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“Why are you running away? I’m just trying to ask a question!” Qin Jiu called out as he chased after the Fatui members. One of them, a skirmisher, suddenly stopped running and, in a desperate attempt, started shooting electro bullets at Qin Jiu from the cannon he was carrying.
It was always dark in the depths of the chasm, butbut the twin fires from Qin Jiu's two claymores lit up their surroundings as he sidestepped to avoid the bullets and finally attacked them. The light from the flames highlighted Qin Jiu’s face, and the Fatui members felt like they saw a crazed expression—his mouth stretched into a wide smile, his eyes wild with fervor.
He’s still crazy, one of them thought before dodging the fiery slash and attempting to fight back. There was something deeply unsettling about how easily he moved with a massive blade in each hand—each one a full-sized claymore that should demanded an extraordinary strength to wield, and yet he swung them as though they weighed nothing at all. This was their first time running away instead of initiating an attack when he approached them, but unfortunately, it seemed that whether they ran or fought, both were wrong decisions.
The Electrohammer Vanguard charged forward first, his hammer crackling with lightning as he swung it wildly. Qin Jiu spun out of range, both claymores trailing flames that collided with the electro, creating an overload that sent a shockwave to the other Fatui members while Qin Jiu jumped back, seemingly unfazed of the overload sniping at him.
“Surround him!” the Cryogunner yelled, spraying frost that Qin Jiu melted through with a crossed slash of both blades, creating a cloud of steam. The Geochanter erected stone barriers to cage him in while the Anemoboxer dashed through the mist, fists wrapped in swirling wind. Qin Jiu laughed as he vaulted over a pillar as if it were the easiest thing to do in the world.
Various elemental colors clashed as the battle intensified—purple lightning, blue frost, brown geo constructs, green wind, and Qin Jiu’s relentless crimson flames. The man avoided their attacks with maddening ease, even laughing—the mockery clear in how he laughed—as he fought against them. His twin claymores and the fire that accompanied them became a blur in their eyes.
Out of all the opponents they’d faced, this man was one of the craziest. He seemed to genuinely delight in fighting, and unfortunately, his skill supported his obsession. Weapons clashed, and frustrated cries rang out, making the scene even livelier. The Fatui members began slowing down one by one, their movements becoming sluggish from exhaustion and accumulated injuries. Instead of fighting back, they’d been busier avoiding attacks—though sometimes they failed. If their uniforms weren’t so well-made, they might have burned to a crisp.
“Stop!” one of them begged. Before Qin Jiu's twin claymores could come down on them, a block of ice suddenly rose and received his attack instead, strong and thick enough to halt both blades despite the flames. Qin Jiu’s smile, impossibly, grew wider. He pulled his claymores back and took a step away from the ice wall, his eyes scanning the shadows above with excitement. The Fatui members sighed in relief as their bodies were shielded, and they all turned to see a figure descend from a small cliff with practiced ease, landing without a sound despite the height. As he approached, it seemed like the temperature around him grew colder. His eyes were covered by a mask that obscured half of his face, yet they could see that his expression was impassive.
“What’s going on here?” the man asked. Even his voice carried a cold aura, chilling the Fatui members. The only one who didn’t look intimidated was, of course, Qin Jiu.
“Lord Innamorati!” The Cryogunner stood up straight despite his injuries, feeling relief upon their superior’s appearance. He pointed a shaking hand toward Qin Jiu. “We didn’t do anything—this man attacked us first! We were simply trying to complete our assigned mission when he—”
“I didn’t even do anything,” Qin Jiu interrupted cheerfully. The fire went out, and he rested one claymore against his shoulder and let the other hang loose at his side, like this was all just a friendly misunderstanding. “They ran away the moment they saw me. Quite rude, actually. And he—” he gestured lazily toward the Electrohammer Vanguard who was still trying to push himself up from the ground, “—shot first. I was merely defending myself.”
The members opened their mouths to protest, then closed them again. The Cryogunner choked while the Geochanter coughed. Well, it was technically true. Innamorati’s gaze swept over his subordinates, taking in their disheveled appearances, singed uniforms, and exhausted stances. His expression didn’t change, but somehow the temperature dropped another few degrees. One of the members actually shivered.
“Have you finished your task?” Innamorati asked.
The silence that followed was deafening. The Fatui members exchanged glances, each hoping someone else would answer. Finally, the Cryogunner spoke up, his voice growing progressively smaller with each word. “We... haven’t managed to get in yet, Lord Innamorati. This man interrupted us—”
“I see.”
The interruption made the members flinch, while Qin Jiu watched with amusement on his face. Innamorati spoke again, “Return to camp. Rest and tend to your wounds. I’ll handle this matter personally.”
Their faces lit up. They didn’t have to work? They had just traveled from Sumeru, and then they had to face Qin Jiu, so they all felt miserable. Still, they had to maintain appearances. They tried not to look so happy and attempted to protest. “But Lord—”
The man cut them off. “Don’t question my orders.”
“Yes!”
“Thank you!”
They responded one after another before scrambling away to return to their camp, eager to escape both the plague god and their, literally and figuratively, icy cold boss. As they retreated, they cast glances back over their shoulders.
They were curious about what their superior would do to that plague god, wanting to see their boss finally beat the man up. After so many encounters, they still hadn’t witnessed it. Would this finally be the day Lord Innamorati lost his patience? Would they finally witness the plague god getting what he deserved? They had seen their Harbinger bring men twice his size to their knees with nothing but a look and a few words. They had watched him threaten to cut off someone’s tongue simply for talking too much; his voice never changed from his usual deadly calm tone. And of course, they had seen him in battles, mercilessly slaughtering those who were in his way. He was efficient, merciless, and terrifying when he wanted to be. And yet, with this particular man—this grinning, fire-wielding menace who seemed to delight in making their lives miserable—Lord Innamorati always seemed different. More patient. Less cold. Almost... tolerant? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about their interactions made sense. But they valued their lives more than their curiosity, so they fled.
Once his subordinates had fled, the man turned to Qin Jiu and asked, “Can you stop terrorizing my subordinates?”
“Hey, I really hadn’t done anything,” Qin Jiu defended himself. It was too dark, so he walked closer to Innamorati so they could see each other more clearly. “I was just looking for you. You’re a hard man to find, Mr. Harbinger.”
Innamorati scoffed.
“So, you terrorized my agents?”
“Terrorize? They attacked first. I’m the victim here.” Qin Jiu whined playfully. Innamorati crossed his arms. Qin Jiu could not see the upper half of his face, but he guessed that he was also raising his eyebrow.
“You chased them through the Chasm.”
“I was simply trying to ask where you were. Very politely, I might add.”
Innamorati stared at him for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped even lower, carrying a weight that would have made most people reconsider their life choices.
“Why?”
Qin Jiu’s smile softened. He took a step closer, close enough that the cold emanating from Innamorati should have touched him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
“I just missed you.”
***
You Huo tried his best to ignore Qin Jiu’s presence as he walked further into the chasm, searching for the area he had heard about. Despite Qin Jiu’s steps being silent, his presence felt huge behind You Huo. Even without looking, he could feel the man’s stare boring into the back of his head, persistent and unwavering. As he started to feel an itch to turn around, he also started to regret recalling his order. Maybe he should have just let his subordinates investigate after all. But they were slower than him even on their best days, and their current injuries would only make the mission drag on longer.
“Stop following me,” he muttered, though he knew that Qin Jiu wouldn’t be so obedient as to actually listen. If Qin Jiu were the obedient type, You Huo wouldn’t be so entangled with this infuriating man in the first place.
Of course, Qin Jiu responded by saying, “I don’t want to.”
