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The doors to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor swung open, the eccentric director rushing through excitedly. The mischievous grin on her face promised pranks and trouble. The employees of the parlor grimaced; Hu Tao could be impossible when she had that look on her face. All eyes turned desperately to the only possible soother of the inevitable chaos.
“Is everything alright, Director Hu?” Zhongli, the ever patient consultant, voiced. His calm manner of speaking reassured all the panicking staff members.
“Just who I was looking for,” Hu Tao grinned, rushing over to hook her arm with Zhongli’s and pull him with her.
“Might I ask what you need, Director?” Zhongli, unfortunately used to such man-handling from Hu Tao, sighed and resigned himself to his fate. He’d long given up on getting Hu Tao to refrain from pulling him around.
“Just follow me,” Hu Tao refused to answer the question, throwing the parlor’s door open once more and dragging him alongside her. Zhongli was certain that the two of them made quite the spectacle. Hu Tao only let him go once they made it to the docks. There, she waved over a group of three.
“I presume this is the man you were referring to,” a short man with white hair, addressed Hu Tao.
“It was very thoughtful of you to arrange the meeting yourself,” the second man, with dark hair and the ears of a Valuka Shuna. Behind both men, a young girl with green hair stood, a note of apprehension in her posture. Based on the second man’s race and the group’s general dress, Zhongli noted that this group must have come from Sumeru.
“Are these your friends, Director Hu?” Zhongli addressed his boss directly. While he would have normally given her a stern warning about dragging him through the city as she had, he was not socially inept. To lecture his boss at, presumably, a business meeting would be beyond inappropriate, no matter how correct he may be.
“New friends they will have to be,” Hu Tao sighed, though she didn’t seem upset, “after all, they’ve already denied to become my customers.”
“My apologies,” the white haired one said seriously, “but none of us are in need of funeral services.”
“Aya,” Hu Tao shook her head, “being prepared can never hurt though. It wo-”
“Perhaps such talk ought to be reserved for another occurrence, Director,” Zhongli cut Hu Tao off. He could see the unease in the Sumerian girl’s eyes. “After all, your friends must have had a long journey. To travel from Sumeru, despite being a bordering nation, is no easy task. I’m certain your friends here must be exhausted. It would be wise to get straight to the point of this meeting.”
“You’re not exactly wrong,” the Valuka Shuna sighed, glancing at his young charge, “it was definitely a long journey. Cyno, we really should get business done as Mr-” the man paused, before seeming to realize something, “pardon me, but we never got your name.”
“It seems that introductions are due,” Zhongli agreed, “my name is Zhongli. I serve the Wansheng Funeral Parlor in a consultancy capacity.”
“And you’re my heir, as of Lantern Rite,” Hu Tao oh so helpfully reminded him. Zhongli stiffened. Although he had been confident the director was going to survive the ceremony for the Sanctification of Tao Dou, there had been no certainty. There was no doubt he would have stepped up in the case of her demise, yet he was not particularly happy about being reminded of it. For all Hu Tao’s pranks and jokes, Zhongli still cared deeply about her. It was yet to be her time for death.
“I believe I have asked you not to be so callous in mentioning that fact,” Zhongli reminded her sternly. He had wanted to avoid lecturing her publicly, but he felt that this was a subject and boundary he could not allow to slide or ignore for even a moment. He would not allow her to dismiss her death like that.
“Alright, alright,” Hu Tao gave in, “I’ll stop. Anyhow, Zhongli, meet Cyno, Tighnari, and Collei. Apparently they were looking for information on the gods and adepti of our humble nation, and the Traveler advised them to seek answers at our parlor.”
“We were looking for directions and coincidentally bumped into the director herself,” the Valuka Shuna explained, “when we explained our situation, she told us that she had an expert consultant that we could speak with. Then she ran off.”
“I told Tighnari that we should have just followed her,” the white haired man elaborated and Zhongli noted that he must be Cyno, “but he had faith in the director so we waited.”
“If you are looking for information on the adepti, I can certainly provide that,” Zhongli responded, “our nation is one built by deities and sustained by them. Although we are now in the age of mortals, they are still highly regarded and highly worshipped beings. It was wise of the Traveler to point you in the direction of Wangsheng. For centuries it has been Wansheng’s duty to uphold rites for fallen adepti. Hence, the parlor is privy to much that ordinary mortals are unaware of regarding the adepti. Adep-”
“No need for the robust introduction, Zhongli,” Hu Tao rolled her eyes, “they are already aware of the parlor’s role. Besides, you know more about the adepti and the rites than even I do. There’s a reason that I had you handling the rites for Rex Lapis’s passing. Now don’t bore our clients now, would you?”
Tighnari and Cyno shared a look. It seems that this Zhongli fellow was a big deal. After all, you had to be someone impressive in order to handle the burial rites of an archon, especially one as long-lived and renowned as Morax.
“My apologies, Director,” Zhongli apologized and turned to the group from Sumeru, “what services exactly am I to be providing here? Are you looking for a tour of various adeptal sights, insight for a research paper, or something of another sort?”
The two men glanced at each other once more, before Tighnari finally said, "Something of another sort.”
“I see,” Zhongli understood that whatever they had wanted to discuss was private in nature, “perhaps we ought to discuss this at the parlor itself. It may provide more privacy than the streets.”
“That seems fair,” Tighnari nodded, before turning to Collei, “did your friends tell you where you’d be meeting them?”
“Yes, Master Tighnari,” Collei replied nervously. She hadn’t expected the attention to turn to her. “Amber and Eula said they’d meet me at a place called Wanmin Restaurant.”
“I can take you there,” Hu Tao offered, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I haven’t seen Xiangling in a while, so it’d be nice to catch up with her.”
“Alright,” Collei agreed, still nervous.
“If you’re going,” Zhongli turned to his boss, “would you be so kind as to send my regards to Guoba?”
