Work Text:
🔸🖌️🔸
【始】
[beginning]
Before the passing of the demon god of dust, the demon god the Geo element, master of contracts might have been inspired to pick up a calligraphy brush not for transmitting orders, but to simply practice the art form. Guizhong was marvelous at controlling her wrist and allowing her will to direct the ink into the most beautiful shapes that held meaningㄧoften teasing him for his brashness when wielding a brushㄧ though it was all in good fun. It was a pastime that had little more meaning than delight to learn art.
The war that rocked the world and took her away, however, brought more meaning to the action. Battle reports needed to be kept and written orders were necessary for Morax to keep track of the occurrences and adapt accordingly. His neat and orderly xiaokai1 (which Guizhong had instructed him on) slowly became the simply readable xingshu2 style. Thanks to circumstance, his bow and spear remained in his hands more often than a calligraphy brush, as they could guarantee survival while brush and ink could not. Soft calluses that might have come from practicing the art were slowly but surely turned into hard calluses from gripping a weapon too tight in life or death situations.
However, with the Archon War winding down to its last few participants and the life force of the remaining demon gods being the most stubborn, there were a few moments for rest, for both the mortals within the army, or their commanding demon god.
Morax dipped the tip of his brush into the waiting red ink3 before making a couple more annotations on the battle reports that had been submitted to him by his generals. All in all, things seemed to be going well, and even Morax could feel the tension in his eyebrows relaxing as he maneuvered his wrist, finishing a few more strokes, the red ink standing out against the black and white on the page.
He picked up his next battle report.
The front flap read, [General Alatus reports]
Morax opened the report, scanning the dense content inside.
[We’ve held the enemy at bay and have defeated most of them in Minlin, though more seem to be coming. There is no need for reinforcements, only supplies. This subordinate would like to extend his greetings to Dijun and fellow adeptal brothers. Additionally, this subordinate would also like to state that Tongque deserves to be acknowledged for his exemplary skill; he has been very essential to our operations and pens this for me right now.
May my god be victorious on the battlefield.
Xiao]
Through the words on the page, Morax could imagine the small tent pitched in the wilderness, hidden between the cliffs and surrounded by the yellow stalks of grass in the plains of Southern Teyvat, lit with only a few candles. Xiao was an avid pacer, carefully choosing words for Tongque to inscribe on the report.
Xiao would be reporting the numbers and status with absolute proficiency, though with pauses in between for Tongque to finish his last instructions between proceeding.
Morax allowed himself an internal smile as he picked up his own brush again, marking the report as read, satisfactory, with an annotation to send an order to Xiao’s battalion to return to Liyue Harbor in order to better care for the wounded.
And maybe… Another thought crept into Morax’s mind. Xiao had been out on the battlefield since nearly the first day he swore under Morax’s banner. It would be good for him to learn how to read and write, like the other adepti.
*
“Xiao,” The deep timbre of his god reached Xiao’s ears as he sank into the proper greeting stance. “Would you like to learn to read and write?”
“This subordinate isn’t…” Xiao stopped himself in the middle of the sentence, trying to adhere to his part of the contract regarding respecting himself. “If Rex Lapis… so desires me to.”
“I do, Xiao,” Morax said. “There is much that I believe you can learn. Fighting is a part of peace, yes, but now that we have claimed our victory, there is more that you can do to help maintain the peace in Liyue.”
Morax wanted the yaksha in front of him to live a good life, a free life in Liyue’s peaceful domain after the war. Why, exactly? Perhaps… it was due to his pity. He had not seen many sights as gruesome as the dream master’s ballroom, where the yaksha had been forced to trudge in bloody sludge so revolting, even to a demon god who knew the terrors of battle. Or, perhaps… it was due to yaksha’s beauty and resilience, and Morax always had a soft spot for beautiful and resilient people or items, as they were much like the stone that resonated with his power.
“I can still fight demons and evil with my yaksha brethren,” Xiao pointed out. “But if… I am more useful to you, to Liyue…”
“Xiao, do not think about this in terms of how useful it will make you. I don’t care about what use it will be, I simply want to instruct you and I am asking if you would like to learn.”
