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Yelan had lost the shameful amount of 500.000 mora in one sole night – if she had a bit of decency left in her, she’d also admit that she had lost a bet and that amount in less than two hours.
She fell for the oldest trick in the book, trusting her fellow players because they were women, exactly like her, so where was the reason to doubt? She wasn’t even working that night so a bit of play and games wouldn’t have hurt – and even if they did, that would have been even better. Some tea, a couple of Fontanian cigarettes – the same one Ningguang used to smoke, now changed to some odd Natlan ones with a more earthy undertone, whatever that meant –, Inazuman rice wine and some Fine Tea, Full Moon to finish it off; it was too comfortable, too easy to be lulled by the smoke and the drinks.
She didn’t notice it was too late until the whole table erupted in laughter.
“Thank you, miss!” One of the girls said too loudly, an almost dirty ripple of smugness ruining her pretty tone. “We should do this again!”
They made a fool out of her: that sort of ache never settled well in her, but, hey, pain was pain, she won’t turn it away.
The walk home was one made of shame. She kept her eyes down low, ignored the people trying to bid her goodnight or genuinely asking if she was alright: she knew she was stumbling, her steps uneven, her knee giving out many times on her way home, but she didn’t care. She honestly couldn’t bring herself to care.
It was late, extremely so, late enough for all the shops to be closing off after their long days, late enough for the moon to be hung up in the sky to witness her pathetic downfall. Yelan couldn’t help the loud snicker in the empty street, echoing off the walls for no one in particular to hear.
Weren’t for outside factors, she’d break in somewhere and just take a nap there. Weren’t for her role in Liyue’s sturdy and respectful socio-political landscape, she’d fall on the ground, nose first, hopefully breaking it in the process, maybe she’d spoil herself with a good four hours of sleep, the most she’d had in a month.
It was getting bad again.
There were times where Yelan was at the top of her game: she’d complete all of her missions so fast and efficiently, she’d even move to help with other people’s pile of work. Nothing was too hard, nothing was too much, she’d just finish and move on, go out for inspection herself, take on everyone’s responsibilities and never, never out of kindness, no, just to show off to the entirety of Teyvat that if she wished, she would have.
But the other times? They were becoming more frequent and unnervingly predictable. It felt as if she wasn’t in control of her own body, like her choice had no consequences nor meaning; money, health, control… they meant nothing. So she’d throw herself in the arms of danger, she’d take the worst decision, fully knowing that it would have brought only pain and setbacks. She never made the conscious decision to hide herself when those times hit, but she also knew that people around her notice and knew .
Although no one had the courage to actually ask her, they all send her very knowing gazes: from the softer but never quite pitiful eyes Yanfei would look at her with, even when they were eating dinner, even when she had the courage to tell her that she smelled bad, she never once tried to scold her into taking care of herself better; same thing with Ninnguang, whose distant eyes sometimes cracked with fondness whenever she’d give her “mandatory resting days”; even the people at the Yanshang teahouse wished for her to rest – to avoid the casino going into debt, probably.
She kept on walking, unwillingly and without meaning it: were it for her sake, she’d stop walking, moving, breathing – but yet again, here she was, with stuttering steps right in front of familiar streets. It was a slow realization that she walked unconsciously right home.
Speaking of home, the prettiest sight for sore eyes was waiting for her just at the doorstep, too busy putting on her shoes to even notice her stumbling steps – more likely, she heard and felt her presence, but it was so insignificant she didn’t even bother to react; such is the way of Adepti in Liyue, always aware but barely answering to any impulse and Shenhe, although not illuminated in that way, sure had a certain luminescences about her that was hard to find.
“What are you doing so late into the night, O Divine Damsel?” It should have come out as her usual smooth and carefully crafted easy tone, but be it because of the disastrous night or because simply existing was becoming too much, it came out as an ugly noise ripping through the night.
Shenhe stopped pretending to have issues with her slip-on shoes.
Whenever Shenhe moved, it felt like a divine deal; not quite to the level of an Archon nor one of an Adeptus… simply something to be sung the praises of, a great deal of beyond human prowess in one of the most gorgeous bodies anyone has ever laid their eyes upon. No matter what easy task, the disciple of the Adepti looked other worldly: muscles moving clearly under her scarred skin, every single movement, no matter how ordinary, highlighting that strength of hers – Yelan has heard it all : defeating Geovishaps with ease, Lawachurls with all of their camps moving away because of her sole presence, creatures of the Abyss leaving as that one gorgeous Adeptus came along; the problem, if it could even be called as such, was that Yelan, in all her disbelief about anything , could take as true all of those information, even if just folktales, even if narrated from the least trustworthy mouths.--, the lack of expressions of any kind, her flat tone, the way she looked so disinterested of everything surrounding her, her body – men and women alike all sighed whenever Shenhe passed. The tight clothing, always in black, full leather, the ropes – it was a meal for the eyes everytime.