Finally, Qin Jiu walked by his side instead of behind him. He was close enough that You Huo could observe closely—he could see that insufferable, relaxed posture, like they were taking a casual stroll rather than navigating treacherous underground passages. You Huo’s question slipped out of his mouth: “What are you doing here?”
“I told you—I was looking for you.”
“You found me. Now what?”
Qin Jiu’s smile was audible in his voice.
“Well, I took a commission to investigate the new area. Convenient, isn’t it?” He paused, then added with unmistakable satisfaction, “But my main purpose is, of course, you. I heard you were coming to Liyue, so I took the commission. So now I’m coming with you.”
You Huo fell silent again. Not ordering Qin Jiu to go away, or stopping him from following him. Then Qin Jiu spoke again, his tone shifting to something more curious. “I have to say, the domain must be more interesting than it seems. Something caught the Tsaritsa’s eye?”
“No, it’s a personal investigation.”
You Huo had heard about the newly discovered domains containing relics from the past—particularly from the forgotten Lang Gan era, a time shrouded in mystery and lost records. Something about it had sparked his interest, though he couldn’t quite articulate why. There was no strategic significance, no diplomatic advantage, nothing that would normally warrant a Harbinger’s personal attention.
“I see.” Qin Jiu said.
Thankfully, the man stayed silent as they continued deeper into the chasm. The only sounds were their footsteps and the occasional drip of water or even rocks breaking. After what felt like hours of navigating narrow passages and avoiding unstable ground, they finally found it—an unusual building carved directly into the cavern wall. The architecture was ancient, pre-dating anything You Huo had seen in modern Liyue. Intricate patterns covered the stone entrance, suggesting the door would not open easily.
Even without speaking to each other, they fell into an effortless rhythm. Qin Jiu examined the left panel while You Huo studied the right; their movements synchronized like they had done this a hundred times before. When Qin Jiu pressed a sequence of symbols, You Huo immediately understood the pattern and activated the corresponding mechanism on his side. The door responded with a deep, resonant hum, ancient gears grinding to life after centuries of stillness. They could have broken it down—You Huo had certainly considered it—but it seemed that they both had decided to be civil today. For normal adventurers, it was always best to do that first when facing something new like this.
They entered together.
The interior was remarkably well-preserved. Murals decorated the walls, depicting scenes from an era You Huo had only read about in fragments of text. Lanterns—impossibly still functioning after all this time—flickered to life as they passed, as if they were welcoming them.
Then the puzzles started appearing.
The first one involved glowing symbols on the floor, requiring them to step on specific patterns to unlock the next passage. The second involved rotating pillars to align star charts. By the third puzzle—a complex series of elemental monuments that needed to be activated in a specific sequence—You Huo felt his patience wearing thin.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t solve them. But they were such a hassle. They were also simple enough that they became boring. If they were complicated enough, You Huo might feel more engaged. His expression became progressively more annoyed with each locked door and glowing platform. As if detecting You Huo’s thinning patience and growing irritation, Qin Jiu stepped forward with an easy smile. “Let me handle these. You can rest.”
Show off, You Huo thought, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask. But You Huo didn’t disagree. If Qin Jiu wanted to waste his energy on these ridiculous mechanisms, You Huo certainly wouldn’t stop him. He stepped back, leaning against a nearby pillar with his arms crossed, watching as Qin Jiu examined the next puzzle with focused intensity.
You Huo watched in silence. To his credit, Qin Jiu was efficient. He moved through the next several puzzles with surprising speed, his movements confident and precise. They kept moving as Qin Jiu solved the puzzles one by one.
And then, he spent 10 minutes on one puzzle. It was a complex affair involving multiple elemental monuments, moving platforms, and what appeared to be a timer mechanism that reset everything if not completed quickly enough. Qin Jiu tried one combination—the platforms moved, but the door remained sealed. He tried another sequence—closer, but still wrong. Then another. And another.
Qin Jiu stood in the center of the room, hands on his hips, staring at the puzzle with an expression of genuine confusion. You Huo felt it before he could stop it—the corners of his mouth twitching upward. It felt refreshing to see Qin Jiu’s confident demeanor crack. You Huo pushed off from where he had been leaning and walked toward where Qin Jiu stood, his footsteps echoing softly but still loud enough to make Qin Jiu turn at him.
“Finally found something interesting enough?” He asked You Huo, but You Huo ignored him. Instead, he examined the puzzle, and his eyes immediately noticed what Qin Jiu had missed. He activated the monuments silently. The mechanisms responded, and the door ahead unlocked with a satisfying click.
It wasn’t surprising that Qin Jiu failed to solve this one. This puzzle required them to pay attention to the murals on the walls they had passed before, and Qin Jiu had been staring at him instead of the walls.
Qin Jiu looked sheepish when You Huo turned to face him, those dark eyes meeting his masked gaze. Even with half his face concealed, You Huo’s judgment radiated clearly enough. The weight of that stare was palpable, enough that Qin Jiu actually rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that almost resembled embarrassment.
“In my defense—” He started to say, but You Huo had already turned away and walked through the newly opened doorway, clearly done with the conversation.
They moved forward through the newly opened passage, and the atmosphere shifted immediately. The air grew colder, and not from You Huo’s presence. The golden light from the ancient lanterns flickered and dimmed, as if warning them against going further.
The first enemy appeared without warning.
A Rifthound materialized from the shadows. The creature’s growl was distorted, and its eyes gleamed with purple light as it lunged forward, jaws snapping. Qin Jiu's twin claymores ignited instantly, meeting the creature mid-leap in a crossing slash that burst into flame. The impact sent the Rifthound skidding backward, but two more emerged from the darkness behind it, their movements jerky and aggressive.
“Finally, some excitement,” Qin Jiu said with a grin, falling easily into a combat stance. You Huo almost rolled his eyes.
They fought together as naturally as they had solved puzzles—no words needed, just instinctive coordination. Qin Jiu was a force in close combat—powerful, relentless, and absolutely reckless in a way that made You Huo’s eye twitch behind his mask.
You Huo rarely relied on any particular weapon. He produced his own weapons from pure Cryo energy; ice shards materialized around him like floating daggers, launching toward the Abyss Mages with lethal precision. He created icy blasts against one mage's hydro shield, freezing its movement before Qin Jiu's twin claymores clashed against it from both sides, shattering it. As it was happening, a Rifthound broke through Qin Jiu’s defense, its claws aimed at his exposed side. You Huo raised his hand, and a wall of ice erupted between them, absorbing the attack. The ice shattered on impact, but it had served its purpose.
“Thanks, Harbinger!” Qin Jiu called out cheerfully, not even pausing in his assaults.
You Huo didn’t respond, focusing instead on the Cryo Abyss Mage. He finally summoned his sword—an elegant blade—and closed the distance in two steps. The mage’s shield shattered under his calculated strikes, and the creature soon perished because of his sword.
Qin Jiu had always fought quite recklessly, as if he knew for certain he wouldn’t die, as if death was simply not a possibility. He threw himself into attacks with complete abandon, trusting his reflexes and skill to see him through. Another Rifthound lunged at him from behind while he was busy with two others. You Huo created an ice barrier that materialized just in time to block the attack. Then another shield. And then again.
“Thanks again!” Qin Jiu laughed, his claymores carving through the last Rifthound.
The final Hydro Abyss Mage teleported frantically, trying to maintain distance, but You Huo was faster. Ice shards pinned it in place, and Qin Jiu’s claymores finished it off with one decisive strike.
Silence fell over the chamber as they caught their breath, before You Huo turned to Qin Jiu.
“Don’t make me do more work.”
Qin Jiu had the audacity to grin, not even looking apologetic. “But you’re so good at protecting me. It would be a waste not to take advantage of it.”
“I’m not your personal shield,” You Huo said, his tone flat and final. “I won’t protect you again.”
