Chapter Text
Zhongli walked slowly through Liyue Harbor. His thumb idly stroked the dragon’s head carving on his cane. It was truly a masterpiece, that cane, but it was getting worn down. He smiled a little. Even canes suffer from erosion, it appeared.
Children played in the streets, just as they always had. There were a lot of children, these days. The city was expanding. The end of the dangers posed by the Abyss had led to an expansion in many places.
Perhaps later in the week, he would walk out to the Guili Plains. The towns there were still small, but they were thriving. It was good to see people living there again. The walk would be a difficult one for him, but perhaps one more time, his aching knees could manage it.
His stride was slow, but even, and he reached the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor right on time, as always. A cheerful girl greeted him. “Good morning, Mr. Zhongli!”
“Good morning to you as well, Director Hu.”
“Do you want to come inside today, or work outside? It’s a lovely day.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? I think I will remain outside, if you please.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Zhongli! I’ll bring out my notes. There are some things I want to consult you about.”
He smiled. The ninety-fourth Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was a very polite girl.
His memory was starting to fail him. He could no longer keep up with current trends and practices. But his memory of ancient days, of traditions dating back before the Return, before the Cataclysm, even before the Archon War—these memories were still clear.
Director Hu—Hu Xing, yes, that was her name—knew his identity, of course. There were few people who did (few humans, at least), but the Directors of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor had always known. It was a secret passed down from the seventy-seventh director, in the days of the Return. She had told him, as she lay dying, that the secret was to be passed down so that her descendants would always know to trust his word. He suspected it was also to make sure he would be taken care of.
Whatever the case, it was kindly meant, and he was grateful. Perhaps he would have still had enough power left to create mora for his own income, but this was better. It ensured him a degree of comfort in this, his old age.
Hu Xing returned with her questions. They were simple questions, and he suspected she already knew the answers. She was young, still new to the role as director, but she was already knowledgeable. He answered patiently, just the same. It was good of her to pretend that he was needed.
“Oh, I was wondering, our stock of Violetgrass is getting low,” she told him, when her questions were answered. “Would you be able to go to Bubu Pharmacy to pick some up? Just a pound should do for now.”
“Yes, I can do that,” he answered, smiling again. It was a simple errand, one that a younger person could have managed in less than an hour. He would not return until after lunchtime. But it was good of her to ask him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He walked through Feiyun Slope slowly. Lantern Rite was approaching, and the street was busier than usual. Tourists from the outlying villages would soon descend on the city to see the Rite. He would watch too, from a distance. He appreciated the Qixing’s efforts to keep the Rite changing with the times, but some of the newer innovations were too noisy for his taste. From a distance, he could see the things that had not changed. The paper lanterns, the fireworks. Old traditions, never outdated.
Bubu Pharmacy was crowded today, so he took a seat outside, in the sun. There was no hurry. There had not been hurry for a long time.
He closed his eyes and let the sun bathe his face. It really was a beautiful day, much warmer than usual at this time of year. Once, he had not minded the winter, but these days, the cold seemed to do an excellent job of exposing his aches and pains.
A childish hand took his. “Mr. Zhongli?”
He looked down at the child. “Ah, Qiqi. Good morning.”
She beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Zhongli. Do you want to see Qiqi’s coconut tree?”
“Yes, I would like that.”
He watched the girl’s movements as she led him behind the pharmacy. The new treatments had done wonders, both for her stiffness and for her memory and understanding. She would never be ‘normal’, but she was no longer the girl who had asked him for a “cocogoat” on their first meeting.
The tree, planted behind the pharmacy, was doing well. “It is taller than Qiqi now,” she told him proudly, patting the leaves.
“So it is. Soon you’ll be able to make your own coconut milk.”
She smiled. (The Qiqi of long ago had never been able to smile.) “That will make Qiqi very happy. But Dr. Mahuang says it won’t make coconuts for a long time.”
“But I’m sure it will make excellent cocomilk when it does.”
She nodded. “Qiqi will make cocomilk for Mr. Zhongli.”
He smiled, but said nothing.
“Does Mr. Zhongli want to see Changsheng?”