For Yelan, she looked as inviting even now, with a shirt bought from the male section definitely a couple of sizes two large and soft pants that were probably from the same shopping bin, her hair a bit messy but never tied back tightly and that gorgeous yet a bit too tiny comb keeping her bangs from her eyes just at night. Nothing made sense about this woman and Yelan adored her for it.
“I was about to search for you.” Shenhe's voice, as steady as her willpower, cut easily through both the quietness of the night and whatever train of thought Yelan was getting lost into – that was happening way too many times that night. “I believed you got too endorsed in your activities and lost track of time, so I decided to pick you up from wherever you might be.”
“Dressed like this?” Was the immediate response. Yes, Yelan cared for Shenhe, but it seemed the disciple did
not
care about her outfits.
Shenhe merely blinked.
“It is 2 AM on a Tuesday, Yelan. I’m dressed more appropriately for the situation than you are.”
She spoke in a tone that, were for it anyone else, would have implied superiority, authority, a better-than-thou sort of behavior that meant only a sour mood or a more
physical
approach to the situation, but Shenhe just looked at her with the emptiest eyes and the most monotone expression she could probably muster.
Yelan giggled.
“Yeah, you are.” And she left it at that; still laughing, she entered their abode and started peeling that damned coat from her skin, as if it personally offended her. Shenhe started her usual protocol: staring at the back of her head, her opal eyes burning holes in her nape just for her to tilt her head to the side, a simple gesture that often meant confusion but, with Shenhe’s lack of microexpression, just looked cute .
“There’s some dinner on the table.”
“Take out?”
“As per usual.” Her voice morphed into annoyance. Oh, she was learning how to be exasperated. Even cuter .
With the first smile of the day – or last, depending on how you wanted to see, – Yelan sat down to eat, lifting her chopsticks, ready to dig into some Matsutake Meat Rolls and some white rice–
Then Shenhe snatched those from under her nose.
“It’s cold.” She said, matter of factly, looking physically down at her but never looking down at her – it probably didn’t make sense – “Let me heat it up.” And that was it: in a swift move, Shenhe lit up a shy fire to heat up some of the meat rolls, probably already understanding how poorly Yelan was doing, her back turned towards her, not a worry in that complicated mind of hers.
It hits Yelan right there, in that moment, the amount of trust Shenhe has for her, the care, the selflessness of it all. Shenhe, who has a job exactly like hers, if not more grueling at times, stayed up until the darkest hours, went as far as to prepare herself to search through the harbor, bought take-out, and heated up her food…
That won’t do.
“I wasted a lot of money tonight.” Yelan said, staring at Shenhe, hoping to catch some movements, some faltering, some kind of change in her movements: nothing came.
“On what?” The sound of sizzling meat was soft, Shenhe sounded completely calm and relaxed. How infuriating.
“On nothing. I lost the money on a bet.” The reply came with some petulance: maybe, if she sounded proud about that, the other would get aggravated. Why would Yelan want that? She didn’t know. She just knew it would have hurt .
Their living situation was odd as it was… comforting, to a certain degree. Shenhe left for work before the Sun was even up, always leaving some steaming tea behind, and Yelan, before leaving for anything – be it a simple walk or weeks of work – would leave a note and some mora aside, even when Shenhe reminded her multiple times it wasn’t necessary.
Now, if you’d ask Yelan what was happening between them, she’d laugh and turn that question against you – why would you need to know? Curious about the disciple of the adepti? –, making you sound like a pervert for asking a quite innocuous question; in the dead of the night, with Shenhe sleeping so quiet Yelan had the nagging feeling to just shove a finger under her nose to feel her breathing, Yelan would ponder over that question in the same way.
Yelan was pretty sure this was – yet again – Ningguang’s influence in her every day life: so what, being basically a spy and having a bit of an infatuation with your boss was as normal as it got with the way her life was being carried, but that didn’t give the Tianquan of the Qixing the right to just control everything in her life.
Ningguang, removed all of her titles and mora, was the kindest soul Yelan has ever met: she turned down her flatteries with the attitude that someone in her position would, but it did sting when the same flowery words had a completely different outcome when said by the Captain of the Crux; Yelan even saw the kindest and softest of blushes on Ningguang’s features.
And if Yelan noticed Ningguang, if the way her expression fell when their eyes met was anything to go by, Ningguang noticed Yelan as well.
Since then, her job became less unbearing and more of a hobby, no one to impress but a job to make sure was done properly; Yelan did overwork herself to the bone, yes, but because who else could do it? It wasn’t done out of… care, not anymore.
So when Ningguang asked for her presence in her office – normal – and she entered the room, always coated in faux and genuine gold, warm tones and yellow undertones, cosy, if Yelan could say so, Shenhe’s cold presence did feel jarringly out of place.
