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The road to Chenyu Vale was quiet.
Qiqi walked beside Baizhu, her small fingers tucked inside his gloved hand. He hadn’t brought his medicine satchel. No herbs. No scrolls. Just a bundle of fresh wildflowers tied with a green ribbon.
When she asked where they were going, he simply said:
"To pay respect."
They left the noise of Liyue Harbor far behind. The mountains loomed like old giants, and mist gathered low on the trail. Baizhu walked slower than usual—carefully, almost reverently. Qiqi noticed. But didn’t speak.
Eventually, they climbed a soft, grassy hill, high enough that clouds brushed the edge of the slope. And at the top, there was a stone.
A single tombstone, alone in the silence.
Baizhu knelt before it and placed the flowers down gently. He brushed some moss off the carved name with his hand. Then sat still, just looking. The wind was quiet. The air felt soft and sad.
Qiqi stood beside him. “Who is this?”
Baizhu glanced at her. His smile was small and different than usual.
“My master,” he said. “He taught me medicine. Took me in when I had nothing.”
Qiqi tilted her head. “Like what Dr. Baizhu to Qiqi?”
He blinked. Then chuckled very quietly. “Yes. Something like that.”
Qiqi stared at the stone a moment longer.
“Why did he die?”
Baizhu looked back at the tombstone.
“…He was sick,” he replied slowly.
Qiqi frowned. “Sick?”
He nodded. “A sickness that couldn’t be cured. Even with all the medicine he knew.” Baizhu said, fingers resting lightly on the name carved in stone.
There was a beat of silence. Qiqi’s fingers clenched slightly in his.
Then her eyes slowly widened. A sudden memory stirred—those quiet days when Baizhu fell ill. He did so often enough that, even though Qiqi tended to forget things, she still remembered it. She remembered the way Gui would say, with a furrowed brow, that Baizhu’s sickness was strange, elusive, something no healer had yet been able to cure. Not even Baizhu himself.
A thought, soft and slow, began to thud in her chest.
“…Like the one Dr. Baizhu has?”
He didn’t answer at first.
Then he looked at her and said softly, “Something like that.”
The wind moved. Not cold, but not warm either.
Qiqi stared at the flowers. Then at Baizhu. His skin always looked a little pale. Sometimes he coughed at night when he thought she was asleep.
She didn’t say anything. She just let go of his hand—only to wrap both arms around his from the side. Hugging him. Small and stiff, like always.
“Is Dr. Baizhu going to die too?” she asked. Her voice didn’t tremble. But it cracked, barely.
Baizhu looked at her. “Not now,” he said. “Not soon, I hope.”
“...But someday?”
He hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes, someday.”
Qiqi looked down at the tombstone. At the flowers. At the grass that grew even though someone had stopped breathing here.
She stared for a long time.
Then, slowly, carefully, she grip Baizhu's arms harder.
“…Qiqi don’t want Dr. Baizhu to leave.”
Baizhu pulled her into a hug from the side. Gentle. Warm.
“Qiqi don’t want Dr. Baizhu to die,” she whispered.
And it was strange. Because Baizhu, for once, had no answer to what Qiqi said. No comfort. Nothing.
He just held her close. Quietly.
“Hsss, you made Qiqi worried, you fool,” Changsheng hissed.
Qiqi felt the soft tap of the snake’s tail on her head, like a pat. Small. Reassuring.
Baizhu lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Qiqi…”
Qiqi shook her head and slowly looked up at him.
“Qiqi will protect Dr. Baizhu. From dying. From being sick. From everything.”
Baizhu blinked—startled, maybe. Then smiled.
“That’s… a very big promise.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead lightly against hers.
“Then I’ll do my best,” he said gently. “to make your promise easier to keep.”
Qiqi closed her eyes, just for a moment.
Because even though she couldn’t remember a lot of things… She knew she would remember this.
This promise. This hug. This wish.
Forever.