“But Mr. Innamorati,” Qin Jiu replied with exaggerated innocence, placing a hand over his heart like he had been wounded, “I’m so fragile.”
You Huo scoffed.
They moved forward, deeper into the domain. The architecture became more elaborate here, the murals more detailed, depicting what looked like ceremonial processions and ancient rituals. Then more enemies emerged from the shadows—another pack of Rifthounds. They handled them just like before, falling into that same effortless rhythm. Qin Jiu attacked with his usual reckless abandon, and You Huo—You Huo’s body betrayed him completely. Every time a Rifthound lunged at Qin Jiu’s blind spot, You Huo’s hand moved automatically, creating an ice barrier without conscious thought. He wanted to curse at himself. Qin Jiu noticed, of course. His smile widened with each shield showing up, but he did not comment on it. At least not verbally. The knowing look he shot You Huo said everything his words didn’t.
You Huo pretended not to see it.
After defeating the last enemies, they finally reached a wider area where the corridor opened into multiple chambers. The architecture here was different—more deliberate, more organized. Storage rooms, You Huo realized immediately. His pace quickened with renewed interest. If the domain contained relics from the Lang Gan era, they would be housed here.
They started checking the rooms one by one. You Huo pushed open the first door, and his steps stilled.
The room had been ransacked.
Shelves that should have held carefully preserved artifacts were overturned. Display cases lay shattered on the floor, their contents gone. Ancient scrolls were scattered haphazardly. The person who ransacked this room was probably checking if they were worth something. The destruction wasn’t old: no thick layer of dust covered the debris, no cobwebs. This had happened recently. Probably not long before he and Qin Jiu had entered the domain.
You Huo’s expression darkened, the temperature around him dropping several degrees. He turned sharply and hurried to the next room. Unfortunately, all the rooms suffered the same fate. Whoever had looted these rooms hadn’t been careful or respectful, only concerned with grabbing valuable items. You Huo was confused. There had been no sign that anyone else had entered the domain before them. They had solved the puzzles, unlocked the doors, fought through the enemies—all the standard protections had been intact. So how? How had someone bypassed all of that and reached the storage rooms first?
“Check for hidden passages,” You Huo ordered Qin Jiu, feeling too annoyed. Honestly, he didn’t feel annoyed because he lost all those artifacts. He felt annoyed because someone beat him here first.
Qin Jiu nodded and began examining the walls, running his hands along the stone, searching for concealed mechanisms or irregularities. You Huo did the same, his sharp eyes scanning every surface, every potential hiding spot. They investigated but found nothing.
Shitty domain.
While You Huo stood there radiating icy displeasure, Qin Jiu just laughed.
“Well, it seems like we’re not so lucky today,” he noted, though he didn’t seem surprised by their bad luck. If anything, there was a hint of amusement in his voice, like this outcome had been expected all along.
“You failed your commission,” You Huo pointed out flatly. At least he wasn’t the only one who’d wasted time here.
“Well, I got what I wanted, actually.”
You Huo had a strong feeling that it would be too dangerous to ask what exactly Qin Jiu had managed to gain from this expedition. The man’s smile was too satisfied, too smug. Instead, he simply said, “Well, goodbye then.”
He turned to walk away, already planning his route back through the Chasm and calculating how long it would take to return to his temporary base in Sumeru. But a hand caught his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist with surprising gentleness despite the firmness of the grip.
“Where are you going?” Qin Jiu asked, not letting go of You Huo.
You Huo felt an urge to retort with something cutting, but he realized that deflecting would only make Qin Jiu probe further.
“Back to Sumeru,” he answered.
“It’s Lantern Rite now, don’t you want to check out the city?”
He finally released You Huo’s arm, but didn’t step back, maintaining that too-close proximity that he always seemed to favor.
Of course, You Huo knew about Lantern Rite. The entire region had been preparing for it, decorations visible even from a distance. Finding ancient artifacts wasn’t his only purpose for coming to Liyue. He had wanted to see the region during its most celebrated festival, even if only from afar. To observe the traditions, the culture, and the life of a place that should have been his home but never was. He had done some of that before tracking down his subordinates and finding them being terrorized by a certain pyro-wielding menace. He had walked through a few smaller villages on the outskirts, watched from hilltops as the preparations unfolded below. But actually going to Liyue Harbor itself, mixing with the crowds, being surrounded by celebration and warmth and light—a part of him wanted to. But a larger part hesitated.
Sensing You Huo’s internal conflict—because of course the man could somehow read him even through his mask and carefully controlled body language—Qin Jiu asked, “Why? Afraid of ruining the atmosphere?”
You Huo almost sighed. He wouldn’t admit it. He was a Harbinger. Everywhere he went, the temperature dropped. Even when his subordinates said people had gotten used to their presence, he was still different.
You Huo’s skill was considerable—there was a reason he held the title of Harbinger, after all. He was not someone who could be easily caught off guard. And yet, this happened.
He thought Qin Jiu was going to attack him when the man made a sudden move. His combat instinct screamed a warning, and You Huo dodged with efficiency, his body already preparing to counter-strike. But Qin Jiu’s hands weren’t reaching for a weapon. They were reaching for his face.
You Huo realized the true target too late. Qin Jiu’s fingers found the mechanisms of his mask—the intricate, hidden clasps that required specific pressure points to release. The mask came free, away from You Huo’s face. The cool air touched skin that had been covered for hours, and You Huo felt suddenly, inexplicably exposed. He was taken aback; this mask could not be pulled off easily. The design was intentionally complex, meant to prevent exactly this kind of removal. He made it himself. So how did Qin Jiu know how to remove it?
You Huo thought about it for a second and came to a simple conclusion: Qin Jiu had probably ambushed some of his Fatui subordinates—ones wearing similar masks—knocked them out, and then studied the mechanism.
You Huo decided that all of his subordinates needed harsher training.
Before he could reclaim his mask or retreat, Qin Jiu’s other arm moved. He caught You Huo’s arm and pulled him close, suddenly enough that You Huo stumbled forward half a step. Qin Jiu’s arm circled his waist, holding him firmly against his body, gripping him tight. The proximity made You Huo’s thoughts scatter. Qin Jiu was warm—almost uncomfortably so. You Huo was always cold, so that meant he could feel Qin Jiu’s warmth more clearly than other people might.
Qin Jiu stared at his face, and You Huo found himself looking up, meeting those eyes. They were close enough that You Huo could see the reflection of the lanterns in his eyes. He really needed to stop letting his guard down around this man. Day by day, encounter by encounter, Qin Jiu grew more outrageous.
Qin Jiu glanced down at the mask in his hand, turning it over almost thoughtfully.
“You always wander around with this mask,” he said, “No one will recognize you as Innamorati if you take it off.”
His gaze moved back to You Huo’s face, and his smile softened—almost tender. When he spoke again, his voice became quieter, softer, taking on a tone that made the words feel more intimate.
“I wonder if people know that... Harbinger Innamorati’s eyes are really, really beautiful.”
Then Qin Jiu stepped back, releasing him as suddenly as he had grabbed him. The warmth disappeared, replaced by the familiar chill. Qin Jiu’s eyes curved with his widening smile—that infuriating, knowing smile that suggested he was perfectly aware of the effect he’d just had.
“Come on, I’ll treat you to lunch.”
You Huo stared at him, his expression carefully blank.
Hmph. Does this man really think he can be bribed with food?
***
Qin Jiu had managed to bribe You Huo into coming to the harbor.
They had entered the domain when night had come. They had spent hours in those underground chambers, and when they finally emerged from the depths, climbing back up through winding passages and steep inclines, the sun was already rising. Dawn light painted the rocky landscape in shades of gold, warm in contrast to the coldness in the depths of the chasm.
Qin Jiu smiled to himself as he followed You Huo along the path leading out of the Chasm toward Liyue Harbor. It was a smile of pure satisfaction, the kind that came from achieving something he had been working toward for a long time.
