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Zhongli was just settling in for the night with a cup of tea and a book when he heard a knock at his door. “I’ll be right there,” he called out, setting his things down on the table beside the couch.
It was only when he reached the door that the stench of blood made its way into his senses, and he grimaced. “What is it?” he asked, opening the door.
The first thing he noticed was Aether, gold eyes wide and frightened, and the second–
Childe’s body, crumpled over his shoulders.
“I know you two aren’t on good terms, but– I didn’t know what to do,” Aether said, almost breathless as Zhongli lifted Childe off his shoulders, supporting him himself.
“What happened?” Zhongli knew that Aether was already panicked, but he couldn’t keep the slight growl out of his voice.
“It was an accident, I promise– I know how he talks, but I would never–” Aether cut off his own voice with strained breathing. “Please just– just do what you have to.”
Zhongli took a deep breath, deciding to interrogate Aether later, when the situation was not so dire. “Leave, then. I want to be alone with him.”
Aether nodded, understanding, and scurried out the door, closing it behind him without quite slamming it.
Now that the room was silent, Zhongli was struck with how quiet Childe’s breathing was. In fact, even though his head was resting on Zhongli’s shoulder, he could barely feel any movement at all.
He tried to calm his nerves as he scooped Childe’s unresponsive body into his arms, carrying him into his bedroom and laying him out on the top sheet of his bed. It would do Childe no good if he were to work himself into a panic and injure him further, after all.
Although there was no way the other man would hear him, he apologized under his breath before pulling Childe’s jacket and then his shirt over his shoulders. Childe had refused to speak with him since learning his true identity, and there was no way he would agree to this were he awake. Still, if the choice was between letting Childe die and letting him be mad at Zhongli when he woke up, it was hardly a choice at all.
However, as he took a damp cloth and cleaned up the mass of rust covering Childe’s torso, the wound beneath becoming clearer and clearer, a tendril of doubt began to crawl into his mind.
Would Childe wake up?
No, no, of course he would. Zhongli would see to it. Aether had left Chidle in his hands, and he would do anything he had to to keep him alive.
Once he had cleared up the contours of the wound well enough to see what he was doing, he took a needle and began to stitch it closed, trying his hardest to stop his hands from shaking. Childe didn’t even flinch, and he supposed that was useful for the task at hand, but it clawed at his heart nonetheless.
Finally the wound was sealed, and no more blood was pouring out onto Zhongli’s sheets. Childe still did not stir. Zhongli continued cleaning the blood off of Childe’s chest, needing to occupy himself somehow so that he did not lose his mind waiting for Childe to wake up.
Eventually, there was no more blood to be cleaned, and Zhongli’s racing mind was forced to find something new to focus on. His eyes focused on the purple and blue spread over Childe’s skin around the wound. He had originally assumed that it was bruising, but now that he could see it more clearly, he could tell there was something more sinister about it that he hadn’t noticed before.
Childe had always a stench of the Abyss around him, but Zhongli had been under the impression that it had been– if not safe, since no exposure to the Abyss was safe for a mortal, then at least that Childe was managing it. This, however, quickly dispelled that notion. The dark tendrils marring his skin weren’t blood, but Abyssal corruption eating at him from the inside out.
Zhongli felt sick.
If this was what was doing Childe in, then mortal medicine wouldn’t be able to do anything more than delay the inevitable. The stitches Zhongli had given Childe might stop him from bleeding out, but even for a mortal as strong as Childe, there was no way he could survive this much Abyssal corruption.
Zhongli began to pace by Childe’s bedside, mind racing as he considered his options. Just letting Childe die was obviously not one of them. There was no way to ensure his survival, but doing nothing would certainly ensure his death.
There was… one thing he could think of doing, at least. The chances of it working were slim, but…
He looked over at Childe’s body, pale from loss of blood and barely breathing.
If he did not do this, there was no chance of him surviving at all.
He steeled himself, walking back over to the bed, and placing both hands on Childe’s chest. He felt the Adeptal energy flow through him into Childe, only to be resisted by the Abyssal corruption still coursing through his veins.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed harder, silently compelling the energy running through his veins to dig deeper into Childe’s chest, to breathe life into him in turn. From the times he had seen this ritual attempted on someone conscious, he knew it was painful, but he tried to shove away the thought to focus only on his work.
After more grueling minutes than he could count, the Abyssal resistance to his energy was almost eliminated, but there was still no reaction from Childe. With his last burst of determination, Zhongli closed his eyes, forcing out as much Adeptal energy as he could.
