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In the weeks preceding the Lantern Rite, Liyue slowly morphs into a red land. It starts in the heart of the Harbour and bleeds gently outwards until it touches every blade of grass– from barren Lisha to mountainous Minlin to the far flung edges of Bishui Plain where Mondstadt’s wind kisses the rugged walls of Stone Gate.
Xiao walks the forgotten ruins past Qingxu Pool and finds red ribbons and red paper lanterns. He treks through Dihua Marsh and finds lucky knots looped around wooden posts by the dozens. He slips through the densest, loneliest corners of Qingce’s bamboo forests and manages to find spring couplets only slightly smeared by rain and morning dew.
He can smell the change in the wind. Spring carries a fresh sweetness with it. Xiao fights and hunts and vanquishes and abruptly awakes to cinnabar blooming across Liyue. There comes a tipping point where all of Liyue is saturated with plum-blossom-red and can bleed no longer. Then, Xiao will hear the groaning weight of thick bamboo strips rising and twisting and papered over to form the shape of the year’s Mingxiao Lantern. He will hear the shuffling of sheaves of paper and the clinking of newly polished coins. He will hear the stones paving the long winding paths teeter and cramp as the sons and daughters of Liyue make their way home.
On the eve of Lantern Rite, morning dawns on Liyue like ink spilled in water. It begins as a blot on the horizon; a thick and concentrated rippling mass of light. Xiao watches the sandy shores of Yaoguang shoal turn into gilded amber. The emerald eaves of Wangshu Inn’s roof transform into glittering jade.
On the eve of Lantern Rite, Xiao watches Liyue.
There are a great many human festivals, and few remember the stories behind them.
The greater part of these days coincide with occasions where man-eating monsters were defeated by the adepti host. People imitated their deeds and staged exorcism rituals to remember their ancient heroism, with these practices eventually evolving into celebratory festivals.
The hatred and residual might of many of the gods defeated by Rex Lapis throughout Liyue will sometimes erupt with abnormal force amid their half-awake, half-dreaming state. Among them, the eruption that takes place during Lantern Rite is the most extreme in scale.
Thus is Xiao’s purpose. He takes up arms and hunts down the eruptions, then eliminates them.
So Xiao hefts his polearm and scours Liyue for threats. He begins from the desolate Guyun Stone Forest. Hidden in the shadows of the tall jagged spires are swirling miasma of wicked intent– foul odour oozes from the crevices of the ancient rock pillars and from hence emerge great slouching monsters wielding crude clubs and bats. Xiao watches the pinpricks of beasts from his perch on the tip of Guyun’s tallest mountain. When he arcs off the ridge and plunges down, he can feel the wind whistle quickly past the jut of his spine, close as skin to bone. He is the wind. He is the quick point of a spear. He crashes down fluidly and punches his polearm easily into the tough muscle of a mitachurl, tearing wave after wave of abominations apart.
Not even a drop of blood remains to mark the battle. Guyun is clean, and will become unclean soon enough. Xiao is to Liyue as a broom is to a house. He rids the land of filth. Today, when the Alcor docks and unloads its bounty of precious foreign cargo, Guyun will be quiet and restful. The shrubbery will be untrampled and fresh with raindew. The ground will bear no rumblings of corruption and no more weapons will be unsheathed.
Xiao feels his hidden feathers pulse. They rustle beneath the skin of his back, fighting to break loose. He is shrouded in bushes and foliage as he takes brief respite in a small fissure overlooking the devastating seaspray battering Guyun’s rocky barrier. Ticker fish leap from the ocean waves by the dozens. Hm. Grilled Ticker Fish. A small ache tugs at his chest and Xiao knows that it is for Pervases, who is one of the many forgotten fallen yaksha honoured today.
Xiao unfurls his golden wings and leaps into the skies. As he skims the wispy sea of clouds to depredated Qiongji Estuary, he sees in the corner of his eye a copper-gilded crane diving for fish amidst the tides.
There is no wrong in grieving, but there is no purpose to clinging to the dead. Xiao has examined and reexamined himself countless times to discard the uncomfortable weight of sadness. When he thinks that he has been freed from the shackles of despair, sorrow surges from nothingness and pierces him at the core. Once it was a great sting, like a dilapidating strike, but over the years he has tempered and forged the pain into a small welcome needleprick.
