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Zhongli paused at the top of the hill leading into Liyue. The sun was approaching the horizon, and it kissed the corners of the buildings with a golden light. He thought about all the years he’d spent loving and caring for this land, and how it had changed, but also remained the same.
Much like himself. Zhongli looked at a statue with a familiar countenance and gave it a small, wry smile as he walked by. The fondness he felt for Liyue, and his gratitude at being able to remain here, had never abated.
His new wound throbbed, interrupting his thoughts, and the sensation made Zhongli catch his breath. He remembered that the two traders he’d rescued from bandits had recommended he see a doctor, and even given him directions to Bubu Pharmacy for their trusted caregiver.
Zhongli had heard of the pharmacy, of course. Little in Liyue escaped his notice over the years. But he’d never had occasion to need medical care before. He stopped, breathing heavily after climbing the hill while injured. He pressed a hand to his side, hissing as the pressure caused more pain. This human form was so different. He could still fight—formidably, he thought to himself, preening a little over his recent victory.
And it wasn’t as though he had been impossible to injure in his godly form. But this body needed….well. Help.
And if there was one thing Zhongli had become completely unused to over the past few hundred years, it was asking for help. He trudged down the path, letting his breath gust out unsteadily, as the path finally wound its way downhill.
The concept of leaning on someone else the way he currently leaned on the staff of his polearm; it was uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as the sting of hurt flesh, but Zhongli disliked it all the same.
It put him in mind of Guizhong, and Azhdaha, and too many others. He was better alone, Zhongli thought, and closed the door of his past just as he stepped over the threshhold of the pharmacy.
A charming small child was there at the desk, and she slowly tilted her head to the side.
“Can I help you?” Her voice was slow and ponderous, but her earnest manner made a pained smile flicker across Zhongli’s face.
“I would like to—I believe I need to see the doctor, if it’s not too much trouble.” Zhongli made a small bow, but a jolt of pain caught him off balance, and he clutched his polearm again, lurching to the side before he fell. The sudden movement sent pain spiraling out in a shock, and he grunted in a rather uncouth but all too human manner.
“Ugh—my apologies.” He was as breathless as when he’d been climbing the hill, and his human heart felt like it was trying to pound out of his chest.
The little receptionist clattered out from behind her desk, and Zhongli felt a cloud of adeptal energy surround them as she came close. How curious.
Her expression revealed nothing, however. She simply patted his arm, her expression still solemn and almost blank, and gestured at a chair.
“Please, sit down. Doctor Baizhu will see you as soon as possible.”
When Qiqi told him there was an injured man waiting, Baizhu hurried through the routine medications he was prescribing. He pressed a slip of paper with instructions for Herbalist Gui into Madame Shen’s hand and patted it, encouraging her. Hopefully, her pain would improve. He sent a small amount of healing with the touch, Changsheng hissing a knowing tone into his ear.
As Madame Shen left, Changsheng whispered, “You’re at your limits; I can tell. Better see everyone else tomorrow.” Her sibilant tones hissed against his ear.
“Nonsense, Changsheng,” he murmured. “It sounds like there is someone who can’t wait. I’ll be fine.” He coughed lightly, making sure to be out of hearing of the patient rooms.
When Baizhu stepped through the door into the next patient’s room, he was greeted with a swirl of sensations. There was a faint glow in the room; a haze of gold and the smell of mountains after rain. Baizhu recognized Geo, and felt his fatigue recede as it took second place to curiosity, tinged with a little bit of wonder.
His patient was sitting obediently on the low wooden bench intended for treatment, but he was curled forward around an obvious injury. His hand was pressed to his ribs and he had an oddly sheepish expression, as though he’d spilled a drink, not gotten what appeared to be a wound of moderate concern.
Baizhu approached in his usual businesslike but gentle manner. “I can see that you’re hurt. Would you be comfortable removing your garments, so I may examine you?”
The man nodded, and started to pull his tailored coat off—particularly fine fabric and tailoring, Baizhu noticed—but winced in pain. Baizhu approached, still professional, but with a hand out. “May I help you?”
“Please.”
He removed his gloves and set them next to him, but allowed Baizhu to pull gently at his sleeve to loosen his jacket. It was a simple matter to slide the arms off, and then Baizhu let him unfasten his waistcoat’s buttons before helping him out of it.
“Oh dear.”