He had returned the mask to You Huo, but the harbinger wasn’t wearing it. Not only that, but his uniform was also gone. You Huo wore normal civilian clothes—a simple but well-made shirt paired with dark pants and an outer robe. The outfit was elegant and refined without drawing attention. One might notice, if they looked carefully, that the clothes were slightly too large on him. The sleeves were a bit too long, requiring You Huo to adjust them periodically. The shoulders sat just a fraction wider than they should.
That was because You Huo was wearing Qin Jiu’s clothes, which, of course, made Qin Jiu feel even more satisfied. You Huo’s own casual clothes were at the Fatui camp with his subordinates. And he clearly didn’t want to return there to retrieve them, and didn’t want to face the questions that would come from his subordinates seeing him heading to Liyue Harbor with the man who had spent a considerable time terrorizing them.
So You Huo had been forced to borrow Qin Jiu’s spare clothes. A Fatui Harbinger, one of the Tsaritsa’s most powerful and feared agents, wearing clothes that belonged to the man who had just spent the night “terrorizing” his subordinates.
Nothing about the outfit screamed “Harbinger” or “Fatui.” Just a well-dressed young man who could blend seamlessly into any crowd in Liyue Harbor. He still looked incredibly handsome, though—perhaps even more so without the mask obscuring his features. The morning light caught in his hair, and his eyes, no longer hidden, were as striking as Qin Jiu had claimed. Beautiful, really. Though Qin Jiu suspected You Huo would freeze him solid if he said that out loud again.
Getting You Huo to agree to come to the harbor hadn’t been easy. Qin Jiu had tried convincing him the entire way out of the Chasm, presenting argument after argument.
“Free lunch,” he repeated, which got an unimpressed look. And so, he added, “And dinner.”
You Huo’s steps faltered just slightly.
“I know this amazing place that makes the best almond tofu—have you ever had proper Liyue almond tofu?”
You Huo had remained silent, but Qin Jiu had noticed he didn’t outright refuse.
“And there’s this stall during Lantern Rite that sells grilled tiger fish. They use this special marinade that—”
“Are you going to only talk about food?” You Huo had interrupted, his voice slightly strained. They were both hungry, and Qin Jiu’s vivid descriptions were probably making it worse. Qin Jiu had almost drooled, thinking of all the dishes he was describing. His stomach took the perfect time to growl audibly, which at least made You Huo’s expression shift slightly toward something that might have been amusement.
Then he switched tactics by asking You Huo to investigate with him—whoever ransacked the domain might be selling the artifacts at the harbor. Qin Jiu didn’t know which argument managed to convince You Huo, but maybe he just managed to annoy You Huo enough into agreeing.
By the time they arrived at the harbor, the sun was high above, and the heat was enough to even make You Huo feel warm. Qin Jiu calculated that it was probably approaching lunchtime based on the position of the sun and the energy of the crowds moving through the streets.
You Huo frowned as he took in how many people were around.
Of course, during the Lantern Rite, Liyue was exceptionally crowded. Both locals and visitors from other nations gathered here for various reasons. The main thoroughfare was packed with people moving in every direction, voices coming from every corner, whether it was merchants calling out their wares or simple conversations among the people.
The sheer number of people seemed to make You Huo tense slightly. Qin Jiu knew that this Harbinger had never been comfortable in crowded areas for a lot of reasons. Qin Jiu noticed the subtle discomfort. He dared himself to reach out and take You Huo’s hand.
You Huo didn’t shake him off. His fingers remained still in Qin Jiu’s grip, though his posture stiffened slightly.
“In case you get lost,” Qin Jiu said, his tone light and teasing.
“...I am not a child,” You Huo retorted, but he still didn’t pull away.
Qin Jiu chuckled, giving You Huo’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Compared to me, you are a child.”
Before You Huo could respond to that audacious claim, Qin Jiu started leading him somewhere, going through the crowd of people on the street easily. Qin Jiu’s grip on You Huo’s hand kept them connected despite the ridiculous number of people bumping into them. Finally, they stopped in front of one of the restaurants. When You Huo saw which one, he nearly paused mid-step, but he managed to shake off whatever he was feeling before completely stopping.
This one was the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in Liyue Harbor, but Qin Jiu sensed that that wasn’t the reason why You Huo seemed surprised. In front of the restaurant’s elegant entrance, a considerable number of people waited to be seated. The queue was surprisingly not long, though—less than Qin Jiu had expected. He guessed it was already past prime lunch time. You Huo frowned again when he saw the line of waiting customers, his lips pressing into a thin line. Before he could protest, Qin Jiu tugged him toward the person managing the queue.
“Yu Wen,” Qin Jiu called out warmly.
The man turned his head toward them immediately. He appeared to be in his mid to late twenties, dressed in the restaurant’s staff uniform, with a Geo Vision prominently displayed on his hip. He instantly recognized Qin Jiu.
“Brother Qin! You’re back?” Yu Wen’s greeting was enthusiastic.
“Yes. Is there a private room available?” Qin Jiu asked, “Just for two people.”
Yu Wen’s gaze flickered between Qin Jiu and You Huo, lingering briefly on their joined hands. Both of them could see the gears turning in the man’s head, probably speculating on a lot of things. But he didn’t comment on what he saw; he just said, “Please wait! I’ll check right away!”
In a flash, Yu Wen disappeared into the restaurant. The moment he was gone, You Huo turned to Qin Jiu, “So, you’re rich enough to book a private room here?”
Qin Jiu laughed before he explained, “No, but I saved the owner from treasure hoarders once. So now I have several privileges.”
Before the conversation went further, Yu Wen returned, slightly breathless but smiling broadly.
“Ah! You’re quite lucky! One table just cleared—the guests finished earlier than expected.” Then he opened the door for them and welcomed them, “This way! Though I should warn you, we’re quite packed today, so your order might take a while. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine,” Qin Jiu assured him.
“Wonderful! Right this way, then!”
Yu Wen guided them into the restaurant with practiced grace. Inside, it was even busier. Every table was occupied, and it was quite loud as everyone was talking to each other. The restaurant’s interior was beautiful—traditional Liyue architecture with refined touches, lanterns casting warm golden light, and the subtle scent of expensive incense mixing with delicious aromas from the kitchen. Qin Jiu watched as You Huo took everything in, observing everything.
They followed Yu Wen through the main dining area and up a staircase to the second floor. The private rooms were located here, away from the business on the first floor. It was quieter, as each room was soundproof. Yu Wen opened the door and gestured inside. “Here we are. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
The private room was nicely located. A table was placed near the window, and when Qin Jiu opened it, he could see the harbor.
“Please wait just a moment—you can take a look at the menu, a waiter will come to you to take your order.” Yu Wen said with a polite bow before stepping out, closing the door behind him to give them privacy.
Qin Jiu let You Huo take the chair by the window. The man sat down and immediately turned his attention outside, gazing at the scenery below. From this vantage point, they could see the entire harbor. Ships parked in the harbor, market stalls selling various things in the streets, and lanterns swaying along with the breeze. Qin Jiu knew it was not the time to talk. You Huo needed this moment—to absorb everything about a place that should have been familiar but wasn’t.
But Qin Jiu still had his own scenery to admire.
He studied You Huo’s profile with undisguised attention, taking note of every detail. The way the sunlight shone through the window softened his usually sharp features. The slight parting of his lips as he took in the view, which Qin Jiu gazed at for a bit too long. You Huo seemed more relaxed, less intense than he usually was. Without the Harbinger’s uniform, You Huo looked younger, more human. Qin Jiu felt like he could see the reflection of the sun caught in You Huo’s amber eyes. Right now, they looked almost golden. It was almost unfair how beautiful he looked in this moment
They didn’t need to wait long before a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Qin Jiu called, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from You Huo.
