No copyright infringement intended.
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i.
in agreement
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To the people of Liyue, Rex Lapis has many divine titles. He is Morax, the overlord who once ruled them, and the Geo Archon of the Seven. When he minted the first Mora, the very money that circulates throughout Teyvat, merchants revered him as the God of Commerce. Laying down laws by his might made him the God of Contracts, and the mortals unaware of his real identity refer to him as Zhongli, dubbed Living History for his expertise in the manner of all things.
In truth, Rex Lapis is merely a collection of memories.
Fragments of faces, familiar and kind, follow him around like kindred spirits searching for solace. He devotes his days to strolling the streets, sharing stories with the living who willingly lend him their ears. As the sun seeps into the sea and bustling Liyue begins to slumber, he slips into the shadows and stands atop one of the many mountaintops overlooking the city, gazing upon that which he built with his own hands while ghosts sleep on his shoulders.
His existence relies entirely on the idea that words are good enough. Earning his multitude of monikers at the expense of enduring seemingly endless suffering makes him feel a bit like a martyr in this life, but historians describe Rex Lapis as calculating and cruel, not some sort of selfless saint. Perhaps, he thinks, the poltergeists persist in hopes of persuading him to repent for his sins. Who can tell the gods whether that, too, is enough?
Not many. Not anymore. The sights and sounds of his surroundings often remind him of halcyon days (Osmanthus wine, Rex Lapis muses, tastes the same as he remembers it), but those who share the memories have long since manifested into memories of their own. Memories of laughter and light, of darkness and dust. For someone who lives in the present but lingers in the past, words need to be good enough if only because they are all he has left.
"Hello, Mister Zhongli."
The vessel of his mortal self readily reacts to its name, a polite smile prepared for the stranger who snapped him out of his stupor. It becomes friendlier upon recognizing their face and falls off altogether when he registers the peculiarity of the situation presented to him. Like most Liyue citizens, Zhongli is well-acquainted with the Tianquan, but she stands almost unrecognizable in clothes more casual than he remembers her wearing, granted he rarely, if ever, sees her outside of her office.
"Hello, Lady Ningguang," he says. "What a pleasant surprise."
In the time Zhongli spent mingling with humans, few managed to maintain his interest. The short list includes the Traveler from another world, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, the Yuheng of the Qixing, and the Tianquan, herself. Before they met, he had dedicated himself to the belief that the people of Liyue could not survive without their God. As Keqing said, they became too reliant on him, and their response to his supposed death at the Rite of Descension seemed to prove as much.
Then, in a blaze of glory not unlike a planet befallen, the Jade Chamber scattered from the sky. Zhongli had made his share of assumptions about Ningguang predicated on stolen glances and faint whispers from her many admirers, but her sacrifice single-handedly subverted his expectations. Of all that had happened in the months since, Zhongli notes privately that running into her at this antique shop has brought him the closest thing to intrigue.
"I thought the same when I spotted you," Ningguang says, circling a vintage armchair to approach him. "Does the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor require some remodeling?"
Zhongli humors her with a chuckle. "As much as I enjoy the pieces I've seen so far, I don't think any of them would serve much purpose at my place of work."
"Is this a personal excursion?"
"Perhaps not any more personal than it is for you."
"Keqing insisted I take the afternoon off," Ningguang says, stifling a sigh. "I had been wandering aimlessly when I stumbled upon this shop, though I must admit it's given me some much needed inspiration."
Were he not the God of Contracts, Zhongli might have felt the slightest annoyance at her way of speaking. Every sentence to come out of her mouth withholds information, as if she expects the other person to reveal something of equal or greater value before she can share the rest of her thoughts. Given that he is, in fact, the God of Contracts, Zhongli understands why she considers it necessary. For a leader of her status, whatever she discloses could impact not only her, but the people she has promised to protect.
In this instance, Ningguang had not mentioned why she needed inspiration from a hole-in-the-wall furniture shop, but Zhongli has a few guesses. Despite her wealth and inclination for expensive items, the Jade Chamber remains the Tianquan's greatest honor, and she would likely prioritize rebuilding it over spending money on trivial things. Of course, Zhongli also understands why she would have refused to say that outright. No one in the city really knows him, and someone like Ningguang has every reason to take precaution in a stranger's presence.
"The shopkeeper is an acquaintance of mine," Zhongli supplies in return, clasping his hands behind his back.
Ningguang offers him a curt smile, and on the surface, she appears nominally affected by his vagueness. "I don't know much about craftsmanship, but the owner seems to have curated a beautiful collection."
"I agree," Zhongli says. "It's as much an antique shop as it is a furniture store. Much of the the inventory dates back hundreds of years."
"Oh?"
"Approximately."
"I'm sure you would know," Ningguang says, the same sophisticated smile stitched intricately onto her expression.
Zhongli lets out a little laugh, less refined than the first. "It appears my reputation precedes me."
"I don't suppose your expertise extends to the art of feng shui," Ningguang says, placing a hand on her cheek. "It would be a shame to leave without purchasing something, but I usually have Keqing deal with matters of design, so I'm afraid I'm very much out of my element."