“From now on, Shenhe lies as one of your responsibilities.” the Tianquan, not Ningguang, said with authority and without leaving any space for rebuttal. It felt like a punishment.
“Who knows, maybe it’ll benefit both of you.” Ningguang, not the Tianquan whispered then, with warmth and a certain care that made Yelan’s hands twitch into fists. It felt like an even worse punishment.
It’s been months since then: Yelan agreed to share her living space with Shenhe and the other has been, for a lack of better terms, an almost comforting figure in her life. She knew what Yelan needed almost instantly every time, she cleaned with such an efficiency, she loved food of any kind – maybe, just maybe, Yelan kept on cooking violently spicy foods just to see where Shenhe’s resistance would have buckled; needless to say, Yelan was the one coughing a lung and needing assistance, even with her love for edible pain and agony – and yes, her strength meant that Yelan had to spend a lot of coins to fix their – their. How long has Yelan’s space been theirs? – furniture, but Yelan always laughed to her tears whenever Shenhe would just stand there, looking lost and kind of guilty.
In a way, Ningguang was right: Shenhe was making life a bit better.
As if she deserved that.
“I’ll pick up an extra shift then,” Shenhe mumbled, her tone even, as usual, while putting a warm plate and a bowl of fluffy rice in front of Yelan, like nothing happened. “I’ve heard that new delivery spots have opened in Yilong Wharf, I could try–”
“It was half a million mora.” Yelan rudely interrupted her.
A simple beat of silence. Shenhe sat on the chair next to hers.
“That sounds… like a lot.”
“Of
course it is a
lot, Shenhe. Some people out there don’t see that amount in
years
and I just– I
lost
it all in a stupid bet!” Yelan’s voice raised a couple of octaves, her eyes never leaving Shenhe’s, even when she quickly got up from her seat, the chair following with an ugly noise that did
not
help her headache.
“Don’t you understand?” She went on, not because she had more to say but because Shenhe was just not reacting; not even a head tilt, a blink, the smallest move— nothing . “They made a joke out of me. I lost a bet because I was too trusting and— half a million , Shenhe, don’t you get it?”
The whole point of this was to make Shenhe aggravated: make her mad, upset, angry , make sure that they went to sleep in the worst of moods. So why was it that right in that moment only Yelan breathed like she ran a marathon and she probably looked a mess and she just knew that the headache she’ll get later would be a nasty thing and—
“I forgive you.”
A beat. And another one.
“I do not know what else to say. But it sounds like your biggest mistake was trusting someone and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” Shenhe got up as well, kinder in her movements, moving towards her and if Yelan were in herself right in that moment, she’d be afraid: after all, Shenhe had done the impossible, she fought against a monster for days before getting saved and, weren’t for those red ropes clinging to her body, just what would she do to her? Instead, her reaction to see Shenhe closing in was to just… give in. The window behind Shenhe, just above their cooking spot, showed the moon kindly peeking in their little squabble, a fight Yelan didn’t – and couldn’t – deal with, even with her masochistic ways, the light simply looked ethereal .
“I am so tired Shenhe.” Yelan’s weak rebuttal came; this never happened before, a change of plan where the outcome was not an ache, emotional or physical, far removed from her or hurting until a shameful walk to Bubu pharmacy. Yelan found herself gathered in strong arms that seemed to never want to let go, arms that would have never given up, arms strong enough to break her but even stronger enough to mend her together.
Her addiction to pain would have not found a happy ending in a single nameless night, but damn it , if with Shenhe’s warmth and her minty scent that sweet finale didn’t seem a bit more realistic.
Enough time passed: the meat rolls went cold again – much to Shenhe’s chagrin – , the moon seemed to want to take a peak in that warm embrace shared on a random Tuesday night, her eyelids got heavier and heavier. Shenhe spoke, a breath of wind through the leaves of a dove tree, and Yelan didn’t care: she knew she didn’t have to hyperfixate on every single word, gut out whatever subliminal clue left in the words said or unsaid, no need to analyze her tone, what word she stressed more or less, for she knew that this woman, this single oddity in what would be the even more unconventional life of Yelan was what made the most amount of sense.
Then Shenhe scooped her up in her arms like she weighed a couple of grapes.
That would have been where, usually, Yelan’s body would try to fight back, so vulnerable and, admittedly, so weak in front of a much stronger foe, but Shenhe was not such a thing and Yelan’s body felt like it could fall into pieces any moment now.
“Shenhe–!” And what was that? Why did she sound excited? Why did her traitor expression, usually stoic or playfully sly in that pretty way that made men and women fall for her flowery lies, was instead warm with embarrassment but with a smile and cadence to her voice that the coy, slither and invisible non-entity of the Ministry of Civil Affairs was flustered.