The man was loosening his tie and seemed surprised at Baizhu’s concern. His eyes followed Baizhu’s down to the blood staining his dress shirt.
“Ah. My apologies.”
He wasn’t the first one of Baizhu’s patients to apologize for needing help. He helped the man out of the rest of his clothes and leaned in to examine the wound. It was a long slash, but fortunately not too deep. Baizhu fetched clean water, a little jar of disinfectant salve, and towels from the cabinet nearby.
“I should be the one to apologize; this will likely sting.” He softly blotted the blood away and looked studiously at the wound. No stitches, but definitely a dressing for several days, changed at regular intervals.
“You’re lucky this wasn’t deeper, Mr…I don’t believe Qiqi told me your name, sir.”
He looked about to say something else, but then the man just smiled tiredly and said, “Zhongli.”
Baizhu nodded. “Zhongli, I’d like to examine you for any further injury. Would you lie down for me, please?”
With a groan that sounded much older than he looked, Zhongli complied. Baizhu pressed gently on his abdomen, checking for damage to his internal organs. Zhongli was stoic, and Baizhu breathed a sigh of relief.
He moved his hands around to Zhongli’s ribs, smoothing over the skin and avoiding the wound. At one touch, Zhongli jolted and let out a surprised sigh.
“You have some cracked ribs as well,” Baizhu murmured. “Unfortunate; they can be quite painful. I’ll ask our herbalist to mix you up some pain medication with the rest.”
Zhongli just nodded up at him, and Baizhu noticed that Zhongli had been examining him very carefully in return, with bright topaz-gold eyes.
Baizhu helped Zhongli sit up. He applied a bandage to close the wound and hopefully support his ribs as they healed. Zhongli was quiet and observant as Baizhu bandaged him, and nodded gratefully when he was finished.
Baizhu was thankful he did not need to call upon anything beyond ordinary healing for Zhongli, though he would have. He was spent from the day, but this Geo-swirled fighter with the impeccable wardrobe and pretty manners intrigued him.
He recited instructions for how Zhongli was to care for himself, with an admonition to return if things got any worse. He also wrote the instructions down; Baizhu had learned from experience that people who were sick or hurt often had a difficult time remembering precise instructions.
Zhongli rubbed his thumb over the writing on the paper. He looked at it thoughtfully, then up at Baizhu.
He said something, but Baizhu’s mind was too busy registering the beautiful appearance of Zhongli’s limbs. Now that he’d stepped back from his immediate treatment needs, it was apparent—Zhongli was striking. His hands were a deep brown, with gold markings running from his hands up his forearms. His arms grew progressively darker, until his shoulders, at which point his skin faded into the pale tone that matched his face.
Beautiful.
The thought slipped into Baizhu's mind unbidden, and it made a light flush heat his cheeks. He tried to avert his gaze, as such thoughts were deeply unprofessional. Taking advantage of a patient’s need to be vulnerable! Shameful.
Baizhu cleared his throat to collect himself.
“I see that you prescribe gentle walks as a part of healing.”
“Yes, after the first few days.” Baizhu nodded, still flustered, and tucked a few stray strands of hair back into its knot behind his head. It wasn’t fair for him to have such a rich, resonant voice as well.
“I do enjoy a walk. Thank you for such a rewarding instruction. I did not expect medicine to include small pleasures.” He smiled down at his paper, seeming charmed, and Baizhu found himself wondering if Zhongli had ever been to a doctor before in his life.
Baizhu recovered from his momentary silliness, and met Zhongli’s gaze.
“Yes. I find that enhancing well-being involves treatment for the soul, as well.” He smiled.
Zhongli nodded, thoughtfully, and moved to pull his shirt back on. Admonishing himself for his earlier weakness, Baizhu helped him with a strictly professional air, assisting him in draping his coat over his shoulders so he would not have to stretch his muscles over his ribs.
Zhongli nodded in gratitude, and despite being a little hunched over his wound, he looked relieved already.
Baizhu wished him well and watched him wander back out to the counter for his prescriptions. At a question from Herbalist Gui, Zhongli looked confused, but then Baizhu saw Gui write out a bill. Of course; plenty of people forgot their money in an emergency. Baizhu had no concerns about Zhongli’s ability to pay. Not with those fine clothes.