"Is there anything in particular you would like to find?" Zhongli asks, somewhat startled by her sudden request.
Ningguang thinks aloud with a pensive hum. "I'm open to anything so long as it's unobtrusive."
"Ah, so you're looking for something to decorate the Qixing's headquarters."
"Had you assumed otherwise?"
"I thought it was for your personal selection," Zhongli admits. "You give off the impression of a seasoned art collector."
"I make my dealings in politics precisely because I know nothing about art," Ningguang says, shaking her head for good measure.
Zhongli shakes his head right back. "Art is political."
"Is it?"
"I believe it is, at least."
"May I ask you to entertain me with an explanation?"
"Art is the expression of conceptual ideas intended to convey and invoke emotion," Zhongli says without delay. "Take, for example, change that occurs as a result of protests by the people. It is proof that abstract values can be brought to fruition, much like artists create pieces deeply rooted in the experiences that have shaped their personal identity."
"I recognize the similarities, but are they enough to claim that art, in all its forms, is inherently political?" Ningguang asks, arching a delicate brow.
Zhongli nods. "Art needs not explicitly address specific events to create a valid political statement."
"But how can you say that is every artist's intention?"
"If it's an authentic expression of their values, it is, by nature, political."
"Are you implying artists don't have the choice to decide that for themselves?"
"The only decision to be made is whether to state if their art is political or not," Zhongli points out. "If they say it's political, then it's political. If they go out of their way to say it is not, that, itself, is a political statement."
"I don't understand why it needs to be one or the other," Ningguang says, frowning, though not unkindly.
Zhongli pauses, then asks, "Do you think art is a luxury?"
"Yes."
"May I ask why?"
"It's a pricy pursuit," Ningguang says, matter-of-factly. "The materials required to make a career out of it cost more than the average person can afford."
"Even poetry?" Zhongli presses.
Ningguang begrudgingly falters. "Without any connections, it would take a bit of effort to get a book published."
"Publications aside, poetry is not a luxury," Zhongli refutes. "For many people, especially those without such connections or monetary means, words are a necessary part of their existence. It is a way to communicate their dreams and doubts, and in expressing those afflictions, they establish their power. Although not all artists may intend it to be so, art is political because it allows the oppressed to have a voice, to be heard."
Zhongli thinks about barren wastelands and the brutality of war. His people had followed him through the plains of Guili to south of Mt. Tianheng, treading over blood and bones toward the little haven now known as Liyue Harbor. Poetry did not save them from death or worse, but the words of their absent God kept them moving, made them more than willing to stay alive. Guizhong always had a way with them. Poetry. People. Peace. Unite in ambition, she told them. Zhongli only wishes they had more time.
"That's not what I expected to hear from you," Ningguang says after a moment, reeling him out of his reverie once more.
Zhongli tilts his head. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," Ningguang says. "I'm merely curious about what other stories you must have stored away. I don't doubt they're interesting, but I can't help but disagree with the notion that words are good or enough."
Mustering a simple smile, Zhongli regards the Tianquan with less intensity than he sees in her stare. From what he knows of her, Ningguang has her own way with people, but her reaction to his rambling reveals a stubbornness that he has, until this conversation, only observed from afar. He recalls a young woman selling her wares at Yaoguang Shoal, barefoot and brilliant despite the dismal circumstances. Even now, Zhongli can tell she has strong opinions, and he finds himself waiting for her to voice them.
"I hear every whisper within this city's walls," Ningguang continues. "Those words have provided me with important information, but change does not come about because I or any of the other citizens speak it into existence. Change, especially positive change, requires action, and the effort we put towards that drives us forward."
Can you not elicit change even without the luxury of taking action? If speaking into existence a life worth living was once all that had kept you alive?
Zhongli almost asks the questions aloud, but under the heat of the Tianquan's relentless rebuttal, the words vaporize on his tongue. As Ningguang gives an example about the marked and unmarked, he listens, curious about her thoughts on a philosophy seldom discussed these days. In linguistics, markedness means standing out as divergent compared to common forms. The dominant default form is known as unmarked, while the secondary unit is referred to as marked.
More often than not, identities are marked when that identity is part of a minority. For instance, women are hyper-aware of being a woman because that self-awareness is necessary, as shown when they put into practice specific routines to ensure their safety, such as avoiding walks after dark. Men do not feel the same sense of urgency, and since they have the privilege of existing without regard to how their behavior affects other people, they remain the dominant default form.
"Words have marked me," Ningguang adds, perhaps a touch solemnly. "I am a woman, and I am the Tianquan. There are many people in power who do not appreciate nor accept that. In order to get here, I had to work tirelessly, building businesses and bonds with my bare hands, persevering through poverty and the most pitiful conditions."