“... Yes… I would like to.”
“Excellent.”
🔸🖌️🔸
【自我-魈】
[Sense of self-Xiao] 4 5
Morax did not expect Xiao to be able to grip a brush pen so immaculately on the first try.
When he asked, the younger replied: “I did observe Tongque sometimes when I asked him to transcribe battle reports and whatnot.”
There’s a lot that people say about General Jinpeng’s ferocity on the battlefield, but if Morax had to list one aspect that a lot of people within the armies overlooked, it would be Xiao’s ability to learn based on what he saw. If he saw someone performing a spear move, he could demonstrate a better move within a few hours.
So, although Morax did not initially expect Xiao to be able to grip the brush correctly, these emotions quickly settled down.
“Alright, then, since you have the pen grip down, then we should be able to start with a few basic strokes.”
Morax lays out two pieces of paper on the table and grabs his own brush to dip it in red ink, catching a glimpse of Xiao doing the same before he steadies his wrist and brings the brush in contact with the paper.
“This is the horizontal stroke. You want to let the tip of your brush first touch the paper at an angle directly opposite of where the stroke goes, and then slowly maneuver your wrist to turn the direction of the brush tip and follow through.”
He feels Xiao’s eyes following his wrist as he demonstrates what he says, brush slowly running along the smooth paper.
“At the end, pause, and try to lift in the direction you came from,” He explains as he lifts his own wrist in a flourish.
Xiao nods as Morax watches him turn back to his paper, brows furrowing in concentration as he tries to replicate the movements.
The result is a shaky line, and Morax can see the downturn of the corner of Xiao’s lips as he lifts his brush and assesses the differences.
“No worries,” Morax is quick to encourage, “It does take time.”
Morax is no less than impressed when Xiao not only masters the horizontal stroke, but the vertical, slanting, and dotting strokes within the span of a few tries. But, when the warrior writes, Morax enjoys looking at Xiao himself more than at the exact things he’s writing. Maybe it’s because there’s something in the tension of his shoulders, or the way his lips part just enough for him to bite when he needs to concentrate even more, allowing his wrist flow to do the work of writing the stroke.
Most importantly, there’s Xiao’s eyes when he fixes on the paper, gold eyes fierce as if sizing up an enemy. Yet, in those eyes, Morax nearly loses himself, because there’s persistence much like the way that he likes to see the world, his warriors, and humans exhibit.
By the time Morax praises Xiao for the umpteenth time in the span of an afternoon, he is confident that he can teach Xiao more.
“Last subject of today,” He says, picking up his own brush again, still laden with red ink, “I wish for you to understand the meaning of this phrase, Xiao. 【自我】means sense of self.”
Morax lifts his wrist, leaving the phrase written neatly in the center of his paper.
“I wish that all of my warriors, no matter who they are, still retain their 【自我】on and off the battlefield. You are Xiao. Not the dream goddess’ lapdog, nor my weapon. You are General Jinpeng of my army, yes, but Xiao before anything else.”
He pauses as Xiao looks at him, gold eyes fixed on him, though nearly emotionless. If there’s something that Morax can discern, there’s simply a touch of bewilderment.
“I don’t need you to understand immediately, Xiao,” Morax says, exhaling. “Just remember. You can do things for yourself.”
“...” Xiao does not say anything immediately, and instead goes still for many seconds before Morax decides it’s time to let him go. “You have done well, Xiao. Go, rest.”
“Dijun!” Xiao hurriedly calls out. “Can… can this subordinate ask one more thing of Dijun?”
Morax sighs through his nose, though he makes sure that Xiao cannot hear. Those titles refer to their power difference, again…
“What is it?” Morax asks, gently.
“Can this subordinate please learn how to… write his own name?”
Morax blinks. He had forgotten… It must have been due to too many nights dealing with the new sea creature issue within the harbor.
“Of course.” Morax scrawls out the character 【魈】 just beneath the phrase 【自我】in the center of the page.
Xiao drops to his knees as soon as he sees the character. “Thank you, Dijun.”