With a wave to Gui and Qiqi, Baizhu retired to his private quarters behind the pharmacy, humming softly to himself. He was still tired, but oddly invigorated by his interactions with that final patient. Zhongli. He rolled the name over in his mind.
He really had been striking, and with a weighty patience to him that Baizhu couldn’t stop pondering.
As he laid his glasses on his bedside table that night before sleeping, Changsheng gave him a knowing glance before tucking her nose into her coils for the night.
“Hush,” he said, fondly exasperated.
Zhongli was surprised when his feet led him along the path toward the pharmacy again. It was within the proper distance for one of his prescribed walks, but he’d found himself in the doorway again, almost without meaning to.
Qiqi tilted her head at him again, but this time in recognition. Silently, she trotted away, and Zhongli felt oddly fond, despite only meeting her the once.
Baizhu emerged, bustling, but stopped to smile at him. “Don’t you look well! There’s no need to return here to pay; Hu Tao took care of everything most generously.”
“Ah.” Zhongli stalled for time—he had not, actually, come here with any thought of payment, nor had it crossed his mind even once after his first visit. Hu Tao was better with those sorts of things, at any rate. Zhongli made a mental note to be more compliant the next time she had an errand for him. “That’s good. Of course.”
A tiny smile teased at Baizhu’s lips, and Zhongli felt for a moment as though his thoughts were too obvious. Zhongli shook his head and extended his hand.
“It’s very good to see you again, in any case. I have been walking, as you recommended.” Did humans do that, the handshaking? Or was that only upon a first meeting? Zhongli really should pay more attention.
Well, no matter. Baizhu took his hand again, and Zhongli felt his own smile grow softer. Baizhu’s hands were soft, and quite warm. Zhongli found the handshake quite enjoyable, and in fact may have lingered over it a little too long.
“Has your pain been improving?”
Zhongli nodded, reluctantly letting go of Baizhu’s hand. “No difficulties at all, save for a little…impatience to be back to full strength.” He’d stopped taking the pain-relieving herbs a week or so in, finding the sensations in his body more interesting than unpleasant as time wore on.
Baizhu nodded. “Normal, especially for trained fighters. Still, take it easy until you are fully healed.”
Zhongli inclined his head. “Of course.” He lingered, a little awkwardly. There was no reason to stay, but he was somehow unwilling to go.
The sun, traveling down the sky, glinted off the polished wood of the furnishings.
Baizhu shot a quick look to his herbalist, whose name Zhongli couldn’t remember, and who was wrapping up a couple of paper packets.
He looked back at Zhongli brightly. The snake coiled around his neck blinked at him as well. There was something familiar about her, but Zhongli couldn’t quite place it.
And in any event, he was distracted by a gentle hand on his elbow.
“I am finished with my duties for today. May I walk you back?”
Now it was Zhongli’s turn to break into a wide smile. “I would be delighted.”
The walk felt shorter on the way back; their talk was easy and pleasant. Zhongli found himself wanting to know more and more about Baizhu. The more he talked, the more questions bubbled up in Zhongli’s chest to ask. He felt excited, and impatient, in a way he could not remember feeling in a very long time.
Baizhu turned at one side street, and Zhongli gently placed a hand on his arm to redirect him.
“It’s this way.”
“Oh—I just assumed.” He’d been heading toward the funeral parlor. “My apologies.”
“Not necessary.” Zhongli removed his hand, a little regretfully, and found himself imagining them walking arm in arm. Pleasant. He had not craved the companionship of another for decades. It surprised him.
He led the way to the quarters he kept, breathing in the bustle and life of Liyue Harbor as they went. As evening fell, the energy of the city was incomparable, and Zhongli’s chest warmed with his love for it. He picked up his memories of the city, and of its previous inhabitants, turned them over in his mind, watched them shine.
This, he knew, was the path away from erosion. To hold each memory, each emotion, with certain hands; to reflect on how they’d shaped him, as the slow forces of wind and water had shaped the stone of Liyue.
But to stay removed, so as not to lose himself in the maelstrom or the tide.
It was his turn to talk at length, and Baizhu’s to pepper him with questions. Though this was Baizhu’s home as well, Zhongli’s “historical” knowledge was much more detailed, and he regaled Baizhu with foibles and idiosyncrasies of Liyue’s historical figures that felt more like gossip than dry records.