“Of course,” Hu Tao replied, an easy grin on her face. She turned to Cyno and said, “You can leave the consultancy fee we agreed upon at the parlor.”
“We will,” Cyno nodded seriously, “this is something very important to me, so we will not spare any mora for it.”
“Then we should head to the parlor immediately,” Zhongli said resolutely. He began to walk towards the parlor, the two men trailing behind them.
Zhongli was almost certain he was aware of what these men wanted from the adepti. They were likely searching for answers regarding the sealed archon’s remains in the girl or the spirit of Hermanubis in the man. The energy was glaringly obvious to anyone sensitive enough to the power of deities. While Guoba likely couldn’t sense the power, owing to the form he was in, it was very likely that Cloud Retainer and Streetward Rambler had. Since both lived in the city, it was nigh certain that they were aware of this power. There were even chances that Ganyu and Yanfei, both only half-adeptus, had noticed as well.
“This room will serve us well,” Zhongli motions for the two to sit down in the parlor’s conference room. “I will return with a pot of tea.” He knew that the two needed a moment to discuss amongst themselves.
“What trouble has the director caused this time?” Ferrylady groaned as he prepped the tea.
“None at all,” Zhongli responded as he boiled the water, “the director has simply arranged two clients for me. They are not in the back to discuss reparations, I assure you.”
“Thank Rex Lapis,” Ferrylady breathed, and Zhongli could only chuckle at the irony.
When he returned to the room with the tea, he was glad to have left. The two men seemed even more serious than before. Whatever they had discussed was a heavy subject.
“You came highly recommended by the Traveler,” Cyno began, narrowing his eyes, “it’s why we are willing to trust a stranger with this matter. I expect that you will keep everything completely private.”
“That will be our contract,” Zhongli replies, his voice steady and unyielding. “As you are not from Liyue, I will warn you. Rex Lapis once said that those who break their contracts will suffer the wrath of the rock. I hope that you understand this, as I doubt you will find the consequences pleasant.”
“There will be no breaking of any contracts here,” Tighnari said firmly, “we will compensate the parlor as we have arranged with Ms. Hu Tao.”
“Then we may begin,” Zhongli rested his hands in front of him, “what exactly about the deities of Liyue do you wish to know?”
“It’s not exactly about the deities we need to know,” Tighnari hesitated, “it’s a little bit more complicated than that.”
“Sumeru has deities of her own,” Cyno spoke up, silently communicating something to Tighnari, “the rain-”
“The goddess of wisdom, Lord Kusanali, reigned over the forest as the dendro archon,” Zhongli recounted. With Irminsul changed, there was no need to mention Rukkhadevata. “Nabu Malikata was the goddess of flowers, known by other titles such as the queen of all oases and mistress of Pushpavatika. The Scarlet King Deshret once ruled over the desert and was known as the God king, Al Ahmar, and Asar Sekhem Khepera Kheftiu Tem Ra Horakhty just to name a few. The three god-kings ruled Sumeru in a triumvirate. Now, only the dendro archon remains, the others relegated to ruins and relics of the past.”
“You’re more knowledgeable than I thought,” Cyno said, begrudgingly impressed.
Frankly, he hadn’t thought much of the consultant that the traveler recommended. Whatever Liyuen knowledge he might have, it was unlikely that the consultant would be able to assist in cross referencing with Hermanubis. Cyno had been somewhat weary about how fast the suggestion for this Wangsheng consultant came from the Traveler. The minute Cyno had mentioned that he and Tighnari wanted to look into the power of Liyuen adepti to see if it had any sort of resonance with the power of Hermanubis, the Traveler had immediately suggested this man. Now, however, Cyno was beginning to understand why the Traveler had made the quick suggestion.
“Since you have brought up the Sumerian deities,” Zhongli ignored the compliment, “I presume that you have some desire to cross reference between the adepti and the power that lies in the desert. It is a truly fascinating discussion to have. I am surprised other scholars have yet to try and write a paper about the differences between the arts of the Liyuen adepti and the arts of the sages of Deshret. The adepti have various arts - mechanics, seals, talismans, magic, and various other forms of power. Deshret’s society was propagated by a myriad of electronic devices. If you’re-”
“We aren’t looking to write a paper on the differences,” Tighnari interrupted, “we’re here to see if we can discover anything regarding Cyno’s condition.”
“I see,” Zhongli nodded, before turning to Cyno, “your garb tells me that you are likely from the desert. Have you tripped some sort of trap and got cursed? Are you looking to see if adeptal methods could treat that?” Zhongli knew exactly what was going on of course, but as a mere mortal, he could not say so. He would wait for Cyno to say it himself.
“Not really,” Cyno shook his head, “but a similar sort of principle. When I was a child, I was forcibly merged with a ba fragment -Hermanubis’s power. Recently, I merged with another one, and I’ve been experiencing odd side effects.”
“We were hoping that the adepti might have some sort of knowledge on how to treat this,” Tighnari continued for Cyno. “Of all the seven nations, Liyue is most famous for its deities; we were hoping that there’d be someone with enough arcane adeptal knowledge that might be able to help. Rarely do even Liyuen people meet adepti, so we chose to consult an expert rather than attempt to consult the adepti themselves. ”
Zhongli pondered on what exactly to do. If he were still the geo archon, it would be as simple as prescribing Cyno an adpetal talisman. From what Zhongli himself could see, there just seemed to be some resentful energy embedded in the ba fragments. A simple cleansing talisman should do the trick. Afterwards, the fragments would settle nicely and painlessly into Cyno’s body. The question was how to give the talisman without arousing suspicion.
Suddenly, it came to him: Xiao. If he sent the pair to Wangshu inn, it’d take them at least a few hours to arrive. If Zhongli teleported before they could get there, he’d be able to hand the talisman over to Xiao and instruct him to give it to the two Sumerians. Then this would all be over with and there would be no risk of Hermanubis’s power getting to a horrible point of corruption. Dangerous power should not be ignored until it erupted; it should be taken care of swiftly. Still, he couldn’t get ahead of himself. He had to wait until Cyno spoke. Zhongli was still mortal; unlike Morax, he couldn’t know these things until he was told directly.