The door opened, and Qin Jiu was surprised to see not Yu Wen returning, but the owner himself entering their private room.
“I’m sorry for making you wait,” the owner said with a practiced smile. “May I take your orders?”
“Old Yu,” Qin Jiu greeted warmly, with genuine pleasure in his voice. “I didn’t expect the owner himself to come serve me.”
Old Yu was a man in his late fifties, his hair graying at the temples. His body showed signs of someone who had enjoyed his share of good wine over the years: a slight thickness around the middle. But despite that, he still looked quite fit, his posture straight, his movements confident. He smiled at Qin Jiu, an expression that carried both slight intimidation and genuine respect. This man had seen Qin Jiu slay people mercilessly, and yet was also grateful for his help.
You Huo didn’t look back at them, his attention still on the scenery outside. But Qin Jiu noticed the barely perceptible stiffening of You Huo’s shoulders, the way his hand on the table tensed for just a fraction of a second upon hearing Old Yu’s voice. The reaction was very small, easily missed by anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But Qin Jiu was always paying careful attention when it came to You Huo.
“Well, there are too many customers today,” Old Yu explained with a slightly rueful chuckle. “I’ve had to come out of my retirement to help out.”
“Well, then, I won’t keep you long. I want two Adeptus’ Temptation, please.” He paused, then turned toward You Huo, and somehow what came out of his mouth was: “How about you, Dear?”
The endearment just slipped out.
Qin Jiu couldn’t say his codename as it would reveal You Huo’s identity as a harbinger, but he also wasn’t sure if he should say You Huo’s real name. So somehow, in that split second of decision-making, his brain had chosen the worst possible option.
Hearing that term, You Huo finally turned his head away from the window. The look he sent Qin Jiu was pure judgment. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression clearly asking: what did you just call me?
Qin Jiu kept smiling, refusing to show embarrassment, even as he mentally kicked himself. Perhaps, mercifully, You Huo kept Qin Jiu’s dignity intact. Instead of calling him out, he simply turned to Old Yu and began ordering.
“I want one more Adeptus’ Temptation, one Braised Meat, one Golden Crab, one Black-Back Perch Stew, and one Almond Tofu.” He rattled out the list without any pause, before finally remembering to add, “Thank you.”
Qin Jiu felt something inside him cringe as his brain rapidly calculated the cost. Adeptus’ Temptation was one of the most expensive dishes on the menu. Three of them, plus the other dishes... He had been spending quite a lot of money lately, especially on that attire You Huo was currently wearing. So, funds were getting tight. But it was for You Huo, he reminded himself. It would be worth it. Every mora would be worth it.
Old Yu didn’t respond immediately. He stood frozen, staring at You Huo’s face with an expression that Qin Jiu couldn’t quite decipher. Was it a recognition? Confusion? A strange mix of emotions was on Old Yu’s face.
“Old Yu, are you there?” Qin Jiu called out gently, pulling the older man from whatever he was thinking about.
“Ah, sorry, sorry,” Old Yu apologized, blinking rapidly as if coming back to himself. “I spaced out a little. Can you please repeat your order?”
With most other people, You Huo would get annoyed at having to repeat himself. Qin Jiu had seen it happen countless times. You Huo hid a lot of his emotions, but he never hid his anger or annoyance. But this time, You Huo repeated his order without any protest. Old Yu carefully noted everything down on his pad, though his eyes kept drifting back to You Huo’s face.
“So, three Adeptus’ Temptation, one Braised Meat, one Golden Crab, one Black-Back Perch Stew, and one Almond Tofu.” He repeated the order back professionally. “For drinks, we’re offering complimentary refillable tea today in honor of Lantern Rite. Would you like that, or would you prefer other beverages?”
“That will be enough,” You Huo said simply.
Old Yu seemed ready to leave, but he hesitated at the door, clearly conflicted about something. Qin Jiu watched the internal debate play out on the older man’s face—the way he glanced at You Huo again, then away, then back. Finally, as if unable to help himself, he asked, “I’m sorry if this seems strange, but... have we met before?”
You Huo paused before answering, and when he spoke, his tone was full of conviction. “No. I’m new here.”
A bit too full of conviction. A scenario started to form in Qin Jiu’s mind—a scenario he would not describe out loud. Old Yu looked disappointed and resigned at the answer.
“Ah, I see.” He smiled sadly, “You reminded me of someone. Forgive an old man his nostalgia. Your food will be ready as soon as possible.”
He bowed slightly and left the room, closing the door behind him. Qin Jiu studied You Huo’s face, watching as the man turned back to the window, his face hardened as he concealed his emotion. Qin Jiu didn’t say anything, once again, letting You Huo have his moment again.
The private room was very well-appointed, very worthy of the price. Qin Jiu’s eyes wandered to the bookcase that occupied one wall. It was an impressive collection—books from all nations were displayed on the shelves. Qin Jiu got up from his seat and browsed the collection. He had read many of these books—both fictional and non-fictional—before, but he didn’t mind re-reading some. His fingers traced along the spines as he read the titles, before his hand finally stopped and pulled out one light novel with a distinctive cover: Pretty Please, Kitsune Guuji?
He returned to his seat with the book, settling comfortably. Qin Jiu knew that You Huo would notice if he stared at him for too long, so while You Huo remained occupied with his thoughts and the view outside, Qin Jiu opened the book and began reading.
Qin Jiu was pretty immersed in the book and didn’t know how long he had been reading before the food finally started coming in one by one. Surprisingly, all three portions of Adeptus’ Temptation arrived first, which made Qin Jiu feel that someone was prioritizing their order. The dishes were beautifully presented, steam rising from the carefully arranged ingredients, the aroma divine. The scent of the food finally drew You Huo’s attention away from the scenery outside.
Qin Jiu was surprised again when he saw who carried the next tray containing a large teapot along with two delicate cups for their complimentary tea. Wen Yuan, the restaurant’s head chef himself, entered the room with a bright smile.
“Boss!” Wen Yuan greeted him cheerfully. He was as tall as Qin Jiu, but he definitely carried himself with a less intimidating posture, his tall height not imposing. His expression was friendly with that silly smile that brightened the room. He was dressed in a chef’s uniform that had been splattered by various ingredients.
“What are you doing here?” Qin Jiu asked, raising an eyebrow with amused curiosity. “The restaurant is so busy, is it really wise for the head chef to leave the kitchen?"
“Well, I just wanted to greet you properly,” Wen Yuan answered as he carefully set down the tray, “You’ve been gone for like six months!”
“So you missed me?” Qin Jiu asked playfully, his tone teasing.
“It’s not like that,” Wen Yuan said quickly, almost stammering over the words. As if sensing a sign of danger, as suddenly as he came, he also ran away as fast as he could.
“Well, I really need to get back to cooking. The orders are piling up. Goodbye, Boss!”
When Qin Jiu turned back to You Huo, the man was already examining the Adeptus’ Temptation in front of him with focused interest. Qin Jiu probably should not be so happy when You Huo commented, “You sure knew a lot of people here.”
Qin Jiu laughed, “Of course. I’m an adventurer—it shouldn’t be so strange that I know a lot of people, should it?”
“Hmm.”
“I saved him once, too. Helped him get this job here afterward,” Qin Jiu added, keeping his tone casual despite his giddiness.
“Hmm,” You Huo said again, already focused on preparing to eat, holding his chopsticks expertly. But at least he was listening and responding, which was something other people would consider an honor.
You Huo devoted his full attention to eating, and Qin Jiu found himself simply watching for a moment. It wasn’t the first time they had shared a meal, so Qin Jiu knew that You Huo preferred to eat in silence. He was something of a foodie, genuinely enjoying good food and always taking the time to savor each bite properly. He ate with almost the same intense concentration he brought to solving puzzles.
