s a rat-looking thing in my tea shop.”
“He’s not a rat. Chonkli is Chonkli.”
“And what, exactly, is a Chonkli?”
This guy is starting to get on his nerves. However, this is also Zhongli’s favourite tea shop, so unfortunately this is neither the time nor place to be picking a fight with its owner.
Fortunately, Childe is in possession of an equally effective diplomatic tool.
Childe produces a hefty pouch of mora and dumps it on the counter. “Tell you what: if you can finish weighing out that tea without asking any more questions, all this is yours. What do you say?”
Mister Xu pauses behind his scale, eyes widening as he mentally weighs exactly how much could be in there, then he nods, resuming his task with renewed fervour. “Of course, Harbinger Tartaglia. How could I refuse such a generous request?”
“Excellent, I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”
It’s not long before Childe and Chonkli are leaving the shop, a packet of Maiden’s Longing Under the Clouded Moonless Sky in Childe’s hand. They don’t have far to walk before Chonkli points out a baking shop selling a variety of shades of powdered food colouring and they enter, picking out the perfect shade of blue to match Zhongli’s tongue.
“Made With A Super Secret, Boredom Banishing Formula!” boasts the packaging. A bit extreme for a bit of food colouring, but businesses have to market themselves somehow, Childe supposes.
Once they’re back at home, Childe takes their spoils to the kitchen and sets them down, trying to calculate how much powder he should add to the tea without alerting Zhongli’s super senses. However, Chonkli sits morosely on the tabletop, tail curled around his body and his antlers drooping downwards.
“Hey, little buddy, what’s up?” Childe boops Chonkli’s nose. “Don’t tell me the mean tea man managed to get to you.”
Chonkli mrrps and nods his head.
Childe puts down his ingredients and sighs. The way Chonkli sits so small on the table reminds him of the time Teucer lost his first baby tooth earlier than most of the other children in his year, leaving a gap in the top row of his teeth, and his classmates at school thought it would be a good idea to tease him, calling him all manner of lovely names such as “Gapface”. Something about it tugs at Childe’s heart (he does still have one, despite what some rumours would say), and he rubs his hand back and forth atop Chonkli’s head.
“Don’t you listen to the rude man. You’re not an “it”, and you look nothing like a rat.”
Although Chonkli does lean into Childe’s petting, he simultaneously flashes him a pointed look.
“Okay, okay, I know I said you looked like a rat once! But that was before we knew each other properly. But now we’re buddies, the best of pals! Right, partner?”
Chonkli rolls his eyes. Childe didn’t know that miniature dragons could do that, but he does now.
“Look, come here.” Childe wraps his scarf around him to create a miniature hammock hanging in front of his chest, then picks up Chonkli and lowers him into it. “You sit here and help me out. Now, tell me, how much of this powder do you think we should put in here to give Zhongli the bluest of blue tongues ever made?”
With a soft chirp, Chonkli snuggles into the scarf-hammock, his body pressed closer to Childe’s chest than Childe will ever get him to admit, and Childe opts to work one-handed, using the other to stroke Chonkli’s fur until small snores bubble from his nose.
It really is kind of like having a younger sibling, Childe thinks as he taps a small amount of blue powder into the tea. And now, they’re going to do what siblings do best: get into a whole lot of mischief.