“There have been similar situations among the adepti,” Zhongli spoke carefully, not wanting to blow his cover, “the records speak of multiple instances where the Yakshas would cleanse evil energy that was within people. Cloud Retainer, the adeptus of Mt. Aocang, was also known for this sort of ability. I also believe there are cases of Rex Lapis himself dealing with god remains trapped in people. Hundreds of years ago, there was a fallen adeptus called Reef Soarer. Upon his passing, the elemental remains of his body were absorbed by a young girl. When the elders of the village found out, they prayed to Rex Lapis for assistance. Rex Lapis heard their calls and brought forth a talisman, saying, “With this seal shall the evil pass and the ill effects be negated. May this child live and dwell in peace” The talisman was placed on the child and Rex Lapis’s word came true. The child wielded the power of the fallen adeptus with pain no longer.”
“Considering that Rex Lapis is…” Tighnari coughed, trying to find the right way to say it. After all, the death of Rex Lapis was a sensitive topic amongst his followers. “...no longer on this mortal plane, I would assume our next best solution is to seek out one of the yakshas you spoke of.”
“Unfortunately,” Zhongli shook his head, the pain of his yakshas’ deaths deep in his heart, “in this era, there is only one remaining yaksha: Adeptus Xiao, the conqueror of demons.”
“I see,” Cyno mulled over Zhongli’s words. “Where could we expect to find this yaksha?”
“He is the guardian of Wangshu Inn,” Zhongli replied, fondness seeping into his voice subconsciously, “he has guarded that place for several hundreds of years. He is a powerful and wonderful adeptus.”
The two friends looked amongst themselves, a silent conversation taking place. After a few minutes, Cyno spoke up.
“Would he be willing to assist us?” Cyno asked the hard question, “We are not from Liyue, so he would have no reason to assist us whatsoever.”
“Adeptus Xiao would likely be able to sense this power within you,” Zhongli pointed out, “I don’t believe any adeptus would want a vessel with leaking power around Liyue. If only for the sake of the Harbor, I am certain that he would assist you.” After all, Xiao was a kind child. He always wished to keep the people safe; it’s why he stayed away, lonely and in pain, for so long.
“Wangshu Inn isn’t close by,” Tighnari said warily, “Collei hasn’t stayed in Liyue before. I’m worried about having an overnight stay here. If we can’t get the yaksha to help, it will make her anxious for nothing.”
“If it would help,” Zhongli suggests, pulling out some paper, “I could write you a recommendation letter. Wangsheng, due to our duties over Liyuen death rites in both past and present, has close ties with the Conqueror of Demons. He even spent Lantern Rite with the Director, Traveler, myself, and some other friends a few years past. If it will ease the burden of the decision, I would be happy to provide you with an introduction.”
“In that case,” Cyno stood, preparing to leave, “we might as well take it.”
Zhongli nodded and began writing on the paper. He let the words flow, writing something as befitting his role as a consultant. While Xiao was likely to do it anyway, it would still be nice to show him the respect he deserved.
“Thank you very much,” Tighnari thanked Zhongli, holding the recommendation letter tight.
“It is no problem,” Zhongli smiled gently, “you two seem to be inspiring individuals. I would have enjoyed conversing with you regardless, albeit under better circumstances and about happier topics. Please, feel free to direct any other inquiries you may have.”
“I think we’d better get out of your hair,” Tighnari declined the offer, “if we’re heading to Wangshu Inn, we’ll have to begin the journey quickly. That’s going to take time as it is, not including the time we’ll need to wait before retrieving Collei.”
“I hope she’s enjoying herself,” Cyno said as Zhongli directed them to the doorway, “friends always bring the best out of her.”
“You’re not wrong,” Tighnari nodded, exiting the parlor, “you know Cyno, I’m impressed with you. You haven’t told a stupid joke all this time.”
“Matters were too serious for that,” Cyno replied, “I couldn’t have the consultant think our request was a joke. If he did, he may not have helped us to the extent he did.”
“Well keep it up,” Tighnari instructed, “we have to make this yaksha want to help us after all.”
“You’re right,” Cyno agreed. “Anyway, let’s go find Collei.”
***
Zhongli watched carefully, waiting for the pair to be far enough from the parlor. Once he was certain that they wouldn’t see him leave the building, Zhongli quickly looked around to see if there were any bystanders. Assuring himself that the coast was clear, Zhongli teleported close to Wangshu Inn. He’d have to walk the rest, unless of course, Xiao sensed him and appeared first.
“Rex L-Zhongli,” Xiao’s voice sounded from behind him. The Yaksha was as swift as ever.
“It is good to see you, Xiao,” Zhongli smiled. The fondness he had for this boy was insurmountable. The last of Zhogli’s beloved Yakshas was near and dear to his heart.
“Was there something that you needed?” Xiao asked, his golden eyes piercing as ever.
“There will be a pair of Sumerians approaching you soon,” Zhongli answered, his gentle smile not leaving his face, “one of them is a vessel for part of Hermanubis’s power. The power, however, has shards of corruption. I will entrust a cleansing talisman with you to give them. I wish not for Hermanubis’s power to trouble this world.”
“I understand,” Xiao agreed, “mortals of this age remain ignorant on how to sense the corruption lingering beneath the powers they have. It would not be wise to leave corrupted power in a nation like Sumeru. Despite all their braggarts’ claims to be knowledgeable about the world, they do not know a thing about the evil that lies dormant beneath their sand.”