Qin Jiu watched him chew his food thoughtfully, his cheeks puffed slightly with each bite. His eyes closed briefly when he tasted something particularly delicious. Qin Jiu couldn’t help but find it... adorable.
You Huo’s subordinates would probably be horrified if they heard someone call their boss, the powerful and terrifying Harbinger Innamorati, adorable.
They were both grown men who required a lot of energy not only for their activities but also to channel their powers. So in what felt like an impressive amount of time, they managed to inhale all the food, with Qin Jiu even ordering extras. They ate until they were full and felt too lazy to move, both silently deciding to stay at least until some of the food was digested. You Huo had apparently had enough of the window scenery and was feeling bored. For once, he initiated the conversation. He glanced at the book still lying on the table in front of Qin Jiu and commented with remarkable dryness, “Didn’t know your taste is like that.”
Qin Jiu’s eyes followed You Huo’s gaze to the light novel, and he smiled as he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. “Well, I’ve found that light novels can be surprisingly educational.”
You Huo cast a doubtful gaze at him and asked, “What kind?”
“Well, for example,” Qin Jiu said with fake seriousness, “from these novels, I can learn how to seduce someone.”
You Huo’s expression immediately changed to one of instant regret. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Qin Jiu could practically see him thinking I should not have asked that question. This was one of the times Qin Jiu saw him being so expressive. So, before You Huo got too annoyed, Qin Jiu smoothly switched the conversation topic.
“Where is 154? He’s usually by your side. It feels kind of weird not seeing him around.”
154 was a humanoid automaton who worked as You Huo’s assistant, so he was typically always by You Huo’s side. You Huo had apparently created 154 himself, which probably explained why the automaton looked so much like him, like a younger brother who loved to stick by their older brother’s side.
“He is still in Sumeru,” You Huo answered simply.
“Oh? I thought Sumeru was outside your jurisdiction,” Qin Jiu said, genuinely curious. The Harbingers typically operated in specific regions, though they could travel freely.
“He’s handling my thesis defense administration.”
Qin Jiu blinked, genuinely confused by this revelation. “Wait, you actually signed up for the Akademiya? I thought you were joking when you mentioned that.”
“Why would I lie about something like that?” You Huo asked, looking at him like Qin Jiu was stupid.
“Well, a Harbinger enrolling to be a student...” Qin Jiu couldn’t help but be amused by the mental image. “That’s not exactly common. But shouldn’t you handle that administration yourself? It’s your thesis defense.”
“154 is my thesis subject,” You Huo explained matter-of-factly, as if this should have been obvious. “He can demonstrate himself as a successful experiment.”
The logic was clear: What better proof of concept than having the research project itself handle its own paperwork?
Qin Jiu laughed so hard that he nearly choked.
***
When they left the restaurant, somehow, the crowd was even worse than when they arrived at Liyue. You Huo still felt a bit full, though he was satisfied. The food was, of course, good. But of course, that was also annoying, because he just knew that there would be times when he would crave them, but would be unable to reach for them so easily.
As they left, he tried not to look back, keeping his gaze forward, staring at the crowd, and yet not particularly paying attention to anything. He tried not to imagine how his life could have been if only his mother made different choices. There was no use for that what-if, nothing useful. It would only lead to a kind of grief he refused to entertain.
He focused on what needed to be done.
Which was when he remembered, with a flash of mild irritation, that his belongings were still at the Fatui camp, being guarded by his subordinates who now had nothing to do since their task was taken over. He couldn’t go retrieve them himself, not without explaining where he had been and why he was wearing someone else’s clothes.
He turned his feet toward the Adventurers’ Guild without saying anything to Qin Jiu. Qin Jiu followed him without any questions.
Katheryne stood at the reception desk with her characteristic composure, processing requests with mechanical efficiency. When You Huo approached and gave his name—his real name, not his title—You Huo sensed that she recognized him, though she did not say anything about it, only doing what she was made for. She accepted the commission without comment, which was exactly what he needed from her. He told his story with a straight face: a dispute with a group of Fatui agents had resulted in his personal belongings being taken, and he needed them returned.
For once, the fact that the harbor was crowded with people worked in his favor. The commission was just posted before an eager adventurer claimed it. Admittedly, You Huo posted a generous fee for the commission, and the commission seemed simple enough if the adventurers were not afraid of the Fatui.
You Huo borrowed parchment from the guild desk and wrote a brief letter to his subordinates. The letter was concise: give the adventurer his inventory and go back to their original post. He gave the adventurer who took his commission his personal token, telling him to show it first to the Fatui before giving the letter to prevent them from attacking the adventurer. It was a token he usually used whenever he gave an order, though admittedly this order was more…mundane. He explained that he had managed to take it back from the Fatui agents during their altercation. The adventurer was to show it first before delivering the letter, to avoid being attacked on sight.
Qin Jiu had watched the entire exchange from a few feet away, arms crossed, expression shifting gradually from mild interest to barely suppressed amusement. By the time You Huo sent the adventurer away and turned back to him, Qin Jiu could no longer hold it in. He laughed, earning a few glances from nearby guild visitors.
“Have you gone crazy?” You Huo asked flatly.
“It’s just funny watching you weave lies with such a straight face,” Qin Jiu commented. You Huo scoffed. Being a good liar was pretty much a requirement for his line of work. It would be more concerning if he weren’t good at it by now.
He walked away from the guild, Qin Jiu, as always, followed by his side.
“Have you thought about where to start investigating?” You Huo asked, hoping that Qin Jiu at least used the free time he had for something more useful.
“Kind of,” Qin Jiu said with a slight shrug. “But I need to meet my commissioner before I make any moves. She should have more current information about what has been moving through the harbor markets. But she is probably busy, so finding her might take some time.”
You Huo’s mind began working quietly, putting together the clues. It took two seconds before he concluded, “It’s Chu Yue, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
You Huo was not surprised at all. He had known Chu Yue for a long time—longer than most people knew he had known anyone outside the Fatui. They had trained under the same mentor once, back when he was no one in particular, and she was not yet one of the Liyue Qixing. Different paths had taken them in very different directions, but those paths occasionally crossed, sometimes with Qin Jiu somehow involved in the middle. The three of them had worked several times before; Qin Jiu and Chu Yue more often, more free to do so than him.
As one of the Qixing, of course, Chu Yue would be busy during this time. As the one overseeing Liyue’s military and security affairs, she would be coordinating the Millelith deployments and monitoring for anything that might threaten the safety of the thousands of visitors currently within her jurisdiction. It would be pretty hard to find her; she might be in the harbor, or she might be at the outskirts. You Huo did not question how Chu Yue had managed to communicate with Qin Jiu, given that Qin Jiu had only just returned to Liyue and she was swamped with work. Some things about how those two coordinated were better left unexamined.
“Oh,” You Huo said. If he and Qin Jiu were to do anything, it would be better if she knew about it so she could back them up. Well, actually, it was only him. Qin Jiu was unaffiliated; his actions bore no consequences other than for himself. You Huo was different—even out of uniform, his actions might reflect the Fatui. He wasn’t particularly concerned about making trouble; he was just too lazy to deal with the political hell that might come from his trouble-making. Plus, he still needed to graduate.
“I’m sure she’ll make her way back to the harbor before the main event tonight,” Qin Jiu said, his tone confident, as if he knew exactly how Chu Yue operated. “She wouldn’t miss it.”
“Oh,” You Huo said again.
All things considered, You Huo really had no reason to be here.
“Well,” Qin Jiu started saying, and You Huo had a feeling whatever he said would tick him off, “considering you don’t seem to be in any rush to leave, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to investigate.”
You Huo turned to Qin Jiu with a complicated expression on his face.