The snake, too, had the occasional witticism—Changsheng, as Baizhu explained. When he said her name, again there was the distant ring of sounds forgotten, but Zhongli was unable to fully recall them.
He began to climb the several flights of stairs to his quarters, and Baizhu quickly fell behind. Zhongli measured his step to match, and when Baizhu seemed fully out of breath, he looked up at the sky and stopped on a landing.
"Up above us is the Obsidian Spear of Prithiva. It clashes with the Daggers of Agnidus, twin stars that chase it through the sky. If you look, night after night they will draw closer, until the midpoint of the year. Legend says then that their fight takes place, and they draw back until beginning to approach each other the following year.”
He moved behind Baizhu to point it out. Baizhu turned his head, and jade-green strands of hair brushed across Zhongli’s temple. He could feel the heat of Baizhu’s body, though they were not touching.
Zhongli wanted to hold his breath. His chest felt full, but also so delicate that it might break.
Baizhu sneezed.
Laughing, the moment broken, they headed up the final flight of stairs together. Once outside his door, Zhongli turned.
“Thank you for the escort, but mostly for the fine company. It has been very rewarding to get to know a little more about you, and share some of the esoterica of my own mind with you as well.”
“A pleasure.” The smile that warmed Baizhu’s words made them much more than a rote courtesy.
Zhongli turned the handle of his door, and paused. He did not want their conversation to end, and yet…
Part of him wanted to invite Baizhu in for tea, or wine, or whatever would make him talk with his eyes shining like when he’d looked up at the stars.
But it had been a very, very long time since anyone had seen his living place. Too long, perhaps. It made him pause, and the moment was broken.
“Have a lovely evening, Zhongli.” Baizhu’s voice was already floating up the stairs as he descended, the downward climb seemingly much easier for him than the trip up.
Zhongli turned back, smiled with only a little bit of regret, and opened his front door to the memories that awaited him.
Baizhu closed the examination room door behind him and sighed. Every case today had been difficult; every illness and injury stubborn and thorny. He felt raw and ragged, and something beyond weariness pulled his shoulders down.
Changsheng hissed from where she sat around his neck, and Baizhu held up one finger. “Simply do not. I don’t want to hear it.”
She sighed, and unwound herself, slithering off to one of her favorite warming spots, no doubt.
Baizhu turned down a hallway, away from patients and customers and Gui and even little Qiqi—his heart hurt, his body hurt, and he needed to be alone, if even for a short time.
A sharp pain stabbed at his chest, and a wet cough forced its way out against his will.
Thank the Archons it was the end of the day. He didn’t have the strength for even one more appointment today.
Baizhu sagged against the wall, thinking about the seriously ill little girl who’s hand he’d held, the man with the shattered leg, the family that had come to him too late to save their matriarch…the list went on and on. Today, he hadn’t been quite enough. Several of them had been healed, but not fully. Baizhu would have to see most of them again.
He knew he’d helped, but sometimes things felt so futile. And his body hurt. Baizhu had known what he was getting into with his contract, but he hadn’t felt it. It went right down to his bones today, and he leaned his heavy head back and let the tears that had been threatening for the last hour finally fall.
Lost in his own thoughts and emotions, Baizhu was startled by the clip of a dress shoe on the polished floor.
Zhongli. Of course; Baizhu had instructed Qiqi and Gui to allow him in whenever he appeared, which had been somewhat regularly of late.
Baizhu gave him a watery smile. He didn’t express himself in front of patients, so as not to worry them, but with a friend? There was no shame in giving in to a strong emotion now and then. He could already feel the tight tension in his chest easing as his tears flowed.
Or maybe that was Zhongli’s presence. The thought startled him, but he let it float up through his consciousness as a stray tear found its way down his cheek.
Zhongli reached out, his expression concerned, but thoughtful. His gaze flicked to Baizhu’s for a moment in a hesitation that felt uncharacteristically tentative, and then Zhongli reached out to gently wipe the tear with his thumb.
Even through a glove, the touch was soft and warm, and the expression in Zhongli’s topaz-gold eyes was even more so.
As it often did, the expression of support and concern made fresh tears rise to Baizhu’s eyes, but that was all right.
“Thank you.”
“Would you care to share your burdens?” Zhongli’s voice was quiet and calm.
“It has simply been a very difficult day.” Baizhu could hear the reedy quality of his own voice, even as he was already pushing himself off the wall to tidy up before bed.
