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Summary
The word “Forever” was always spoken so carelessly amongst mortals, a promise spoken in the dark, a spur of the moment. Zhongli had never understood the need.
He had watched empires crumble under the weight of that word, had seen beings far older than the crust that he now walks upon use the same word with such certainty-- and yet where are they now, if not one with the dust of the ground that bore them?
He supposed, somewhere over the course of his retirement, he would come to understand it.
It's been some years since that thought last found him.
He still does not.
Or :
Our favorite geo archon strolls the modern streets of liyue and reminisces about the war and a certain auburn-haired man.