Of course. Of course, this man had seen straight through him. He had started missing his mask—no, the mask wouldn’t make Qin Jiu’s ability to see straight through him disappear, but at least it would feel like he still had a shield up, some barrier between himself and the outside world.
Right now, he felt transparent, and he hated it.
He stalked off in anger.
When they passed a pair of Millelith soldiers stationed at a street corner, You Huo stopped and asked directly where Chu Yue was. The soldiers hesitated, their eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar face asking about their superior’s whereabouts. You Huo, even in civilian clothes, still carried himself with an authority that made people want to obey him, but at least, these soldiers seemed to be well-trained. Thankfully, Qin Jiu was by his side. When they saw him, recognition seemed to appear. Chu Yue worked with Qin Jiu often enough that, apparently, even her soldiers knew his face. Still, the soldier remained cautious—it was only when Qin Jiu stepped forward and repeated the question that the answer came. Chu Yue was away. Further than they expected. By the time they arrived at that place, she would likely already have returned to the harbor for the evening’s main events.
“So, I guess we have no choice but to wait.” Qin Jiu noted, sounding far too happy about it.
“Then you go have fun,” You Huo said. “I’m going to rest.”
He had a small apartment in one of the harbor’s residential hotels, purchased years ago in his own name—not under the Fatui. It was fully his. He barely used it; the purchase was one of his few irrational decisions.
“No way, you are going to miss the festivities?” Qin Jiu said, already holding You Huo’s hand before You Huo even left, had already guessed what You Huo was going to do. “Come on, Harbi—You Huo. This is your first Lantern Rite. You should have fun.”
The way Qin Jiu said his name was somehow stilted. You Huo knew that name was unfamiliar in Qin Jiu’s mouth. Qin Jiu had called him a lot of things—Innamorati, just like everyone else, and Mr. Harbinger, and some other bullshit nicknames depending on the situation they got themselves into. But none of them was his real name. It made You Huo remember the restaurant and the endearment that slipped out of Qin Jiu’s mouth. He refused to think about why Qin Jiu did that, just like how he refused to name what kind of relationship they had. But still, his ears warmed at the memory, and once again, his hands gripped Qin Jiu’s hand in return instead of letting go.
“Does it matter whether I have fun or not?” he asked. Though even as the words left his mouth, he understood that it wasn’t really a question. He knew why Qin Jiu insisted. He had always known.
“It does matter,” Qin Jiu said, his thumb caressing the back of You Huo’s hand, the rough warmth of his thumb making the sensation more acute than it should have been. “But, if the crowds are too much, we can find somewhere higher up and just watch from a distance.”
You Huo fell quiet. He thought about it. Actually thought about it, instead of reflexively deflecting.
“What do you want to do?” He asked, a genuine question.
Qin Jiu’s smile became brighter. A genuine smile, not the smile he usually wore when he wanted to mask something. He looked around at the festival stalls lining the harbor walkway, and his gaze landed on a row of game stalls.
“I want to win you something,” he declared, already steering them both in that direction with their joined hands.
“That seems unlikely,” You Huo said. He knew damn well that a lot of those games’ winning rate usually depended on luck, so the hosts could have some profits, no matter how skilled the players were. He also knew damn well that their luck was catastrophic.
“You don’t know that.” Qin Jiu insisted, as he led the way to one of the stalls, “Maybe today is the day we cancel each other out.”
As if wanting to test it, Qin Jiu led them to a simple luck-based game.
Of course, they did not cancel each other out.
The first game involved spinning a wheel divided into prize segments. Of course, to play the game, they had to pay, and Qin Jiu paid for both of them carelessly as if he just didn’t spend a good amount of money at the restaurant. Qin Jiu spun first with great confidence and landed on the single blank segment out of twelve. You Huo almost laughed, but then he stepped forward, spun the wheel, and landed on the same blank segment.
They looked at the wheel. They looked at each other. Neither of them said anything. They had both long since stopped questioning their luck.
They played several more games, all of them luck-based. It was as if Qin Jiu wanted to prove something. Somehow, they managed to win nothing in all of them, and the hosts, who had seen them moving stall from stall, seemed to start pitying them. At last, in one final game, Qin Jiu got a bit luckier by winning a consolation prize, as if the universe finally took pity on him. It was a small paper fish on a string tied to a stick. Qin Jiu held it up and bounced it. It looked like a cat’s toy, not something a human used.
“Progress,” Qin Jiu said.
“That is not progress,” You Huo replied, wooden.
Finally, finally, Qin Jiu chose one of the stalls with a game that actually required their skills: Theater Mechanicus. It was a strategic challenge requiring actual spatial reasoning, resource management, and tactical thinking rather than the mercy of random chance, where they needed to place attack, support, and defense towers to prevent enemies from leaving the area. They could play alone or together, with the difficulty rising if they played together. Qin Jiu didn’t let You Huo answer and declared, “We will play it together.”
As always, they faced the challenge with quiet, efficient coordination. They were as concentrated as back when they solved puzzles in the ancient domain. They placed offensive and defensive items strategically, backing up each other when they left a gap.
They did not let any enemies escape.
The prize was a mechanical cat automaton, palm-sized, crafted with surprising detail. Its movements looked quite realistic, and it seemed to have sensors that allowed it to follow nearby movement. It walked around the counter, demonstrating its function, tail flicking. Qin Jiu picked it up and held it out to You Huo with a smile of pure satisfaction. You Huo had no use for it whatsoever. Its intelligence systems were, at a glance, considerably less sophisticated than even the simplest automaton he had ever built. But he accepted it anyway, letting it step from Qin Jiu’s palm onto his own. It looked up at him with small glowing eyes and flicked its tail.
“It looks like you.” Qin Jiu said, earning a glare from You Huo. In his opinion, the cat looked considerably more like Qin Jiu—the lazy, unhurried way it moved, the casual indifference to its surroundings.
He put the cat into his pocket.
Qin Jiu led him to the food stalls next, navigating the crowded festival with the ease of someone who had walked them many times before. He guided You Huo through the Li stalls first and then through the Yue stalls. He described every food, explained the history of these foods, and included some fun trivia that seemed intended to make You Huo lose his appetite, like noting that one of the candies had historically been used as a preservative for something entirely unrelated to food. You Huo tasted everything they ordered, anyway.
Qin Jiu watched him eat with barely disguised attention, his own food getting ignored. He definitely looked like he found something more interesting than them, with the way he tracked all of You Huo’s reactions towards the food. You Huo was almost used to it. Almost. He was still not used to someone treating him as if he were the most important thing around—not because of his position, not because of his power, but simply for being himself.
“Finish your food,” You Huo said, without looking at him. “Don’t waste it.”
Qin Jiu smiled and ate his food.
Once again feeling full, they moved on from those mouth-watering food stalls. The sun had gone down, and the lamps started to light up one by one. Before he knew it, You Huo found himself standing at the entrance to a large open area set with long communal tables—the lantern-making area. A lot of people sat down together, working with wire frames, glue, brushes, and paper.
“We can just buy the lanterns,” You Huo pointed out. There was a stall directly beside the crafting area selling finished ones.
Qin Jiu didn’t even pause to consider it.
“That won’t be fun.”
So they ended up sitting at one of the tables, the materials right in front of him, and the instructions for crafting the lantern in front of them. This almost felt familiar to You Huo, reminding him of the first time he started learning to build automatons. By now, he was already used to building things. Assembling the frame, scoring the paper cleanly, applying adhesive—it was simple compared to the work of building an automaton, simple enough to be almost meditative. His lantern took shape quickly enough, the structure clean and well-balanced.
So now, You Huo had nothing to do, so he glanced over at Qin Jiu.