Zhongli was at Baizhu’s elbow with the same swiftness that Baizhu imagined he used in fighting; the slight support at his arm made him breathe out in gratitude.
“Thank you, friend. This makes it much easier to face waking up and doing all this again tomorrow.” Baizhu sniffled, and fished around in his pocket for a handkerchief.
Again, with a swift motion, Zhongli presented a finely-wrought linen one of pale cream.
Baizhu held his gaze for a moment while accepting. Then he nodded, turned to dab at his eyes, and quietly thanked Zhongli.
When he turned around, Zhongli had gone.
Zhongli told himself he had left Baizhu to his privacy. But, in truth, he also needed a moment for himself. Maybe a few.
His feet hit stone steps in an uneven rhythm under the starry sky, and his mind swirled with a mixture of memories and realizations.
He stumbled along the path, caught himself, and slowed. Stars glowed down upon him, casting their soft light—eternal, unchanging.
Zhongli had worked so hard to view himself the same way. And yet, and yet….
Since he'd been injured he'd been feeling things so much more acutely. Not with the distance of a god, not with the long view over thousands of years that he'd become accustomed to.
No, now he felt buffeted by sharp memories, and pain, and delight, in equal measure. Something that had curled in his chest, asleep, felt as though it were beginning to rouse.
The city was still lively, and Zhongli watched it for a moment from the hill he'd unthinkingly climbed.
All of them, living out their lives in joy and pain, ecstasy and suffering. He had kept himself apart, but it was to protect their joys, their sorrows. To give them this life.
Lanterns twinkled at him from the city like immediate stars. He looked at them, and turned away. He would spend the night in the mountains, tonight.
The statue, in its unchanging pose, gaze cast down, face inscrutable in its hood, silently watched as he went by.
The next night, Zhongli walked alone again, and his steps were heavy. His body was healing; he could feel it almost as whole as before he’d been injured.
But his emotions—ah, this body felt them in such physical ways. He’d been inundated with memories as of late, in his dreams and in his idle moments.
He’d felt himself alert; exiting a fog he hadn’t know was surrounding him. The beautiful doctor, with his verdant hair and his laugh, both light on the breeze, had made Zhongli feel so very much younger than his history and this land’s would tell.
He felt Baizhu’s eyes glow at him in the fading light of more than one sunset, and Zhongli felt himself want. Yearn as he had not, since so long ago.
But how could he? How dare he saddle a mortal with the inevitable disaster of being bound to one such as Zhongli? His other names echoed in his head as well, reminders of his duty and of his nature.
His steps took him toward the pharmacy again, but his heart had tumbled years, decades, centuries into the past. He saw in his mind’s eye his last glimpse of one who had stolen his heart so, disappearing beneath the waves from which he’d failed to save her.
The long tail of his coat whipped into his vision, blown by the wind. He saw another, standing in the wind, his last bright backward smile warming Zhongli, and his vision blurred.
His feet halted, and he thought of another time he’d opened his heart. Granted sight to his beloved, only to lose him, to become a stranger, to be forced to lock him away again with his own hands.
Emotions erupted from, and it hurt almost like the physical wound he’d suffered years ago. He stopped, and clutched at his chest. The guilt, the loss—they felt so overwhelming. He drew breath, and it caught on the way in.
His cheeks were wet. Zhongli watched a tear plummet to the dry earth, wet spheres of water tinged with the faintest shimmer of gold. It wetted the dust around it, and he stared at it, feeling his body shudder painfully as memories wracked his thoughts.
A footstep to his left startled him, and he turned away. No longer was he a god to these people, but old habits died hard.
He knew by the careful pace that it was Baizhu, and Zhongli struggled unsuccessfully to control himself. His voice was ragged and scratchy.
“You shouldn’t…see me like this.”
“And why ever not?” The words could have sounded mocking or teasing from another, but in Baizhu’s soft tones they were simply accepting. Tender, even. “We are friends.”
Baizhu moved closer, and Zhongli did not pull away.
He felt arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, and a gentle pressure at the top of his head.
Even as he cried, Zhongli felt to himself how wonderful it felt to be held like this. He told himself it was this form, that humans had a need for touch, but he knew.
He knew that this quiet, beautiful flame had set his own heart alight, and he knew he would never be the same.