“No need for formalities, Xiao,” Morax beckons him up. “No, formalities are necessary,” Xiao insists, still kneeling. “It is only because of Dijun that… I have a name.”
Morax’s heart skips a beat because for some reason, he suddenly thinks that he’s tied this adeptus too close to him. Name, work… All too close.
Not wanting to think about that anymore, Morax turns his back and says, “Xiao, go rest, that is enough.”
Xiao does.
After Xiao leaves Morax’s study, Morax gazes for a long time at Xiao’s practice paper, and then folds it up and slides it into a drawer. It is a start.
🔸🖌️🔸
【忠义】
[Righteous Loyalty] 6
The next time Morax calls Xiao into his study, it has been another month since they had last seen each other, courtesy of continued rebellions and the ever more dangerous war situation. The Archon War was in its final stages, but all the more dangerous than before as all of those who survived had significant abilities.
This time, as Morax hands Xiao his paper, his gaze drifts to the gauze on Xiao’s face. Although he had inquired about it, Xiao had just said that it was an injury, and that he had to report something.
“Could it wait until later, Xiao?” Morax asks, “I would like you to calm down during these few moments we have together and do some calligraphy peacefully with me.”
“...Dijun, it is of the utmost importance that I report this, as it regards our survival.”
Morax drops his gaze to Xiao’s left hand, just visible under the ledge of the table, which is shaking.
“Then do so swiftly,” Morax tells Xiao, placing his brush pen back into its holder.
“Yes, Dijun.” Xiao drops to one knee. “There was a mutiny within my corps of Millelith and Adepti Mixed Unit. We apprehended the troublemakers… and I would like to know how Dijun thinks they should be punished.”
“Well…” Morax purses his lips briefly before sauntering back to his work chair and sitting down, back straight and looking down at Xiao, “How would you like them to be punished?”
“They were caught before any damage was done, so by that only they should only be banished from the army… but based on their wavering loyalty, I think that there is a reason for execution,” Xiao replies hesitantly. “What if they bring bigger destruction, or involve innocents next time?”
“Hmm, interesting,” Morax murmurs as a mini form of the Memory of Dust lock appears within his hands, his fingers barely caressing it. Xiao has seen his lord do this often, though, so he doesn’t question it even if the silence stretches out.
“What is the highest rank of the participants?”
“Troop Leader, my lord.”
“How many?”
“Only one,” Xiao replies.
“Kill him in front of the others, and set the rest free,” Morax intones, as solid as rock, as the Memory of Dust disappears. Xiao lowers his head, eyebrows locked together, though he does not say anything. Morax can hear the thoughts racing at many li 7 per hour.
“Speak your thoughts, General Jinpeng.”
“This subordin-... Xiao does not have an issue with Dijun’s order,” Xiao stammers, though he says, more strongly, “But… Dijun spares a lot of people with this, and what if they cause more trouble or losses? It’s evident that they have no loyalty or righteousness engraved within their hearts as citizens of Liyue, and it’s dangerous to have them around.”
Morax raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were against killing the harmless, Xiao?”
“They are not harmless or innocent!” Xiao’s voice shakes as he nearly lowers his head to the floorboards in a kowtow rite. “This subordinate has seen mutinying soldiers slaughter real village people. They… they could too. They have no loyalty or righteousness in their hearts, to Liyue or to Dijun.”
Suddenly, Morax laughs, though it is directed at himself rather than Xiao. What had he done to inspire such fierce loyalty, to himself or to Liyue? He’s failed quite completely in the department of showing Xiao there are other things in life other than shedding blood for a demon god. That deserves a degrading laugh at himself. Morax wants Xiao to understand that there are much better things he could be worrying about. If Xiao understood the meaning of his own name through writing, he should repeat this.
So, he asks, "What do you know about loyalty and devotion, Xiao? You cannot write it.” He walks over to where Xiao is and pulls him gently by the right wrist, until Xiao is standing.
“Di…dijun?” The younger adeptus shies away from direct eye contact.