“Indeed,” Zhongli sighed. Sumeru’s archon had it particularly rough. Not that Xiao would know this. He, just like the rest of this world’s inhabitants, is subject to the changes in Irmisul. Hence, Xiao would not be aware that Buer was only 500 years old. Loss of memory and power is the explanation that Irminsul concocted to explain away the erasure of Rukkhadevata. It was unfair to the poor child, as Zhongli knew that she often lamented her “memory loss” and how it made her feel useless for not recalling. Though he’d yet to meet Rukkhadevata’s successor, he hadn't had to in order to know. Stone can still hear, even whilst covered in verdure.
Gearing himself back on track, Zhongli began creating the talisman that Cyno would need. It was a rather simple one, though the power of the prime adeptus would certainly make it a powerful one. Zhongli’s amber eyes burned as he cast the spell. Glimmering gold light formed as he chanted, taking the shape of talisman. When he finished, Zhongli handed it to Xiao.
“I will give it to the mortal as instructed,” Xiao nodded, turning to leave.
“There is no need to leave so soon,” Zhongli held up a hand, beckoning for Xiao to stay. “I have yet to check on the condition of your karma, nor have I had the time to enquire about the events of your days.”
“There is no need, my lord,” Xiao tried to escape the attention. Still, Zhongli was happy to note that Xiao was less flustered than the last few times he had been invited. It was progress.
“On the contrary,” Zhongli shook his head. “Come Xiao, there is much that I wish to hear.”
Hesitantly, Xiao followed. Along the river near the inn were many wooden docks. Zhongli sat down by one, motioning for Xiao to join him. Xiao sat down, uneasiness still obvious in his posture.
“Your condition is doing much better,” Zhongli noted after examining Xiao, pleased, “I hope the medication I’ve provided has been doing you well.”
“It soothes the pain,” Xiao admitted, “but you needn’t go that far, my Lord. This karma is the consequence for my slaughter.”
“Then do I deserve endless pain, Xiao?” Zhongli posed the question gently, not wanting to startle Xiao too much. “After all, I have slaughtered far more gods and beings than you ever have. Do I deserve endless suffering?”
“Heaven forbid!” The mere suggestion completely frazzled Xiao. He didn't seem to notice the parallel Zhongli was trying to paint.
“Then the same goes for you,” Zhongli said firmly. “You do not deserve the pain you have, my dear yaksha, and I will continue to search for a way to further cure it. Last time I spoke with Barbatos, he said he was looking into it as well. You ought to seek him out further, Xiao. You know his music soothes you. He would gladly play for you if you asked.”
Xiao didn’t respond, but Zhongli hadn’t expected him to. Xiao had lived set in his ways for centuries. It would take more than a few conversations to persuade him to look out for himself.
“I wouldn’t wish to bother him,” Xiao turned his head away, not meeting Zhongli’s eyes, “he has his own nation to care for. He is not obligated to assist me.”
“But he would,” Zhongli reminds Xiao, “and he wants to. He watches over you with the wind. We both know this.”
“His music is…” Xiao trailed off, but Zhongli knew what his yaksha meant. Venti’s songs, cultivated with the healing power of time and wind, could soothe even the most temperamental of god’s remains. It was not just the ancient power behind the music that affected Xiao this much, though; it was the kindness of the player that made the music so impactful.
“Then let him help,” Zhongli said gently. Xiao needed this push.
“I’ll send him a message in the wind,” Xiao finally relented. It was hard for him to deny the wishes of his lord.
“I’m glad to hear,” Zhongli stood, preparing to leave. “I must be heading back to the parlor now. I doubt the director will be too pleased with my absence.”
“Wait,” Xiao suddenly recalled something. There was a reason he had appeared before Rex Lapis in the first place.
“Yes?” Zhongli stopped, surprised that Xiao was prolonging the encounter himself.
“There have been a lot of mortals at the Guili Plains recently,” Xiao informed Zhongli, “they’ve been digging around where the assembly used to be held. They are inching close to the domain in which the records of the assembly were stored. Shall I remove everything and return it to you before the mortals can get to them?”
“There is no need for that,” Zhongli shook his head, “this is a human age. If they find records of the past and learn their history, so be it. It is not fitting for us deities to interfere in the mortal realm like that.”
“Very well,” Xiao nodded, “I shall leave the mortals be.” With that, he teleported off. All in a day’s business.
***
“You wouldn’t believe this!” Hu Tao burst into the parlor, loud as ever, weeks later. Once more, desperate eyes turned to Zhongli to deal with the chaos that was their director.
“What is it that we wouldn’t believe?” Zhongli patiently asked her.
“The millileth found evidence of a love affair of Rex Lapis’s!” Hu Tao gleefully informed her consultant. “A team was searching the Guili Plains and found records dating to the time of the archon war. No one knows exactly what was found and what the records state, but it’s been whispered that Rex Lapis’s personal accountings were found amongst the papers. The only thing that the rumors say is that the records contain love poems written by the archon himself.”
Zhongli stiffened. When Xiao had told him that mortals were rustling through the assembly’s domain, he hadn’t thought anything of it. All that was supposed to be there was the written accords of the past’s assemblies. How had his records made it into that domain? His memory, old as he may be, did not recall leaving the records there at all.
Hu Tao was continuing to speak, babbling on about death, love, gods, and embarrassment in her usual bizarrely dismissive manner of humor. Zhongli couldn’t pay her any heed as he normally would: his mind distracted by the implications of his missing records.
“Mr. Zhongli,” Ferrylady’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “Ms. Xianyun is at the door. She says that there is something important she must speak with you about.”
“My apologies, director,” Zhongli turned to address Hu Tao, “I will have to hear your point on, ahem, godly baby carriages, some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Hu Tao grinned, though there was something sharp in her eyes. Zhongli sighed. This was just adding onto her list of things that made him an adpetus. Thankfully, she hadn’t gotten to a point where she believed he was Morax. He could handle being “discovered” as an adeptus; it would become quite complicated if she knew he was the geo archon himself. She would be even more unbearable in her teasing.