Qin Jiu was staring at his half-assembled frame with an expression of genuine confusion. He had, somehow, folded two of the wire joints in the wrong direction. He tried adjusting it from one angle, which made it worse. He tried the other angle, which made it different but not better. He tilted his head at it like a different perspective might reveal a solution. It seemed that this man was more used to destroying things than building them.
He looked so confused that it almost looked…adorable. You Huo cringed at himself for using that word to describe this audacious man. Still, he pressed his lips together to suppress a smile that threatened to form.
“You folded the base joints inward,” You Huo said.
“I know,” Qin Jiu said.
“That’s not how joints work.”
“I know that, too.”
Looking at the disaster, You Huo reached over. His hands closed over Qin Jiu’s on the frame, repositioning his grip.
Qin Jiu went very still.
You Huo let go.
Qin Jiu blinked.
Then, You Huo pointed out where he needed to fix it, telling Qin Jiu what he needed to do. Qin Jiu looked at where he was pointing. Instead of starting to follow You Huo’s guidance, Qin Jiu reached out for You Huo’s hand, looked at You Huo, and then shamelessly requested, “Guide my hand through it.”
…shameless man. You Huo thought. Qin Jiu was not so hopeless that he couldn’t follow simple directions. You Huo sighed. But he did it. Guiding Qin Jiu’s hand through the steps.
The mechanical cat peeked out from his pocket and watched them both.
***
“…Oh, fancy seeing you two together!”
Chu Yue’s voice sounded very clear as it cut through the restaurant’s noise, sounding genuinely surprised but also pleased by what she saw. Qin Jiu spotted her right away. She was sitting at one of the restaurant’s tables, clearly rewarding herself with a feast after a full day of work. The feast was almost as impressive as Qin Jiu and You Huo’s feast. Several dishes were on the table, and there were already empty plates beside them.
This was a total coincidence. After making the lanterns, Qin Jiu led You Huo back to this restaurant. Earlier, while You Huo’s back was turned and they were settling the bill, he had asked Yu Wen to hold the private room on the upper floor—the one with the window that faced directly over the harbor. He was determined to spend the night with You Huo, so even though he knew that You Huo might run away from him, he still did it. He wanted to watch the lanterns with You Huo, but he knew that You Huo would get too overwhelmed mingling with the crowd. So, he made that plan.
He didn’t expect they would meet Chu Yue here. Perhaps all their luck went into meeting each other.
“Come, come sit with me!” Chu Yue called, already gesturing at the empty seats across from her.
They both sat down in the empty seats. Chu Yue swallowed another piece of food before looking at You Huo, ready to launch her grievance.
“I have been inviting you to come for Lantern Rite for years,” she said, pointing her chopsticks at him with the ease of someone who had long since stopped being intimidated by him, “and this man managed to get you here?”
Qin Jiu watched You Huo’s face with quiet amusement, already knowing what was coming.
“I came on my own,” You Huo said, with complete conviction.
Chu Yue’s gaze dropped to the two lanterns resting on the table between them. She looked at You Huo. She looked at Qin Jiu. And then smiled knowingly.
She said nothing about it.
They talked through the commission over the remainder of her meal—what Chu Yue knew about unusual artifacts moving through harbor markets, which merchants had expanded their inventories suspiciously ahead of the festival, which channels were worth investigating first. She was thorough and efficient even while eating, which was a quality Qin Jiu had always admired in her. You Huo listened without contributing much, but Qin Jiu could see him processing and filing every important piece of information.
“Won’t you join us?” Qin Jiu asked.
“Nah.” She downed the rest of her drink with one decisive motion and stood up, “I’ll watch it with the other Qixing. A new tradition, you know.”
She picked up her things, then paused, turning back with a look in her eyes that Qin Jiu recognized as the specific expression she reserved for situations she found entertaining.
She winked. At both of them, but really at Qin Jiu.
“You two enjoy your time together.”
And there she went.
Qin Jiu looked at You Huo, but You Huo was already looking somewhere else, his expression carefully composed in the way it always was when he was trying to hide something. His ears, Qin Jiu noticed, were marginally redder than usual.
Qin Jiu extended his hand towards You Huo.
You Huo took it.
The private room was similar to the private room they used during lunch, but with a bigger window and a much better view, clearly designed for occasions like this. Together, they stood by the window and watched the performances below. Qin Jiu noticed that You Huo was particularly immersed in the traditional opera performance and made a note to take You Huo to watch more opera performances in a more private setting.
And then, the main ceremony began. The lamps dimmed down, and the adeptus statue lit up first, signaling the start of the ceremony. One lantern followed, then ten, then hundreds, then thousands, until the sky above Liyue was no longer quite dark. They emerged from every corner of the harbor, from rooftops and docks and open courtyards, rising into the dark sky above Liyue. The light they cast was warm and golden, painting the undersides of low clouds, reflecting in the water.
Qin Jiu lit both their lanterns at the windowsill. He handed You Huo his without ceremony or commentary, and they released them together—watching the two small flames rise in quiet harmony, climbing until they joined the tide of hundreds and became indistinguishable from the rest.
Neither of them made a wish.
Qin Jiu had stopped making wishes a long time ago, somewhere in the aftermath of things he no longer let himself think about directly. But standing here now, he belatedly realized that he had a wish. It was a simple wish: he wanted to spend more time with this warm Harbinger. He didn’t voice that wish out loud.
They watched the lanterns rising in silence. It was a comfortable one, one born from familiarity with each other. After a while, Qin Jiu spoke again.
“So how does it feel to be home?” he asked, eyes still on the lanterns climbing the sky. “It feels kind of nice, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not home,” You Huo said quietly, casting his gaze downward before looking up again. “I wasn’t even born here.”
Qin Jiu didn’t respond right away, absorbing the words. It was the most You Huo ever told him.
You Huo seemed to remember the mechanical cat at that moment. He reached into his pocket and retrieved it, setting it on the windowsill between them. It immediately began moving back and forth along the ledge. You Huo put two fingers in front of it, stopping its movement, and then repositioned it so it faced outward toward the harbor, and then pulled its head so it could watch the rising lanterns. It almost felt like animal abuse.
“Does this place feel like home to you?” You Huo asked, without looking at him.
Qin Jiu smiled—the quieter kind, without performance. He wasn’t surprised by the question. They never revealed anything about themselves to each other, but somehow, they seemed to know each other. Qin Jiu wasn’t surprised that You Huo just seemed to know that this place wasn’t his home either. They were both displaced people finding each other.
“Well,” Qin Jiu said, looking up at the lanterns rising, at the sky beyond them, at the constellations scattered above the reach of the light, and then further still—beyond the moon, beyond anything that could be named from here. “Liyue is quite similar to my home.”
The closest thing to home. To him, it felt like a replica. Not the real thing.
“That home,” he said, still looking up, his voice unchanged in tone but carrying something underneath it that he rarely let surface, “I will never be able to go back to.”
The lanterns rose and rose.
You Huo fell silent.
Then his hand found Qin Jiu’s, fingers closing with quiet certainty. Qin Jiu felt it—the rare warmth of You Huo’s hand—and then You Huo turned toward him. His free hand reached up, caught the front of Qin Jiu’s collar, and pulled him down.
He kissed him.
For a second, Qin Jiu was still, caught entirely off guard for perhaps the first time all day. And then, he kissed back—properly, his hands finding You Huo’s waist and drawing him closer, pressing him gently back against the windowsill. You Huo’s arms wrapped around his neck without hesitation, holding on with certainty. The mechanical cat toppled off the ledge onto the floor below.
Neither of them noticed.
They kissed under the lanterns’ light, the golden glow spilling through the window and across them both. The world narrowed to the warmth of Qin Jiu’s mouth, the familiar press of his hands, the way You Huo’s breath caught and steadied against him.
That night, Innamorati made the mistake of letting this strange man into his apartment again.