“Let’s learn how to write the loyalty and righteousness you speak of before you talk about it,” Morax says softly, though Xiao can’t discern if there is gentleness or veiled annoyance in his lord’s voice.
Xiao allows himself to be led to the desk, where Morax picks up one brush pen for Xiao to hold in his right hand.
Originally expecting his lord to release his wrist then, Xiao does not expect Morax to grip the pen directly above him, his lord’s chest pressed to Xiao’s back, head looking over Xiao’s left shoulder.
“Let me teach you,” Morax says slowly, and with a flick of his wrist, ink is on the paper, making a short vertical stroke.
Xiao can feel the blood rushing in his ears, and if Dijun explains anything else, he can’t hear it. He can only will his wrist to not be deadweight on the pen as his god writes the phrase 【忠义】on the pristine white paper.
“Alright,” Morax releases the pen and removes himself from Xiao’s immediate presence. “Write it a couple of times, Xiao, and then tell me what it means to you.”
Xiao does so, numb, whilst still taking painstaking care in placing every stroke, until his neck is tired from looking down and he’s still only written the phrase two times.
He looks at Morax, his lord, standing near the window of his study, looking away from him, unaware.
Though, in reality, Morax has his back turned against him precisely because he needs to reevaluate who Xiao means to him. Xiao used to be just someone that he had saved, due to pity and it being the “right thing to do.” And then, step by step, he had gotten stronger to fight for Morax… And now, he’s shown such devotion and loyalty…
What type of cruel god would Morax be if he didn’t say that he was deeply moved by Xiao’s doings and sayings? But he wishes that Xiao could go easier on himself. That loyalty and righteousness didn’t mean giving Morax his whole existence, but simply good work and good rest.
“Loyalty and righteousness…” Xiao murmurs to himself, placing the brush softly back on its rack. It’s… everything to him.
“So, what is it?” Morax turns his back and his amber eyes stare into Xiao’s soul.
“It’s… it’s…” Xiao finds the words hard to say.
“It’s…the only thing that I have,” Xiao lowers his gaze. “It’s the only thing I can… give Dijun.”
A pause, as the wind whistles through the windows. “I will carry out Dijun’s orders.”
With that, Xiao bolts from the study.
Morax is left standing there, staring at the two neat columns of 【忠义】 that Xiao wrote, lips slightly parted, as if he wants to say something.
Only after a minute does he come back to his senses.
“Xiao…” Morax shakes his head and chuckles, a sweet feeling permeating through him.
Looking back, it might have been the first hints of what Zhongli would later call how Xiao, the prettiest flower, wormed his way into his cracks and let love bloom on such a desolate rock.
🔸🖌️🔸
【保护】
[To Protect] 8
Xiao avoids him until the Archon War ends, after he is crowned the Sovereign Archon of Liyue, Rex Lapis.
As Liyue focuses on formality rites as a culture, all subjects were present for Morax’s crowning ceremony, held in the Harbor.
Xiao is there with the other four Yaksha generals, at the front of the line, leading the procession as the subjects all bow to their new sovereign.
Morax made sure to catch Xiao’s eye, holding contact for as long as Archonly possible until he had to break, to finish the crowning ceremony.
“Dijun, General Jinpeng requests an audience.”
Ganyu places a small teapot of Nichang tea on Morax’s desk while reporting.
“Please invite him in, Ganyu. And you may rest after doing so,” Morax says, looking at domestic reports, most related to mining.
“Yes, Dijun.”
Xiao immediately sinks into a warrior’s rite when he enters the hall.
“This subordinate extends greetings-”
“Xiao,” Morax interrupts. “You know I dislike formal rites.”
Xiao does not reply.
“Please rise,” Morax says, through nearly gritted teeth, though he makes sure to not let his tone change. He pinches the bridge of his nose, massaging. “You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”
“Please issue a punishment,” Xiao immediately bows.
Morax gazes upon the younger adeptus and finds that particular move amusing. “So now you know to fear?”
When Xiao doesn’t reply, Morax tries something else. “No matter. I want to see your calligraphy, Xiao. Your reports seem to be getting more and more fluid, so I want you to demonstrate.”