After all, is that not what Lantern Rite is for? It is a festival of remembrance for the dead and their sacrifice. There is no more appropriate time for Xiao to mull over the memory of his brothers and sisters than on Lantern Rite. Xiao lands in the ruins of Guizhong Assembly and pours all of the great stings and tiny needlepricks into the tip of his polearm. Fighting is rote and effortless. Monsters vanish beneath the edge of his weapon. It could almost be meditative.
In Dihua Marsh, the Millelith have already cleared out most of the abyssal taint. Xiao has fought both more and less in the recent years– more in intensity and less in frequency. When the Yuheng of Liyue visited Yiyan Temple and prayed to every adeptus she could name, Xiao heard her earnest proclamation for mortals to grip the reins of Liyue’s responsibility from the adepti’s careful hands. She had meant it as a promise of independence and a challenge to the immortals of Liyue to watch– We can do it on our own. We do not need you. Beneath that pride also was– Take your rest. We will carry your burden.
Xiao had heard the uncharacteristic prayer and scoffed. How could weak and fragile mortals take on the immense weight of karmic debt? How many among them were strong enough to point arms at mindless beasts and slay them with efficiency and without remorse? Let them try and let them fail.
But when Xiao appeared at the site of a severe eruption in Sal Terrae, the Millelith were already in the midst of setting up camp. They had devised tactics and deployed troops and charged into the Stygian Onslaught with no care, and returned victorious. There were whispers of commissioning the Traveller to provide reinforcement, but even that was short-lived.
Xiao had felt a flicker of irritation. This was his duty and his burden to bear. This was his atonement. But beneath his own pride was– Good. The people of Liyue are standing on their own two feet. There was an unmistakable shutter of relief that felt like taking a long draught of breath after nearly drowning.
By midday he can sense no more evil. Whatever else that spawns will be under the means and jurisdiction of the Millelith. Xiao sets down his spear and returns to Wangshu Inn feeling the least battered and exhausted of all his millenia alive. Normally, he would stalk around the forgotten corners of Liyue, but he can hear a guest waiting for him.
Yelan is standing at his balcony with a plate of Almond Tofu.
“Happy Lantern Rite, Adeptus Xiao.” she greets. Xiao takes the plate warily. “The Tianquan has a message for you.”
“Yelan,” he notes. “The adepti are not next-door neighbours to be dropped in upon.”
She shrugs easily. “She also wishes you a Happy Lantern Rite, and hopes that you may find relaxation and peace for the coming holiday season.”
Xiao finds within himself a thread of incredulity. The coming holiday season, as opposed to the rest of the year? And why did the Tianquan send Yelan to hunt him down for the sake of a paltry greeting?
“Personally,” Yelan hums. “I find this year's Mingxiao Lantern quite wonderful. I hope you will enjoy it.”
Yelan turns and goes. Xiao is always left perplexed after interacting with mortals. Speaking with Yelan reminds him of his embarrassing stint in the Chasm, which then leaves him recalling the interesting foreigners from Inazuma, which leaves him even more mystified. Unconsciously, he has shifted from working in complete isolation to occasionally collaborating with the Liyue Qixing to quell evil. He is familiar enough with Yelan that the Tianquan would send holiday greetings through her. When was the last time someone had done so?
At this hour, Liyue is a ball of tension. The whole country is waiting for nightfall. All the important cleaning and buying has been finished. The only thing left to do is to fret and fuss and slave over the stove. If you are not busy, you will make yourself busy.
So he makes himself busy. Xiao hears his name in the wind. There are people whispering about him on Mount Aocang. There is a very short list of beings who are familiar enough with him to discuss him so ardently that he hears his name over and over. A large portion of that list resides in Jueyun Karst.
It is Lantern Rite, and it is a time for reunions.
He arrives to a brewing argument. Cloud Retainer, Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver are seated around the stone table at the centre of her abode. He can see several additional chairs cramped around the small table, with Guizhong and Rex Lapis’ left deliberately empty.
“How can we have a gathering of adepti without inviting all of the adepti? This one won’t stand for it!”
