Chapter Text
Baizhu had only met Mr. Zhongli fleetingly.
He'd always be standing beside that Hu Tao. He was quiet, respectful, and apologising profusely on behalf of Hu Tao's belligerence. However Baizhu was always much too busy retrieving Qiqi to pay much attention to the gentleman, nor did he pay much attention to the way Changsheng would wrap around his neck just a little tighter in the funeral consultant's presence.
Once, Qiqi was safely in his arms, and he'd briskly walk out the Wanghsheng Funeral Parlour, not looking back. It would be then that Changsheng would loosen her grip before making some snide comment about Hu Tao's constant antics. Baizhu kept his frustrations silent... especially in Qiqi's presence. Qiqi was safe, at least. In the end, that was his priority.
Changsheng hisses, "You should know better than to be running around after that girl. Those stairs will be the death of you.."
As blunt as always. Baizhu sighs, his breathing still strained from his quick travel to the Palour; he hadn't the energy to lecture Changsheng for saying such a thing and in public no less. But, She was right. He couldn't keep rushing around to save Qiqi, but that Hu Tao was beyond reason.
He should really have someone else do it despite his reluctance to rely on another. But Gui, the pharmacy assistant, wasn't the most reliable... Gui was admittedly spooked by the bizarre funeral director and hadn't the firmness to be taken seriously. He needed force. One of the many things Baizhu may not look like he possessed, but was in excess when it came to protecting Qiqi. That little girl was under his responsibility - his illness was no excuse to neglect her.
Qiqi was staring up at him with wide pinkish eyes.. not a glint of light in them other than the shallow reflect of the Liyue sun. The girl was dead. She had been for a long, long time. Yet, she lives. She breathes. She eats. She can enjoy a fruitful life in immortality. Some may think the sickly doctor envied or resented Qiqi for this. However, instead, only admiration stared fondly into those dead but very much alive eyes. If she can live forever, perhaps someday he can too.
Qiqi says in her monotonous voice, "Qiqi... was put in a box."
"A box?" Changsheng replied incredulously, tongue flicking out as she turned her tiny head to face Qiqi's little face.
Baizhu sighs again, slightly hoarse, "A casket, Qiqi." He adjusts his grip on the girl as he prepares to ascend the first steps up to Bubu Pharmacy. Changsheng scoffs.
Many look and wait as Baizhu visibly struggles to ascend the stairs: breathing shallow, moving slowly, and sweating. None assist. Biazhu knew they looked at him with pity, but what sort of doctor would he be if someone else got hurt trying to help him? No. He refused. And anyway, Baizhu preferred to handle it on his own.
Finally, he makes it to the top and entrance to the pharmacy. And finally, he could put Qiqi down. Qiqi looks up at Baizhu blankly. Baizhu's heaving chest and visible discomfort didn't seem to register with all its gravity in Qiqi's mind, yet she still seems to look at the doctor with slight concern. A voice cut through to Baizhu's ears - a shrill call far from delighted.
"Doctor Baizhu!"
Changsheng grumbles in annoyance at the concerned call. Herbalist Gui rushes out the pharmacy, causing quite a scene. Qiqi meets Gui's panicked gaze and simply points up at Baizhu.
"Doctor Baizhu is... sick."
Changsheng only seems more peeved off - in her eyes, that man was constantly making a big thing out of someone else's very private business. She hisses in disapproval, glaring daggers. Her volatile presence was the only thing stopping Gui from getting much closer to Baizhu. Baizhu closes his eyes, focusing solely on his breathing - blocking out those familiar faces of those closest to him... Gui. Qiqi. Changsheng.
Just as his breathing evens, Baizhu bursts into a coughing fit - his body shaking violently, nearly throwing Changsheng off his shoulders.
"Doctor Baizhu..!" Both Qiqi and Gui cried in response, in polarising levels of distress - Qiqi sounding mildly bothered whilst Gui once again called out shrill or shriek. Qiqi gives Baizhu's long plaited hair a small tug - a weak attempt at what could be considered assistance whilst Gui was scrambling through his pockets to find a handkerchief for the doctor. Gui thrusts the cloth into Baizhu's face. As Baizhu takes it, Changsheng uses her tail to swat at Gui's hand, forcing him to recoil and let out a yelp. Baizhu quickly covers his mouth with the cloth, not wanting anyone to notice the blood he's coughed up - the metallic taste on his tongue was one he wished he didn't know so well.