Finally, he saw a reaction– but it wasn’t Childe waking, as he had hoped. Instead, he realized despondently that the Adeptal energy was consuming him, flickering gold around his body until it became so bright even Zhongli had to close his eyes.
Zhongli was not so naive as to still put his faith in Celestia, but in that moment he understood the desire for a higher power one could plead to for mercy.
Suddenly, the bright light from behind his eyelids died down. His eyes flew open, and for a moment he panicked, Childe’s body missing from the bedsheets where it had once laid.
In its place, however, sat a small red fox, sound asleep but seemingly not in pain. Zhongli let out a shaky laugh of relief.
It worked.
Even after being turned into an Adeptus, Childe did not wake up. That was alright; it was what was to be expected, after all. It was a taxing process, and he had to give it time. For now, he was content to tend to him until he recovered enough energy to wake, and eventually, to take on a human form again.
For now, he remained in the form of a small fox. Zhongli hadn’t had a chance to examine his appearance much when he first turned him, relief replacing adrenaline and leaving him unable to do much other than collapse into a lounge chair and fall asleep himself. It was irresponsible, maybe, and he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if anything happened to Childe while he was asleep, but he hadn’t truly exerted himself in so long, that he had forgotten the bone-deep exhaustion that dragged one under like a riptide once the panic abated.
Luckily, when he woke, Childe hadn’t moved, still curled up in a ball on top of his bed. Zhongli noticed only now that the sheets were stained with blood; that wouldn’t do. He gently moved Childe’s sleeping form onto the lounge chair he had been sleeping on, tucking a throw blanket around him, before taking the sheets off of his bed to be washed.
Once he was finished, he returned to Childe’s side, where the small fox was still sound asleep. He seemed comfortable enough, but Zhongli let another tendril of Adeptal energy out anyways. While it had been some time since a mortal had been turned into an Adeptus, he remembered that in the early stages, when the girl was still unconscious like this, Cloud Retainer shared her own energy with her until she had recovered. So, as long as Childe was stuck in this form, Zhongli would have to take care of him in much the same way.
Not that Zhongli minded, of course. Compared to the energy required to turn him in the first place, the energy required to sustain Childe until he came to was minimal. Besides, seeing as he hadn’t had the chance to ask Childe for his permission, it was the least he could do.
It wasn’t too long until he fell into a comfortable routine. Every day, Zhongli would wake up, ready himself for work, and then provide the sleeping fox with Adeptal energy before leaving for the funeral parlor. He would pick up dinner from one of the street restaurants on the way home, then would take his meal with a book, spending the evening at Childe’s side, even if he did not respond.
Pathetic as it was, Zhongli found the company comforting, if it could even be called that. He still longed for the day Childe would wake, but he found himself looking forwards to coming home to the little fox every evening, and dreaded being alone once again. Of course, he would take that over Childe never waking, but he knew that Childe was still angry with him, and was unlikely to forgive him for doing something like this without his permission.
One night, after his work had taken an unexpected toll on him, he forwent dinner entirely, resolving to just go home and sleep off the day. However, upon arriving home, his fatigue was quickly dispelled when he realized that Childe was not where he remembered leaving him that morning.
Had something happened to him? No, there were no signs of anyone entering or exiting, so it wasn’t likely to be an outside force. Chances were, Childe had finally woken up.
Zhongli pushed down the new wave of anxiety that thought broke.
Wherever Childe was, he was likely still in the house, Zhongli reasoned. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his own energy, feeling for another signature in the house. After a minute of searching, he found one, although it wasn’t very strong, coming from the guest bedroom.
Zhongli made his way through the hallway, pausing when he reached the ajar door. He distinctly remembered it being closed when he had left, certainly this was confirmation enough.
He stepped quietly into the room, closing the door behind him. “Childe?”
Suddenly, a wave of anger, confusion and anxiety hit him, coming from the (now very much awake) red fox attempting to claw at the window.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Zhongli explained, putting up his palms in an expression of good will. “I’m sure you must be confused, but if you give me a minute, I can explain everything, alright?”
There were still no words from the connection, but Zhongli felt something that sounded like agreement. Ah– Childe probably still hadn’t figured out how to use the ability of an Adeptus to speak directly into a person’s mind, Zhongli realized belatedly. It was a shame that this conversation would then have to be one-sided, but he had faith that Childe would be able to pick up the skill quickly.
Once Childe calmed down, sitting down on the nightstand and watching him with appraising blue eyes, Zhongli began his tale, starting from the moment that Aether had arrived on his doorstep with Childe in tow. He explained what he had done to keep Childe alive, and Childe watched, their bond silent as he let Zhongli speak.