“We ought not to trouble the Conqueror of Demons with something as menial as a gathering–”
“Mountain Shaper, if you are jealous that the Vigilant Yaksha visited me before you, you need only say it. There is no need to ruin a good plan.”
Xiao clears his throat. The conference of adepti jolt in alarm. “You called?”
“Ah, yes!” Cloud Retainer is in human form today. She peers at him through her glasses and bustles about with the teapot at the centre of the stone table. “Come, come, take a seat. Happy Lantern Rite, Conqueror of Demons.”
“We only wanted to invite you for a get-together,” Moon Carver says quickly. “Streetward Rambler and Rex Lapis will be visiting us soon. Are you interested in playing cards?”
“Of course, we didn’t mean to bother you.” Mountain Shaper is swirling his teacup with too much focus. “It is completely understandable to desire a quiet time alone…”
Xiao pauses and weighs the warm, delicate thrum in his chest. He approaches the table and slips onto an empty stool.
“I have not played cards in a long while,” he says. “I have no mortal possessions to bet with. Have the rules changed?”
Xiao has many fond memories of playing cards. Bonanus and Indarias would force everyone into a game as they rested between battles. It culminated in arguments and whining and Xiao never thought he would miss it until he didn’t have it. When mortals in ancient Chenyu Vale invented mahjong, he had watched them play from afar and imagined his siblings in their place at the table, fighting over accusations of cheating.
“Easily remediable problems!” Mountain Shaper crows. He slides over a small stack of mora that have dulled and blurred over the centuries that they’ve been using them. “Come, this one will teach you the newest playing style.”
“The first round will be a trial,” Moon Carver declares magnanimously.
Cloud Retainer turns her nose up, but holds her hand out to seize her cards. “We must finish this before Ganyu returns. She will nag if she sees that this one invested so much mora into a mere game.”
By the time Rex Lapis arrives with Streetward Rambler in tow, Xiao has already won a tidy sum. He has no use for the mora and even less desire for it, so he leaves it all at the table as he abandons the game to converse with his master.
“It is good that you are finding simple pleasures,” Rex Lapis smiles. His eyes are crinkled and gentle. “Was it an enjoyable experience?”
Xiao reaches out to find words. They are difficult to contain on his tongue, and even harder to profess in speech. “Yes. I liked the reunion. It was good to meet up with old friends.”
“I’m glad. Happy Lantern Rite, Xiao.”
Xiao is surprised to find himself sincere as he replies, “Happy Lantern Rite, Zhongli-xiansheng.”
“Ah, here–” Rex Lapis extracts a wrapped package from his breast pocket. “Hutao has prepared a gift for you.”
Xiao’s brows raise. The distinctive shape of a bundle of coins bulges out of a red envelope. “The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s Director?”
“She said that it is a symbol of appreciation for your hard work, and well-wishes for the coming year ahead.” Rex Lapis presses the hongbao into his hands. “She gave me one as well. Employers often do that.”
“But I am not employed by her?”
Rex Lapis shrugs helplessly. It is the most exasperated Xiao has ever seen him. “Hutao is difficult to reason with.”
What a time, that Rex Lapis’ greatest frustration is an overly excitable employer. Xiao is receiving mortal currency from a mortal. Xiao was playing cards with the rest of the surviving adepti. Xiao is celebrating– what a word– Lantern Rite.
Rex Lapis turns to survey the orange sky. There is something complex and content in his expression, but Xiao does not know what he is looking at. This high up the mountain, a thick curtain of clouds obscures the adeptal domain from the rest of the world. Xiao can only hear the Harbour filling with excited bustle.
“They will release the lanterns soon,” Rex Lapis notes. “I think you will enjoy this year’s Mingxiao Lantern.”
This is the second time today that someone has mentioned the Mingxiao Lantern to him. Xiao feels curiosity leaping in his veins. There is an uncharacteristic burn of eagerness.
Xiao excuses himself from the gathering to find a secluded rooftop. Everyone, including Ganyu and Shenhe, bid him a warm farewell. Streetward Rambler smiles conspiratorially as she presses a jug of cold wine into his hands when he leaves.