“Yes, my lord.” Xiao heads to the desk, where there is already a spare piece of paper with a couple columns of text.
“Please reference that style,” Morax raises his chin at it.
“This is…?”
“Guizhong’s handwriting, one of my favorite pieces of hers.”
Xiao nods, picking up a brush and copying the words.
“Want to know why this is one of my favorites of hers, Xiao?”
The green curls on the top of his head bob with his head shaking.
“Because while this piece is short, it holds her immense love for Liyue and its people. She writes about protecting the glaze lilies and the generation of people living in Liyue… can you understand? When she writes the phrase 【保护】, she truly does mean protect to her dying moments.”
As Xiao moved to copy the phrase 【保护】, Morax couldn’t help but ask, “So, what are the things you want to protect, Xiao?”
“Liyue… Innocents… Fanan, Yingda, Minu, Fushe…” Xiao replies intermittently, copying the phrase down again and again, something always giving him trouble. An unruly stroke there, a splotch of ink there.
“And…?”
“And…” Xiao breaks into the slightest of smiles as he gazes at his newest attempt; this one looks eerily similar to Guizhong’s handwriting. When Morax moves his gaze away, he crashes into Xiao’s waiting eyes.
Eyes that gave all the answers.
“And many more things,” Xiao quickly wrenches his gaze away. “Thank you, Dijun, for instructing me. This subordinate will now take leave, having used up too much of Dijun’s time today.”
With a hasty bow, Xiao leaves the study.
Morax, once again, folds the paper with Xiao’s writing neatly, and adds it to a growing pile.
When he returns to reading reports, it is with renewed vigor.
Because, Morax thinks, he needs to protect a certain someone who seems to think that he needs protecting. The audacious little bird.
🔸🖌️🔸
【红尘】
[the mortal realm] 9
Morax raises his arms against the wind, shielding him from the worst of a gust of wind blowing the red earth all around the Chasm.
It has been a long trek from Khaenri’ah.
He remembers the day, a few before he left, when he taught his Xiao the word 【红尘】
Upon seeing that phrase, his Xiao immediately asked, “Errr… Red dust?”
Morax had let out a hearty chuckle before he explained how it was a metaphor regarding the mortal realm. It originated from a time where people across the desert in Sumeru had such a vast desert that their cities were filled with red sand, brought in by the billowing sandstorms or the camel caravans trekking it in. Thus, a lively city had many traces of red dust, and slowly became a metaphor for the human realm in general.
“That’s… interesting.”
“Certainly.”
The memory spurred Morax on, one tired footstep after another, so that he could see the person that made him want to stay in this 【红尘】sooner.
Xiao… What would you do, if you knew that you are one of the things anchoring me to this 【红尘】?
Later, Morax vowed.
One day, I will truly walk into 【红尘】, the mortal realm, as a mortal, and express what I feel for him, my Xiao, my General Jinpeng.
🔸🖌️🔸
【牵挂】
[beloved, my anchorage] 10
Morax had thoughts about leaving his post as Liyue’s Archon perhaps 500 years before the Khaenri’an disaster. He’d seen Liyue through so much, after all. Still, some of his worries ultimately resulted in him keeping power for around another millenia. Firstly, there was the issue of his successor. Liyue, first and foremost, being a city built on his shoulders and by the effort of his people, should get the chance to continue. How, though, was the question that Morax simply could not answer.
There was still an ungodly amount of work that he had to deal with everyday, and he doubted humans could do so. There was also the issue of the remaining evils in Liyue, born from the slain gods, and they seemed to act up from time to time, requiring the Yakshas to diligently clear them up such that no humans would be harmed.
And there was the issue of his Xiao.
Xiao’s karmic debt was perhaps the most severe of the yakshas… And it was only when Morax pulled his ‘Archon’ card that he could occasionally force Xiao to rest. While he was sure that Xiao wouldn’t stop listening to his orders no matter if he was an Archon or not, it was convenient…
So, for that irrational reason, Morax kept his Gnosis for a while longer, until around 500 years after the Khaenri’ah incident.