“I did tell you I was about to bring you to your room,” Shenhe had the
gall
to rebut, her hands gripping her thighs with no other implications, something she wasn’t used to: no touch came for free, everything must have its boundary or
price
, but she won’t explain that to her, not yet at least, “it’s late and sleep will help you gather enough energy for tomorrow.”
And that was all. Shenhe never left space to whine or to do anything to change her mind with, not that it would have mattered, for she carefully sat her on her beddings. A weak excuse almost crawled from her throat when Shenhe started undressing her to put more comfortable clothes – and she remembered an odd accident with fondness just now, of the first nights together, Shenhe shamelessly walking around without a worry and covering of any sorts in what used to be her lonely abode; Yelan couldn’t remember the last time she’s felt second hand embarrassment like that… not that the view was anything to scoff at, honestly. –, no judgment nor unwanted touches, just soft linens hugging her.
Suddenly, Yelan felt the exhaustion that lingered over her head for weeks .
With an undignified sound, she fell backwards on the bed, suddenly no more to the Teyvat, simply a tired woman finally collapsing. Distantly, Shenhe moved to remove her shoes and Yelan had never felt this taken care of. Even those ladies of the night who always promised a good time and a peaceful night couldn’t please her in the way a gorgeous woman cleaning the dirt from her heels was – and, surprisingly, it was nothing sexual.
Two heavy blinks later – were those seconds? Minutes? Only Morax knew –, Yelan opened her eyes to her cheek against an awfully soft pillow, deep blue satin slightly cold on her face, a blanket covering every part of her with care and the terrible sight of Shenhe leaving the room, her hand on the handle and her hair seemingly dragging all of the moonlight away with her.
“Wait,” Yelan spoke in the night, hearing her voice clearly for the first time in a long time, “Wait, Shenhe could you– Would you be inclined to just… For the night?”
And if Yelan was in Shenhe’s spot just then, she’d laugh: out of pity or fondness, whatever may be, but a little giggle would have been her first reaction. But Shenhe, kinder than Adepti and Archons and Angels and whatever high beings might exist out there, simply complied in silence, moving with the same ease the waves kindly caressed their dear harbor.
It came too easy, the gentleness, the hardly hidden eagerness from both of them, the way Shenhe made herself smaller instead of the other way around – and leave it to Yelan’s closed off heart to want to soak into that lovely warmth without sharing the same decency Shenhe had carefully and kindly given to her, be it that Yelan felt strong, dangerous arms lazily circling her broken off, tired, and bound to fail her body and instead of jealousy or fear she felt a sort of contentment that felt so far removed from her.
It was an unfortunate thing, what she felt for Shenhe.
It ran deeper than any sexual or simple aesthetical yearning, more fierce than whatever crush or infatuation she could harbor, bigger than admiration, safer than jealousy; it wasn’t the confusing wanting to be her or wanting her, the need to touch or be touched, smell and taste and smother and choke .
She violently loved Shenhe, to a degree that was dangerous, yes, but she’d rather end herself and whatever was left of her bloodline than ever be the reason of discomfort for her: what a delight.
If anyone knew how lethal the woman pliant under her touch was, they wouldn’t step in her general direction for all the mora in the world, forget the idea of taking advantage of her while tired and tipsy: perhaps she was overestimating, maybe she was simply biased, but if glares could break bones, Shenhe’s would snap spines with every blink. Strong muscles and tight skin, jagged scars and the slightest depression on her body where the ropes were too tight; in Yelan’s expensive, well hidden room, all of that was a simple woman, heavy on her, soft cheek on her sternum, limbs limp; if she really wanted to, killing the disciple of the Adepti would come ridiculously easy.
But that want wasn’t in her: with baggy clothes, satin blankets, the moonlight blooming the glaze lilies outside her room, Shenhe’s rib cage taking her heart hostage with hers, the need to kill – or be killed, admittedly — was nowhere to be found. Instead, the call to keep safe, keep close by, keep protected , unlike that on time, unlike when she failed, unlike the only time she shouldn’t have fell short —
Shenhe stirred in her hold. The movement felt almost jarring, unwelcomed, and so Yelan moved as well, almost in retaliation. Shenhe’s head moved up, her ear almost touching her clavicle, the light color of her hair almost blinded her with the moonlight.
Shenhe, emotionless after so much rage; Yelan, in search of danger after losing it all.
She smiled at their unlikeness. The kind and – yet again – unlike kiss she left on the crown of her beautiful crane’s head went unseen, unheard and unfelt. That could be a secret between the moon and her.
If losing half a million mora in one night would have brought more of this, then Yelan knew what to do that same weekend. Without realizing, she fell asleep tenderly with a slight smile on her lips, unwilling to give Shenhe some sort of freedom even in their sleep, dreaming of cranes, tea, friends – alive and not – and an odd glint to her finger.