Cloud Retainer stood at the entrance to the parlor, her appearance still that of Xianyun. She seemed somewhat anxious, so Zhongli motioned towards a quiet corner beside the parlor’s message board for them to speak by.
“Is something the matter?” Zhongli got straight to the point. While he and Cloud Retainer had met up quite a few times since she moved to the harbor, it was out of nature for the adeptus to seek him during work hours.
“One has come to apologize,” Cloud Retainer stated, a slightly embarrassed look on her face, “One has heard of the rumors spreading across the harbor and believes that One may be responsible for it.”
Cloud Retainer's words pushed a memory to the forefront of his mind. He now recalled having handed all of his personal records and accounts to her, having been unwilling to keep them himself. He hadn’t wanted to face what he had written, so he had entrusted them to Cloud Retainer.
“One placed the records you gave One amongst the others in the assembly’s domain,” Cloud Retainer informed him, though Zhongli had already reached that unfortunate conclusion. “One was not aware that they were, ahem, more private in nature. One simply thought you wished for one to place them with the others.”
“There is no need to apologize,” Zhongli sighed. She was right. He hadn’t been specific enough back then. His, then, brutish straightforwardness had come to bite him now. “I was careless with my words in the days gone past. It would not be fair to blame anyone for what has happened.”
“If One may ask,” Cloud Retainer coughed, “does the content of those records truly contain poetry that you wrote for a lover? One was not aware that you had ever had one.”
Zhongli choked. He had not expected to ever discuss this with anyone, let alone the oldest of his friends. He had never once voiced the yearning in his heart. Was every old friend of his going to show up and inquire about this? Zhongli’s face suddenly paled. Barbatos was going to be unbearable.
“I never had a lover,” Zhongli replied to Cloud Retainer, though he was certain that she could sense how flustered he was. “My,” Zhongli hesitated, before continuing, “love was one-sided. I never told her nor any other soul. There were a few poems written in those scrolls, but I more often wrote my thoughts in them. In fact, I’d say those scrolls were something akin to what we would call a diary now.”
“One understands,” Cloud Retainer’s eyes softened. “Might One ask who the one who had captured your heart was?” Rex Lapis had had many allies amongst his forces and was particularly close with many of the elder adepti. It could be anyone.
Zhongli hesitated. It was somewhat embarrassing to admit aloud. He had never once considered telling anyone of this particular secret. He had thought he would take it to the grave. However, if the records were published, which in all likelihood they would be, Cloud Retainer and the others would find out anyhow. Perhaps telling them himself could make up for having kept it secret for so long.
“Guizhong,” Zhongli confessed, avoiding eye contact.
“One suspected as much,” Cloud Retainer said softly.
“Ping probably suspected as well,” Zhongli admits, “though she never confronted me. I always thought that was why she has kept her distance from me for the most part.”
“Shall One ask Ganyu to seize the records?” Cloud Retainer offered, “There is fair reasoning for an adeptus to ask for them back.”
“This is a human age,” Zhongli declined, “no matter my discomfort with it, it is only right that the people of Liyue be allowed to make discoveries about their archon. To them, he is deceased. It is only natural that they seek answers about his past. I will not deprive them of that right, even if I would have preferred the information remain hidden. To be human is to be curious and to discover. So long as it is not dangerous, it is not right for a god to interfere with that.”
“Very well,” Cloud Retainer nods, “is this matter one that One should keep secret? One has no doubt that the others will come seeking answers.”
“You may answer truthfully,” Zhongli replied, “the information is going to go out at some point. How they’ll find out doesn’t concern me.”
“Then I will leave you to your work,” Cloud Retainer bowed slightly. She turned to leave, before stopping in her tracks. She looked at him, eyes soft, “Know that One is willing to listen if you wish to tell.”
“I will take that into account, Cloud Retainer.” With that, the two friends parted ways. Zhongli sighed. He was most certainly in for it.
***
The records were put on display three weeks later. Hu Tao had chosen to drag him off to see the display. To the Qixing’s credit, the event that they organized was beautiful and swiftly done. They had arranged his personal records in an ostentatiously beautiful book alongside the other records found in the domain. The series was titled Chronicles of the Archon War: the official records of the Guili Assembly. Zhongli noticed that the book that had his account had the most detailed design and was the highlight of the promotion. They’d titled it From the Quill of Rex Lapis . Zhongli was glad that they’d left it as simple as that. Considering the content, there were more embarrassing titles to have picked from.
“Come on,” Hu Tao dragged him off, not allowing him to drag his feet. Truthfully, he had not wished to go. He didn’t want to face the weight of his past regrets, but Hu Tao wanted to go to the showing and had asked him to go with her. He had no real reason to refuse her, and it would be out of character for him not to. Hence, he had resigned himself to attending the event.
“There’s no need to drag me,” Zhongli sighed. Hu Tao let go, deciding to simply skip beside him.
“Yun Jin says she wants to write an opera about Rex Lapis and his rumored lover,” Hu Tao told him as she skipped, a playful grin on her face. “She couldn’t make it to this event because of a prior booking, so she asked me to pick her up a copy of the book.”
“Ms. Yun Jin will do an excellent job,” Zhongli said, “she has immense talent in the art of the opera. I would be quite pleased to see any opera she would write.” Except for this one was left unsaid. Zhongli didn’t normally mind engaging in art forms that were about himself. For better or for worse, he would see the praises and critiques his people had for him. Yun Jin would no doubt make a wonderful opera, but he would be unable to enjoy it. He could not enjoy the tale of his one sided love for someone who was long gone.
“She really is quite the talented lady,” Hu Tao agreed, still bouncing beside him. She looked around the event before her eyes lit up with excitement. “Over here, Tighnari!”
Heaving a sigh, Tighnari walked towards them.
“It is good to see you again,” Zhongli greeted Tighnari, “may I ask how Cyno is doing? I do hope the talisman was able to help.”