Finally, Zhongli explained how Childe would likely need to receive outside Adeptal Energy for a while longer until he was able to take on a human form again, and he felt a bright flash of frustration. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t ideal, but it shouldn’t take too long before you have recovered enough to transform, and in the meantime you are free to stay here as long as you need.”
Childe huffed, the sound carrying an undertone of frustration and… suspicion? “You aren’t being held here against your will,” Zhongli tried to explain. “If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you. But if you wish to return to your human form, I’m afraid that there is not another option.”
The fox nodded, the human-like expression odd coming from such a creature. The bond was silent again, and Zhongli found himself feeling distinctly awkward.
“I know that before this, we left off on… less than ideal terms. I know that you likely did not want to see me, but I hope that you can at least allow me to help you for the time being. I would hate to see my previous faults hurt you further by causing you to refuse my assistance.”
Childe took longer to consider his words than Zhongli would have liked, but he was in no place to force any more demands onto him.
“You may keep the guest room to yourself, if you would like. I can imagine it might make you more comfortable to have a place in the house to yourself, no?” The emotion that came across the bond seemed agreeable enough. “In that case, is there anything else you might want to be more comfortable?”
A flash of indecipherable colors and shapes came flooding through the bond. Ah– he had forgotten, again, that in this form Childe was unable to communicate like before.
“Don’t worry– it shouldn’t be too much longer until you are able to ‘speak’ into my mind amd communicate freely,” Zhongli exclaimed. “It is an ability of all Adepti, but most of us have had much more time to learn than you. In any case, we will have to make do like this for a while more. Are you hungry? Tired? Ekaterina has already been informed of your condition– in vague terms, but she knows you will be out of commission for a while. She does not know you have woken up yet, but I can tell her tomorrow, if that is what you are worried about.”
Childe shook his head, seemed to try again to send a more distinct message Zhongli’s way, then gave up, curling into his tail with another huffing sound. Zhongli found the sight oddly cute.
“I didn’t pick up any dinner tonight, so if you are hungry, I am afraid you will have to do with leftovers. I was planning to go to sleep soon, so how about I prepare you something to eat, then return to my own room? I’ll leave it in the kitchen. In the meantime, I promise not to return to this room. Like I said before, I know you are likely still upset with me, so hopefully, by allowing you to have a space to yourself, you will feel more comfortable here.” Zhongli was aware that he was talking too much, but without Childe to reply, he felt as though he needed to fill the silence somehow.
“It should only be a few minutes,” Zhongli said after the pause in conversation went unended yet again.
It felt odd, to talk to himself like this while talking to Childe, but some part of him was secretly relieved. He didn’t know if he was ready yet for Childe to tell him to his face he no longer wanted to see him. For the time being, it seemed like they were at a temporary ceasefire; Childe understanding that Zhongli was only trying to help and Zhongli not stepping over the tentative lines he had drawn. Hopefully, this would prove to Childe that he still cared in some way, but he couldn’t count on it.
He left to the kitchen and heated up the leftovers from last night’s dinner, scooping them onto a plate and leaving it on the low table in the connected living room. He then returned to his own room, closing the door behind him and changing into his sleepwear.
It felt oddly lonely in his bedroom, Zhongli realized belatedly. He had grown accompanied to Childe being asleep just across from him. Now, even though Childe had woken up, he felt even more isolated than before.
Not that it was fair of him to be upset about that, of course. It was better that Childe was recovering, and he couldn’t let his own selfish loneliness overtake that fact.
In the following days, they fell into a comfortable rhythm– every morning, before leaving for work, Zhongli would prepare breakfast for Childe, then lend him another piece of Adeptal energy, and when he came home, he would bring takeout with him for the two of them to split. Additionally, Childe’s usage of Adeptal communication had gradually become more refined, and he was now able to more or less speak comprehensibly into Zhongli’s mind. It was less refined than the abilities of a fully formed Adeptus, as sometimes his emotions got away from him and his words devolved into swirls of feeling, and he was unable to project images into another’s mind, but he was making significant progress, and Zhongli was glad to have a conversation partner again. He was also glad that Childe had not yet brought up their earlier fight, but he couldn’t admit that.
One evening, Zhongli came home with takeout from Wanmin in tow, calling out for Childe as he took off his shoes and hung up his coat at the door. In only a few moments, he heard the fox’s now-familiar footsteps as he leapt off of his bed and into the entryway.
“I was waiting forever,” the voice in his mind complained. “What took you so long?”