Night has already fallen when the traveller hauls himself upon the ridge of the jade roof. He smiles when he sees the jar of wine that Xiao has already opened and sits next to him without invitation. Over the few short years that Xiao has known the traveller, he has slipped unsuspectingly into the recesses of his heart, into somewhere warm and tender.
“Did you manage to see the Mingxiao Lantern from here?” Aether asks. Xiao did. The pleasant side effect of distancing himself from the harbour is the complete surprise of what the Lantern looks like. Every year he alights on a distant mountaintop or high-up roof and watches humanity’s ingenuity take flight.
This year's Mingxiao Lantern was Bosacius. He knows now why so many people mentioned it to him. Xiao watched a great flying serpent slither into the air, gold and violet streaking brilliantly amongst little pinpricks of lantern light. The moment Marshal Vritras broke through the dark horizon of Liyue Harbour, Xiao thought he was dreaming of his brother flying home. Mortals had managed to engineer life-like rippling scales onto oiled paper for a lantern. Where was Menogias to see this brilliance? Where was Guizhong to ramble and prattle about her humans’ cleverness?
“Yes,” Xiao says instead. Aether’s eyes glimmer with knowing. “It was beautiful.”
“I brought some Xiao lanterns. Have you thought about what to write on yours?”
Xiao has been thinking about what to write on his lantern for the entire day. As he fought in Guyun, in the ruins of the Guili Assembly, in the dark and lonely corners of Liyue, he was thinking of the words he wanted to send to the next life. There was a period of time where he felt nothing but a deep gratefulness that his comrades had died early so that they did not feel the treacherous weight of the karmic debt, and there were other times where he struggled so intensely with the miasma of agony that he simply wished to die too.
Xiao has only just noticed the shift of burden off his shoulders. There is space for him to find peace in a beautiful sunrise now. He can stop at temples and ruins and reminisce on faded memories without a tinge of bitterness threatening to swallow him into depression. For the first time in a long while he feels weightless and tentatively happy.
“Yes,” Xiao says. He takes the brush Aether offers him and writes. When he is done, Aether lights their lanterns and they release it together.
“Look!” Aether marvels, nudging Xiao's arm.
Xiao looks. He hears it before he sees it– fireworks. They paint red and gold and pink across the inky night sky; vivid splatters of colour like blooming flowers. In his centuries alive Xiao has witnessed the evolution of rudimentary sparks into these meticulous bursts of miniature suns. The deafening whistles spread into thunderclaps of noise as the fireworks erupt all across Liyue’s skyline.
“Mm,” Xiao nods. “There will be no evil tonight.”
“Because you vanquished them?” Aether puzzles. Xiao's heart squeezes with affection.
“No, because the noise drives them away. Whatever beast that spawns at this hour will cower in a dim cave and wait for dawn to pass.”
“Huh!” Aether says, alarmed. “Won't it be dangerous on the road tomorrow, then? Married couples have to visit the wife's family, right?”
Xiao smiles. “That's on the second day, yes. But they will have parades of drums and gongs, and loud firecrackers.”
Aether grins slyly. “Will you be out of a job tomorrow?”
“If only.” Xiao takes the jar of wine and pours a generous swill into his mouth. It burns pleasantly down his throat. “But less so than usual, yes. And of late, the mortals have been hunting and exorcising much of the rabble. Perhaps I will become obsolete one day.”
Aether's furrowing brow hides none of his disapproval at Xiao’s dismissive attitude about himself, but he makes a clear effort to lighten the mood.
“What will you do when you finally get your break?” he asks instead.
Xiao looks at the jar hanging loosely in his crooked fingers and at Aether's expectant face. Beyond them, the twinkling galaxy of stars are accompanied by dots of soaring lanterns and the colourful spray of festival fireworks. Something in his chest loosens and unlodges. Xiao feels creeping, hesitant joy dawn on him.
“That day is far yet.” Xiao hums. “But tomorrow, Cloud Retainer has invited me for a meal in her abode, with all the other adepti. …If you have time, would you like to attend with me?”
Aether smiles, fingers bumping into Xiao's. “If you're asking, of course.”
On the day of Lantern Rite, Xiao watches the lanterns drift into the sea of clouds. All is well.