When he realized that Liyue was capable of carrying on its daily functions, Morax’s worries of Liyue and its people were put to rest. So, given the opportunity, he readily gave up his Gnosis to become Zhongli.
Zhongli still had one【牵挂】remaining, though.
The adeptus that frequently appeared at Dihua Marsh to save mortals, upholding his contract.
His Xiao.
*
Ever since Zhongli had come back from Khaenri’ah and Xiao had become the last remaining yaksha, their dynamic had changed.
More like, they needed each other more than ever.
So, on long nights, Xiao would sometimes accompany Zhongli while drinking, though Zhongli could never get him to stay for long.
It was during those few times that Zhongli felt Xiao’s change in attitude towards him.
There was more of a carefulness, more of a repressed air around Xiao.
Zhongli took it to mean that Xiao might harbor feelings, but with his Archon identity, he couldn’t do much.
Finally, finally, in this mortal skin, Zhongli can do what mortals do for the one they 【牵挂】.
*
When Zhongli hears that Xiao has been injured, he nearly knocks over his teacup.
He had asked Ms. Verr Goldet at Wangshu Inn to notify him whenever the guest who lived in the private room at the top of the Inn had any type of special condition thinking that it would just simply be a precaution.
He trusts Xiao to be able to take care of himself when he is battling, as he has done for the past 500 years, where he has nearly not had a single incident.
Zhongli immediately sets out of Wangshu Inn, practically barging into Xiao’s room on the top floor, whereupon opening the door, he is greeted by an ashen-white Xiao curled up on the bed.
After steadying himself against the doorknob briefly, Zhongli steps in to inspect the damage.
The cuts on his arm seem relatively healed, but Xiao himself simply does not see lucid.
After not being able to find the source of the issue by summoning his earthly powers, Zhongli sits on the ground next to Xiao’s bed and resolves to wait until Xiao wakes up.
“Di-dijun?” Just as Zhongli makes himself comfortable, Xiao’s raspy voice echoes throughout the room.
“Yes?”
“Dijun… you don’t… You don’t want me anymore?” Xiao goes silent again, falling back into unconsciousness.
No.
I want you with all my heart.
*
The next cycle of day comes before Xiao can wake up, and because Zhongli, alas, is a mortal with responsibilities now, he has to leave the Inn.
However, before he does, he borrows a piece of paper and a brush pen from Verr Goldet, and leaves a note-
[Xiao,
You are my one and only 【牵挂】
Now that I recall our calligraphy sessions, it might have slipped by mind to teach you about this phrase. It simply means that I care for you, and worry for you. I wish you could be by my side, no matter what form. Could you please consider that, and take care of yourself? Call my name if you wish to talk.
Zhongli]
Xiao does call him that evening. Zhongli immediately moves his existence to Wangshu Inn after he hears it.
“Dijun… No, Zhongli-daren,” Xiao corrects himself immediately upon seeing him. “You… are… still here.”
“...Yes, I am still here, Xiao,” Zhongli replies. “I couldn’t possibly… leave you when you mean so much to me.”
“Do… Do I?” Xiao’s bottom lip is trembling. “This is not a dream that’s going to turn into a nightmare and leave me alone when I wake up?”
“No, this is not a dream. You mean everything to me, Xiao. You are my only 【牵挂】, my anchorage to Teyvat.”
Silence.
Then, Xiao brings a hand up to his cheek and pinches, hard, while he says, “...Zhongli-daren… This subordinate… Xiao would like to say that he understands that word. I… also 【牵挂】Zhongli-daren.”
Zhongli is quick to grab Xiao’s wrist and pulls his pinching hand away, then lays a hand on Xiao’s cheek and rubs the reddening patch.
Xiao, in turn, slowly snakes his arms around Zhongli’s waist and closes the space between them.
“Xiao,” Zhongli chides, “It’s not a dream. And I don’t want to see my 【牵挂】hurting themselves again.”
In turn, Xiao stands on tiptoe and presses his lips to Zhongli’s lips.
“I know now. I’m sorry, but will you forgive me?”
Zhongli can’t say no.