“I’m very sorry,” Zhongli said, bringing a hand to his chest in apology. “When I arrived at Wanmin, a previous client of mine was also having dinner, and I stopped to speak to her before coming home.”
“Well, I was bored,” Childe grumbled. “There’s nothing to do here when you’re gone.”
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you any longer than necessary. If it helps, I picked up one of Xiangling’s new seafood dishes that I thought you might like.”
Zhongli felt a flash of agreement, and began unpacking the food, setting it onto the table and sitting down next to Childe. He noticed the fox’s tail flicking in annoyance, not yet starting to eat.
“Is something the matter?”
“No, it’s nothing,” Childe replied. A pause– “I mean, at least I don’t have to humiliate myself with chopsticks anymore, but eating in this form still feels so… undignified.”
“Even if you cannot fully transform into a human again, I would not be surprised if you were able to take on a more humanoid form soon,” Zhongli offered, setting down his own chopsticks.
Childe turned towards him, confusion and curiosity flowing through their bond. Zhongli found it cute– one more experienced with the Adeptal arts would usually block their raw emotions from being shared. “Is there something about that which confuses you?”
“I don’t really know what you’re talking about,” Childe admitted. “What ‘humanoid’ form am I supposed to be able to take on if I can’t return to how I was before?”
“Ah– I had forgotten that you lack experience with the Adepti. I assume you are familiar with the concept of an Adeptus having multiple forms, no?”
“Like the Exuvia versus…” Childe gestured towards Zhongli with his head. “This?”
Zhongli nodded. “Precisely. This current form of yours would be the equivalent of my Exuvia. However, those two forms are not the only ones I am capable of. Most pertinent to this discussion, there are also… in-between forms of sorts. If you have seen Miss Ganyu at all during your time in Liyue, you understand what I am referring to.”
Childe seemed to think for a moment. “The Qixing girl with the horns?”
Zhongli nodded. “Her full Illuminated Beast form is a Qilin, a creature that resembles a stag, with the horns that you have noticed on her current form. She, like any other Adeptus, is also capable of a full human disguise, but those can be draining, and since her position as an Adeptus is no secret, she prefers to only maintain a part-human form– human-like enough to live and work in human society without difficulty, but not enough to hide the fact that she is not a human herself.
“Since my own Adeptal nature is not something I want getting out, I choose to keep up a fully human form instead. However, I can still take on my part-human form if I choose, even if it is rarely practical. I could give you a visual demonstration, if you’d like.”
Childe thought for a moment, then nodded. “Sure.”
Zhongli closed his eyes and allowed his hold on his mortal form to relax, feeling his true self seep through the gaps. Geo energy filled the room as the familiar weight of his horns and tail returned to his body, and he let the feeling settle for a moment before opening his eyes again.
“This form would be my equivalent of Ganyu’s,” Zhongli explained. “As you can see, while I am still generally humanoid, some of the more distinctive features of my Illuminated Beast form are present as well.”
The fox watches him, and even through their bond, Zhongli finds it difficult to evaluate his reaction.
“…Is something wrong, Childe?”
Childe startles, blinking at him like he hadn’t expected to be addressed. “N-no,” Zhongli hears. “So, you think I’d be able to… transform into something similar?”
Zhongli nods. “There will be differences due to the fact that we are different kinds of Illuminated Beast, but I do believe you have regained enough strength for this kind of transformation.”
Childe nods, and Zhongli feels a burst of determination from him. The air in the room begins to swirl with Hydro energy, getting stronger and stronger until–
Until it dissipates, leaving Childe still in his fox form.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon,” Zhongli said, hearing the concern seep into his voice. Had he pushed Childe too far?
“I’ll keep working at it,” Childe says, but his voice is disappointed. “I guess you won’t be rid of me as soon as you’d hoped, then.”
Zhongli shook his head emphatically. “I don’t want to rush you. Regaining your strength will take a long time, and after causing this transformation myself, it would be amiss of me to force you to leave before you are ready.”
Childe sighed in response, and Zhongli absentmindedly reached out to pet one of his orange ears.
Before Zhongli could make contact, though, Childe tensed, and Zhongli realized what he had been about to do.
“I– I’m sorry,” Zhongli apologized, pulling his hand away. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s fine,” Childe said after a pause. “I was just surprised.”
Childe leaned his head towards Zhongli’s hand in invitation, and with a smile, Zhongli brought his hand back to scratch the fox’s ear obligingly. Childe made a pleased sound, almost like a chirp, and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out, falling asleep. Evidently, the attempt at a transformation had exhausted him.
“Sleep well, Childe,” Zhongli said before leaning down and pressing his lips to the fox’s forehead.