“Cyno is doing much better,” Tighnari informed them, “the talisman that the yaksha gave worked wonders on him. We showed it to Nahida -I mean Lord Kusanali- and she was very impressed. When she heard the whole story, she was very impressed with you. She said that if you ever came to Sumeru, she’d be pleased to meet you.”
“Aiya,” Hu Tao shook her head with a grin, “I can’t have your archon stealing my consultant here. It looks like that rules out any Sumeru vacations for you, Zhongli.”
“I am honored by such praise from Sumeru’s goddess of wisdom,” Zhongli chuckled, "though there is no need for you to worry, Director. You and I have a contract; there is nothing that could make me break that. Liyue is my home, forever and always.”
“You and your contracts,” Hu Tao grumbled, though Zhongli could see the relief in her eyes. He knew that she had panicked at the thought of him leaving, no matter how nonsensical she knew the notion was.
“Indeed.” Zhongli turned his attention back to Tighnari, “What brings you back to Liyue, Tighnari? Have you decided to acquaint yourself with our rich history? The history of Liyue is long and complex, spanning over two millenia. Liyue Harbor is only one of many different-”
“I came to collaborate with a man named Baizu,” Tighnari explained, “he sent me a letter asking about certain herbs.”
“Ugh,” Hu Tao groaned, “don’t talk to me about that guy. Him and that zombie of his have no respect for death.”
“Okay then?” Tighnari said, confusion evident on his face. “Anyways, while I was walking, I heard people talking about Rex Lapis’s personal records being published for the first time. I figured I’d stop by and pick up a copy to give to a friend. He has a deep appreciation for books and is an avid collector and reader. He’s been lending Collei a few books to help with her studies, so I thought the books would make a nice gift.”
“Your friend sounds like someone Zhongli here would get along with,” Hu Tao said, tapping Zhongli’s shoulder.
“He probably would,” Tighnari agreed, “though he doesn’t particularly enjoy socializing.”
Suddenly, Zhongli stiffened. He felt the wind picking up, its silent whispers growing louder. This was bad. Barbatos can’t have made it here already; could he have?
“Venti!” Hu Tao’s face lit up at the sight of her friend. Venti walked over to them with, much to Zhongli’s horror, a copy of From the Quill of Rex Lapis . Worst of all, the book was open and Venti was smirking.
“I’ll be at that table if you need me,” Zhonglii quickly told Hu Tao, not wanting to give Venti an opening. He was going to avoid his old friend for as long as possible.
“Hey there, Zhongli,” Venti called, that horrible smirk on his face. That little punk knew that Zhongli was trying to run off and made it impossible for him to escape.
“Hello there, friend,” Zhongli grit out, his face unchanging.
“I should have known that I’d be seeing the erudite Zhongli here,” Venti grinned, walking over, “and it is wonderful to see you too, Hu Tao.” Tighnari, having seen the opportunity, slipped away.
“What’s a bard like you doing here in Liyue?” Hu Tao asked, her mischievous, mischievous smile ever present.
“I heard that the Geo Archon’s poetry was found,” Venti answered, his eyes directly meeting Zhongli’s, “as a bard, I’m always looking for more inspiration.”
“If it’s inspiration you’re looking for,” Hu Tao giggled, “it’s inspiration you’ll get.” She grabbed the book from Venti’s hands, flipped the pages, and cleared her throat.
Zhongli could only watch as the dreaded moment came. Hu Tao read his poetry.
“ Hearts pulse, beat by beat
Warriors leave, fleet by fleet
Patterns repeat, day by day
From their stable rhythm, they rarely stray
Then why is my heart, solid as stone
Longing for you to be draped in shimmering gold
Gold, the blood that thrums through my veins
Is more fitting for you, true ruler of these plains
You love those mortals, small and weak
Unable to ignore their desperate pleas
I watch you from afar, yet still very close
Because you are to me, what matters the most
Perhaps one day, when the blood finally dries
There will be a place, for my love to thrive
I will stand guard, forever strong
Until that time comes, my beloved Guizhong ”
Zhongli flushed red. He had never thought that these words would ever be read aloud. He’d written this poem in the middle of the Archon war, mere weeks before Guizhong had perished.
“Not bad,” Venti admitted, “a little juvenile, but it still keeps within structure. Not what I expected from something written by the infamous “Warrior God” during the Archon war.”
At least he’s not trashing it , Zhongli thought to himself. He knew that Venti was going to try and pull him aside and ask him too many questions, questions he doesn't want to answer.
“Ooh, this looks interesting,” Hu Tao flipped the pages. She cleared her throat before reading more.
“ Today wasn’t a pleasant day
Two yakshas gone
I couldn’t cry, couldn’t shed a tear
I had to endure the fight alone
The battlefield, without me would run amok
Yet you cried, your gentle eyes filled with tears
Our friends always say that my face is as unyielding as rock
How I envied you for that cry, how I envied your tears
Those who can see past are you alone
You ever so easily see what others’ eyes blink past
Often though I wish that you had never had seen
You deserve only goodness in your fate, nothing more nothing less
My infinite pain is not worth it, go back.”
“Not as well-structured as the first one,” Venti mused, “though this one comes more from the heart. The fact that it lacks the structure of the first, along with the increased expression of his personal feeling, shows that it was a more honest poem. The first must have been intended to be given, while the second was likely meant to remain private.”
“I liked it,” Hu Tao shrugged, turning to the next one, “Zhongli, what do you-” Hu Tao looked around, realizing her consultant had left. “Where’d he go?”
***
Back at the parlor, Zhongli held the copy of his old diary tightly. He had long pushed aside any memory of these writings, not wanting to confront his wounded heart. However, it had been millennia ago that he had written these. Perhaps, in his old age, he would be able to revisit that which he had written.