“Yes, that would be good, Qiqi.”
“Changsheng is lying in the sun. Qiqi likes lying in the sun, too. Does Mr. Zhongli like lying in the sun?”
Yes, she was still a child, still the innocent girl she had always been and would always be.
“I prefer to sit, but I will gladly join you.” If he tried lying on the stones, he wasn’t sure he would ever get up again.
“Ah, Mr. Zhongli,” Changsheng greeted him. He could still hear the irony in her voice every time she used his name. “Are you going to join usss in the sssun?”
“Yes, Qiqi asked me to come and join you.”
He sat there for a while, watching the people come and go. He knew so few of them, these days, but it was hard to form new relationships. Instead, he grew closer to those few individuals—like Changsheng and Qiqi—who had known him for a long time. In Changsheng’s case, since long before he became the consultant Zhongli.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Qiqi got up to do her calisthenics, Changsheng slithered over to him. “Don’t you need to help her?” he asked.
“She has gotten much better at remembering,” Changsheng answered.
“She still needs you, though.”
“Yesss,” Changsheng admitted. “That isss why she is a part of the contract. But I will not leave her, and she will look after me once Dr. Mahuang passes.”
He stroked the snake gently as she lay on his lap. Time was, she would have resented the touch, but all things change. All things erode. Sometimes, they erode into something better.
“You are lonely, old friend,” he accused her.
“Yesss,” Changsheng admitted. “At times. But ssso are you.”
“Yes. At times.”
She sighed—if a snake could be said to sigh. “Rex Lapisss will sssoon be forgotten, I fear.”
“Do you? I do not.”
“No one speaksss of those days anymore, except maybe as a legend.”
“I know. All things come to an end.”
“Ssso many of usss have been forgotten.”
“Yes,” he admitted. It was just two years ago that the Guizhong Ballista had been dismantled, no longer needed in this age of peace. That had troubled him, more than he had thought anything could these days. But he had made peace with it, now, as he had with the earthquake, some fifty years ago already, that had buried Pervases’ already mostly ruined temple.
“Do you think that you will escape being forgotten, then?”
“No. I do not fear Rex Lapis being forgotten, because it is only right for the people to move on. This human age is prosperous. The time of the Seven is over. Why should I fear that?”
She curled against his side. “You are ssstill wise,” she admitted.
He chuckled. “Now there is something I would never have thought to hear.”
She lay against him. “Perhapsss I am growing old, as well.”
He smiled. “So must we all, in the end.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He returned to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in the afternoon, Violetgrass in hand. “Thanks, Mr. Zhongli!” Hu Xing told him. “I—uh—I think that’s all I have for you today. There is a new client coming in, and…”
“Do not worry, Director Hu. I have been asked to consult at Liuli Pavilion regarding their preparations for Lantern Rite.”
“Oh, awesome. See you tomorrow, Mr. Zhongli.”
He smiled fondly as she darted back inside. Such an energetic young girl. She would do the funeral parlor proud.
The consultation at Liuli Pavilion was bittersweet. The head of the pavilion was a wonderful man, intent on capturing the authentic traditions of Li cuisine. He listened attentively to everything Zhongli had to say.
But it would not quite be the same, not quite traditional. The bamboo cultivar of ages past had been replaced by a newer cultivar, quicker-growing and more tender in its shoots. But it didn’t quite taste the way the old one did. Qingxin had gone extinct (or so it was said, though Zhongli knew that a few rare specimens still existed, high in the mountains of Jueyun Karst). The replacement herbs did their best, but he could still taste the difference.
Yes, everything changed. Everything eroded. And eventually, the world moved on.
He knew he was dying. No doctor had told him, but he knew. He could feel the erosion taking hold deep within him. He didn’t speak of it to anyone, and no one spoke of it to him. Perhaps they were afraid. Perhaps they simply didn’t want to believe that it was possible. But it would happen soon.
But Rex Lapis had died long ago, shortly before the Return. Zhongli had lived four hundred years since then. He enjoyed life in Liyue Harbor, but all things must come to an end. The world must move on. Yes, all was as it should be.