Zhongli had not been back to the pharmacy for quite a few days, and Baizhu was a little morose with it. He told himself he’d pay his former patient a visit, when he could spare some time.
He ignored the voice in his head that told him he was afraid. That he’d seen something in their time together, some spark of affection, that he’d imagined—that Zhongli did not return.
He busied himself tidying the last patient room to put it out of his mind.
Baizhu was completely unsuccessful. He followed the path Zhongli had led him earlier, up the staircase, doubling back, up yet another staircase…
He heard Zhongli’s low, rich tones bidding someone farewell, and his heart leapt.
Baizhu slowed before he got to any visible area, smoothing his hair and adjusting his shirt. It simply would not do to be quite so undignified—besides, he was getting out of breath.
Though the sun was setting, dawn broke over Zhongli’s face at seeing Baizhu.
Baizhu should be satisfied with this. He should. And yet….
“It’s good to see you, Zhongli. I’ve missed you.”
Baizhu wanted to bite his lips at being so blunt and straightforward. The silly smile that sprang unbidden to his lips was also distinctly unhelpful.
“Thank you, I—I find myself searching for your company as well.”
Baizhu felt the tiniest blush rise to his cheeks. He simply nodded.
Zhongli continued, “I am glad you are here. I find I need to ask you something—a query, not a service.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and shifted his weight slightly. Was Zhongli nervous? Baizhu didn’t think he’d ever seen him like this before. He had caught him unawares, darting up toward his apartment like a beleaguered delivery boy.
“Yes, of course.” Baizhu was still out of breath from his little trot; yes, that must be it. It was certainly not these expectant words that made him breathless. Nor could it be the handsome Zhongli himself, his figure limned in the aureate light of the setting sun.
With his hands still clasped behind him, Zhongli began to talk.
“I have always thought of strength as something eternal. Unchanging. Stalwart. In the life I have led,” he took a deep breath, let it out and continued, “strength has needed to be power. Protection.”
He looked out over Liyue. “These past weeks, I have learned so much from you. Persistence, change, resilience. These are things I see in you, and they are stronger than I have ever imagined.
“And it is—beautiful, and I find myself yearning to know more, and I am captivated by you.”
Zhongli turned back toward Baizhu, and he looked uncertain, but hope glimmered in his expression, too.
“I don’t know if that is a feeling you share, or…”
The fluttering feeling in Baizhu’s chest that he’d felt again and again when Zhongli visited began to soar. He took in a quick breath, then dashed over to Zhongli in wild abandon. Changsheng abandoned him in turn, sliding down off his shoulders with a sibilant, knowing rattle. She slithered away to one of her favorite hiding spots, but Baizhu barely noticed.
He meant simply to place a gleeful kiss onto Zhongli’s lips, but as he got closer he was lifted up into the air. Zhongli held Baizhu like he was a precious thing, and Baizhu’s heart thumped joyfully in his chest.
Without setting him down, Zhongli looked up at Baizhu, his gaze afire with topaz-yellow emotion, and Baizhu felt like a character in a novel, or a song.
Zhongli’s deep voice rumbled against him.
“You fascinate me, Baizhu. I adore you.”
Baizhu rested his hands on Zhongli’s face. A smile so gentle and fond it threatened to crack his chest open looked up at Baizhu, as Zhongli continued to hold him. He angled his head down, and Zhongli’s lips met his in a tender kiss.
The scent of fresh green life reaching through cracked stone filled the air. Baizhu thought about violetgrass, clinging defiantly to the sheer cliff faces where it grew. Its roots pushed through cracks, expanding and changing them but holding their pieces together into something new.
Zhongli deepened the kiss, and Baizhu felt his body come alive, every nerve responding to this bliss. He kissed back just as fervently, and when Zhongli set him back down they were both breathless.
“There is much I must tell you,” Zhongli began. “It would not be fair otherwise.”
Baizhu thought of Changsheng, and of his contract, and met Zhongli’s gaze evenly, though he did also lace their fingers together as he did so. “You are not the only one.”
Zhongli’s look of slight surprise was worth it, and Baizhu teased, “Ah, so you think you are the only one with secrets? This clearly will take several walks to figure out. Perhaps a dozen, I’d say.”
The smile on Zhongli’s face was brilliant, and Baizhu felt his own expression glowing just as brightly, as he tipped his head onto Zhongli’s shoulder and the sun dipped down behind the mountains.