He felt slightly bad for leaving Hu Tao, but he couldn’t bear to be there any longer. Seeing that child read the content of his heart so simply…it pained him. He knew that she understood death well, that she had easily thrown away the baggage that the deceased burden the living with. He still hadn’t. More precisely, he hadn’t finished. Now, in the age of humans, it was time to bury Guizhong. It was fitting in a hauntingly ironic way. He -the one who could never understand why she loved mortals- could only give up his love for her in their age.
He opened the book, running a finger down its smooth pages. The black ink stared at him, beckoning him to recall their meaning. He sighed and began to read.
My beloved Guizhong, he’d written. It was how he had begun most of his entries in that “diary”. I often think of dreams. Rukkhadevata, the deity of the rainforest, weaves dreams of light and joy. For her beloved people, she builds the temples of life, infusing them with her divine power. In an age of war like now, she is startlingly kind. I find her to be much like you. When we met, only three days ago, I could only think of you. You’d like her a lot. She is as forgiving as you and just as kind and wonderfully benevolent. Yet, the light of her temples, the symbol of her divine might, could not outshine the shimmer in your eyes. When you talk of machinery and mechanics, there is no light on this world that can compare. The power of life, of budding fauna, cannot compare to the soothing consistency of your dust.
Anyhow, I asked her about the security of the leylines and told her of your theories. I told her of how you located the leakage, how you brilliantly held the tear together for months, and how your brilliant inventions managed to hold off the monsters. Strangely enough, all while I spoke, Rukkhadevata was giggling. When I finished explaining the situation, she grinned and told me that I reminded her of Deshret. I wasn’t particularly surprised, as she is not the first to make the comparison. All know that the Scarlet King was Celestia’s initial choice for Dendro archon. Just like our assembly, Deshret has his own civilization. We have similar motifs as well. When I said as much to Rukkhadevata, she said that that’s not what she meant. She said that the way I spoke of you was similar to how Deshret speaks of Nabu Malikata.
It was rather embarrassing. All are aware that Deshret and Nabu Malikata are lovers. You are not mine. As I left for our beloved land, I felt that if Rukkhadevata were to have put me in a dream, all I would have seen was you. Yet, as always, I will keep this locked in my head, the only place you cannot reach. You mustn’t be dragged any further into the leaking darkness that comprises me.
Zhongli sighed as he read. He remembered this all too well. Absently, he noted that to the rest of the world, this book must read Buer instead of Rukkhadevata. She had been a wise woman; Guizhong truly would have loved to meet her.
The diary held power over Zhongli. It lured him in, begging him to get lost in memories of a person so far gone. He had resisted the call for millennia and had pushed all thoughts of regret aside. He never truly grieved her then; his nation had needed him. Afterwards, he never grieved her either. He hadn’t wanted to reopen the wound. Instead, he used his work as a bandage, slapping a distraction on his feelings. Now, reading the words he’d once written so earnestly for her, he ripped off that bandage, that shield. There was no way he could ignore the pain any longer.
My beloved Guizhong, the next entry read, Retainer and I went to battle yesterday. She brought a disciple with her -a half-quilin adeptus called Ganyu. She was well-trained, her skills befitting a disciple of the brilliant Retainer of Clouds. I was impressed with her precise aim, as she wielded the bow marvelously. I mostly kept out of their way, sending large attacks from above. A minor deity of reeds was trying to overrun the frontline with monsters. Retainer and Ganyu cleared out the army of monsters whilst I defeated the deity. He wasn’t particularly powerful, and I made short work of ending and sealing him.
It was an odd feeling, watching Retainer dote on her pupil. She cared for the girl immensely as was evident by the lecture I heard her give the child. Ganyu had gotten injured by one of the creatures, and Retainer gave her an earful about recklessness. Still, I felt Ganyu had done exceptionally well. She is indeed a warrior worthy of praise, yet I do not fault Retainer for having been nervous for the child’s well-being. Having a disciple has done Retainer some good. I feel that she fits the role of mentor well.
Watching the two of them made me think. Perhaps I should take in a disciple as well. Streetward Rambler and Mountain Shaper would likely laugh at me should I voice that aloud. I, Rex lapis, Deus Ari, should take in a child? I, the stone-faced, unyieldingly stern Prime Adeptus, should mentor a young one? It is a somewhat ludicrous thought, yet one that continues to persist. Perhaps, when this is all over and the throne in the heavens is secured, you and I could discuss this. Any disciple of mine would have to have your approval. Besides, I would need your advice all along. I can’t do much without you.
As he read, Zhongli wondered how Ganyu and Cloud Retainer would react to his portrayal of them. He felt somewhat guilty that his opinions on them were being so blatantly exposed to the world. Thankfully, all opinions he’d read so far had been positive. Besides, most people he had once had grievances with are dead.
My dearest Guizhong, Zhongli continued to read, Something is bothering Azdaha. I noticed it recently. He’s been rather upset during battle and often goes slightly out of control. I worry about how erratic his behavior is becoming. It’s all started since we battled that deity who could control shadows. I fear that the lack of light is reminding him of his days trapped beneath the chasm. If it were you here at this distant battlefield, you’d certainly know how to soothe him. If not soothe him, you’d at least be able to distract him.
He is a dear friend, one that I would hate to have to seal. I wish I could seek your advice on the matter, but you are behind by the plains. For now, I have tried soothing meditations and have left more light-bringing talismans out at night. I had the soldiers release lanterns, hoping that the light would be a balm for his wearied spirit. I thought of speaking with him, but alas, I am not soft-spoken nor comforting. I wouldn’t know how to speak about this issue. I'm no mindless brute, yet in this age, I fear I have forgotten how to bring comfort to another. It is something that you have not lost. I admire you greatly for it.
Azdaha. Zhongli recalled his last encounter with his old friend. The Traveler had joined him then, watching as he laid the spirit of his old friend to rest. Not only had he had to seal Azdaha, he’d also had to fight him once more. Indeed, he hadn’t been able to soothe him. Zhongli felt that pain deep in his heart until this day. Erosion was a cruel, cruel fate.