Changsheng huffs and hisses, "You should take a break, Baizhu.."
Baizhu hated to admit it, but she was right. Hasty travel to the Wanghsheng Funeral Parlour did a number on him. Winded, Baizhu makes his way into the pharmacy, cloth still at his lips. Qiqi follows. Gui hurries ahead, ready to convince Baizhu to take it easy - his opportunity to prove himself... but he falters. Baizhu pulls out some parchment, and with a brush and ink pot, he swiftly writes instructions for Gui - his handwriting is neat despite his tremors. Baizhu presents the list to Gui, wiping his mouth with the cloth and folding it as he pulls it off his mouth to speak clearer.
"Make sure that all the month's shipment of mist flower corolla arrives this evening... Just... collect it from the wharf, would you?"
Gui takes the parchment with both hands, scanning it up and down thrice. Changsheng snidely comments.
"Wow... you'd think he needs the glasses, not you, Baizhu."
Baizhu huffs, amused at her antics, but too weary to laugh. The brief softening to his expression fades into worry as he glances down at Qiqi momentarily. Baizhu says firmly, voice remaining hoarse.
"And... make sure Qiqi doesn't wander off... especially not near the Wanghsheng Funeral Parlour."
Qiqi looks confused. She'd already forgotten why she should avoid that accursed establishment, but she took Baizhu's word for it. Gui nods, beaming a little.
"Certainly, Doctor Baizhu!"
With that, Baizhu crumples the cloth in a balled fist. He leaves the pharmacy, walking around the side to his bedroom. Though he didn't turn back, he could hear Qiqi hesitate, wanting to follow but not. Baizhu retires for the night.
...
As Baizhu eventually settles to sleep, Changsheng, who was curled up on the other pillow, decides to strike up a conversation. Instead of the usual chastising for Baizhu's lack of consideration for his own well-being, Changsheng hissed lowly, as if exchanging a secret,
"There was a strange energy at the Wanghsheng Funeral Parlour."
Baizhu props himself up slightly, squinting to see Changsheng without his glasses - which are now carefully placed aside on a bedside table.
Baizhu says curtly, "Of course there is. It's a funeral... and she is there."
Baizhu didn't hate Hu Tao. He merely found her persistent behaviour intolerable and it just so happened to be at odds with everything he valued. Yes... Not hate. Though constantly abducting Qiqi and acting so cocky despite being caught in her cruelty? He'd much rather she focus on those dead and ready to be buried.
Changsheng shakes her head sharply.
"No, no, no.. I'm talking about him."
"Her grandfather?"
The previous funeral director - except he was dead. Was Changsheng alluding to ghosts? It's outlandish even for her! Changsheng was growing frustrated, her temper short. Her tail whips, hitting the pillow with a soft thump. She reiterates, "The funeral consultant."
Baizhu barely kept back the instinctual "who?" which threatened to emerge. He knew who Changsheng was talking about, although barely.
"Mr... Zhongli?"
Changsheng nods.
"Very strange energy with that one."
Baizhu mulls the idea over, trying to recall previous encounters.
"Really? I'd say he seems quite pleasant."
Changsheng scoffs, "Don't tell me he's fooled you too!"
Baizhu sighs, pushing his hair back out of his face.
"Fooled? You're too paranoid. Indeed, he works for Miss Hu Tao of all people... but he seems pleasant."
"Tch.. You don't know him."
"And neither do you."
If Changsheng had arms, Baizhu would have a pillow launched at him; instead, Changsheng curles up on that pillow, looking aside. Baizhu yawns, rolling around. Odd that Changsheng would bring something up like that. She seemed genuinely concerned. Baizhu's eyes lie on that crumpled cloth again which laid on his bedside table - the stain of blood acting as a stark reminder to how not-normal things were currently.
After a moment of thinking, Baizhu concedes, "I'll be careful."
That was all Changsheng wished to hear - the minimum, at least.