As Rex Lapis, a God among gods, he does not recognize the disproportionate treatment; in Celestia, patriarchy is not a concept, much less a construct. As Zhongli, however, an adeptus among mortals, he notices the inequality in even the smallest areas of life. To most people, that might make Ningguang's achievements seem all the more impressive, but Zhongli understands, better than most, that success is not always worth the sacrifice. Given the choice of claiming a seat within the Seven or keeping more than a memory alive…
"Don't tell me I've lost you already," Ningguang says, sobering with mild amusement.
Zhongli clears his throat. "I had no intention of implying that you don't work hard."
"I didn't think you did."
"I've never been good with words," Zhongli confesses. "Sometimes I think my faith in them is but a projection of my feelings for an old friend who always knew what to say. I admit, I wish I had her capabilities at this moment."
"Has my spiel left you stupefied, Mister Zhongli?" Ningguang asks, her tone taking on a ludic lilt that had not been there until then.
Or maybe he just didn't notice; nonetheless, Zhongli eases into a grin at the sound of it. "On the contrary, Lady Ningguang, I find myself quite inspired by you."
"Shall we agree to disagree, then?"
"No," Zhongli says, his grin widening at her baffled disposition. "I see your point. And yet, I still stand by mine."
"How can you believe words are both enough and not enough?" Ningguang asks, inching the slightest bit forward.
Zhongli mirrors the action, dialing his voice down as if he had a secret to tell. "You have nothing to prove."
"What?"
"You have nothing to prove," Zhongli repeats, smothering something of a snicker at her apparent incredulity. "Least of all to me. I have differing beliefs, yes, but yours are not any less valid. If words are enough and not enough, then perhaps the question is not can everything we hope to express be expressed with words , but rather can everything be expressed ? I don't know if that means either of us are correct in our assumptions, but this conversation certainly gave me much to ruminate on."
For a few seconds, she says nothing. Zhongli worries he has overwhelmed her by vocalizing his stream of consciousness, but to his relief, Ningguang releases another sigh after a short breath of silence. It comes out a bit like she is grasping at the threads that connect their ideas, and he laments about whether she would have preferred to sever them.
"How profound must one be to question if everything can be expressed?" Ningguang mutters, brows furrowed ever so slightly.
At her bemused, almost bewildered, expression, Zhongli settles back into his smile. "Mora for your thoughts?"
"I've heard from a handful of little birds that you're not one to be making such propositions," Ningguang says, collecting herself long enough to tease him, in a way. "Thanks to you, however, it seems I have much to think about this time, as well."
"Are you suggesting there will be a next time?"
"I wouldn't be opposed to it."
"Well," Zhongli says, oddly pleased. "It's only right that I make recompense for taking up your afternoon off."
With their discourse steering back towards casual conversation, Zhongli allows himself to shift his attention onto other things. The light filtering in through the windows has rusted into a warm amber, comparable to the marigolds staining the curtains prior to their exchange. As the long hand on the grandfather clock across them strikes twelve, signaling the start of a new hour, Zhongli realizes just how long they had been talking.
"You still have to help me choose a piece," Ningguang says, relaxing her stance at last.
Zhongli nods. "For the office."
"For the office," Ningguang echoes, peering down at the birch vanity that had witnessed the entirety of their chat. "Although, I will say a personal collection isn't as unattainable as I thought."
"I'm sure nothing is impossible for the Tianquan," Zhongli says, earnestly.
Ningguang laughs for the first time that afternoon, and it is a pleasant sound. "I could say the same about you."
"Me?" Zhongli inquires. "I'm just a consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."
With another chuckle beneath her breath, Ningguang dips her head at him, then moves toward the door. Zhongli watches her, noting something in her voice. He can't tell if it means she doesn't believe him, which leaves the man somewhat wary of the implications, but he does not sense any ill-intent. And so, when she peeks at him from over her shoulder and smiles, Zhongli smiles back.
"Of course, Mister Zhongli," she says. "In that case, perhaps I can take my chances and invite you to dinner for tomorrow?"
postscript
Last semester, I read Poetry Is Not a Luxury by Audre Lorde, and it resonated with me a lot. In the part that inspired this story, she says, "Poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action. Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives." I'm not really sure where the rest of this story is headed, but the first two people who came to mind when thinking about deep, philosophical conversations with a layer of mutual pining were Zhongli and Ningguang, so here we are now. Although this is mostly self-indulgent, I hope you can see something in it that resonates with you, too.
Thank you for reading!
p.s. on a less formal note i was building pity for kazuha and accidentally pulled klee but i definitely cannot afford to be a whale which means i'm pretty much on lockdown for the next two weeks grinding for primos despite the 50/50 looming over my head (don't get it twisted i love klee and had her fully built within a week but i just really want suna rintarou and sohma yuki on my team ok)
p.p.s. i don't feel at all qualified writing about zhongguang if only because i haven't fully built either of them but by some miracle i had both the staff of homa and memories of dust on hand (even though i usually run ning with solar pearl) so after diluc and i become bffs i will not be leaving the domain of guyun until it gives me both a crit damage and crit rate circlet godspeed
p.p.p.s. this is the last one i promise but i made a zhongguang playlist that u can find on my spotify if ur interested (u can find the link at jngsjngs dot carrd dot co) thank u