My dearest Guizhong, Zhongli read further, turning to a new entry. It has certainly been a long day. I, to my own shock, committed an act of clemency. When we attacked that god of dreams, I found his bloodhound there. Usually, I would have disposed of him instantly, as it is well-known that he devours dreams and commits atrocities in the name of his cruel master. Yet, when I raised my blade, all I could see was pain echoing in his golden eyes. Truly, his eyes are of a stunning color and depth. When I asked the boy why he served his master, why he attacks innocents, he simply pointed at his arm. I was only more disgusted with the god I had slayed.
He’d taken the poor boy’s weakness: his name. He’d been forced, coerced, and manhandled into serving as a bloodhound. The cruel being had truly made the boy suffer unbearably. Perhaps it was a foolish move, one that Mountain Shaper will no doubt chastise me for, but I freed the boy. In the fables of another land, the name Xiao is that of a spirit who encountered great suffering and hardship. He endured much suffering, just as the boy had. I told the boy to take that name and use it to become a new being. He will now serve under me.
While some of the others will be upset, I feel that you, and perhaps Moon Carver as well, would not be displeased with me. You are always gracious to everyone. You were willing to offer me an alliance despite my bloodthirsty reputation. You will certainly approve.
Xiao. That young child. How Zhongli wished that he could cure the boy of his karma. Still, with thanks to the Traveler, things have been getting better. Through the Traveler, Xiao had made friends. Zhongli noticed that Xiao spoke with Yanfei on a somewhat regular basis, as well as having dined with Yelan by Lantern Rite. Xiao had, hopefully, reached out to Barbatos.
“Mr. Zhongli,” a voice disturbed his musings, “Madam Ping is here to see you.”
Zhongli pursed his lips. This encounter was bound to happen at some point. Ping and Guizhong…they were the closest of friends. Still, he stood, heading to meet her. There was no pushing it off.
“It is good to see you, old friend,” Zhongli greeted Ping, “come inside. I’ll go get us a pot of tea.”
“That sounds nice,” the elderly woman responded, her wrinkled face placing her gentleness on full display.
Zhongli busied himself with the tea, hoping to prolong the time until he must speak with Ping.
“I’ve read the book,” Ping said eventually. “It was very revealing.”
“It was essentially my diary,” Zhongli sighed, setting down the tea before the two of them. “It makes sense that it was revealing. In those dark times, there was no room for me to grieve or speak freely. We went from battlefield to battlefield. As both you and I know intimately well, our beloved Liyue was the nation that was most affected by the Archon war. It was we who were plunged into the deepest strife. After all, as a land fill-”
“You’re deflecting,” Ping interrupted gently. Then to his surprise, she addressed him by name. “Rex Lapis, there is no need to avoid discussing the matter with me. I’m not angry, nor am I disappointed or disgusted.”
“I never thought you were,” Zhongli shook his head, “my sincerest apologies if I made you feel that way. I just know that this is a sore subject for you. I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable, nor did I wish to make you feel obligated to discuss these things with me.”
“And I had felt the same way,” Ping laughed softly. She paused for a moment, allowing a peaceful silence to fill the room. “Perhaps that’s the issue here. Had either of us simply spoken plainly to each other, we wouldn’t have spent centuries on edge in fear of triggering the other.”
“I had always thought you knew,” Zhongli confessed, speaking plainly and vulnerably to one of his oldest friends. “I thought you avoided me for that reason.”
“I had to deal with my grief in my own way,” Ping mused, her eyes misty, “Guizhong was, and still is, everything. She was my best friend. She made me see the world from so many different and wonderful perspectives."
“She brought out the best in everyone, didn’t she?” Zhongli added his own input.
“That she did,” Ping agreed. “I never held your love for her against you, Rex Lapis. I thought it was tragic, if we’re being quite honest.”
“Becuase we both know she didn’t love me,” Zhongli said resignedly, before quickly adding, “at least not the way I loved her.”
“Indeed,” Ping looked at him with pained, sympathetic eyes. “She didn’t love anyone like that. I don’t think that she could have.”
“She wanted to love everyone equally,” Zhongli reminisced, “and she wanted to build her machines. She was never happier than when she got to spend time with friends and build mechanisms. I don’t think she would have ever wanted to commit.”
“That didn’t make your feelings change, though, did it?” Ping glanced at him all-knowingly.
“Never,” Zhongli shook his head, “they never changed.”
“Even all these years later?” Ping probed.
“And perhaps even further,” Zhongli answered. “Though I had never expected these feelings of mine to become public knowledge, especially to the people of Liyue, I believe this to be a good thing. It is man’s era now. It is time for me to polish off the regrets I have. Instead of being something painful, it is time for me to make them shine like the gold in my veins.”
Ping paused, looking Zhongli in the eye. To outsiders, they might seem like a good-hearted gentleman entertaining an elderly lady. To them, they were old allies and friends settling feelings from an age far beyond the depths of mortal perception.
“I hear that Yun Jin will be turning the stories of the Guili Plains into an opera,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “Would you accompany this old lady?”
Zhongli hesitated. He hadn’t wanted to go. He hadn’t wanted to watch his feelings pan out. He hadn’t wanted to watch a reimagining of his vulnerabilities. Yet, perhaps, it could be good for him.
“If this old lady would have me,” Zhongli said, slightly teasingly, “it would be my honor.”
Perhaps, this chapter of his life will finally meet its fitting closure. He knew that Venti was still going to confront him. Hu Tao was going to arm herself with this knowledge to try and get him to slip up. Xiao was going to look at him awkwardly for the next while, curious yet unwilling to dare ask. Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper will surely have their own opinions, as will the other adepti. In due time, all of that would happen. For now, Zhongli was content to simply wait for it.