The lustrous rays of sunset were rippling across the harbor, soft salty spray bathing its watchers in the scents of sea and sand. Gentle gusts of wind threaded through Childe's hair, combing it with care and content. He could hear the evening chirps of cicadas, singing to the moon as it rose in the inky air, and his eyes were trained on the water as he soaked in the images gratefully. A quiet sigh spilled from his lips and into the breeze. He'd missed this.
Not the scenery, specifically. He loved it, but it was something he saw every day during his stay in Liyue Harbor. The last month or so, though, the experience had not been the same, because he had not had the company of a certain friend.
Childe glanced sideways at the man next to him. Zhongli's hair curled in the wind, amber tips brushing over chiseled features and liquid gold eyes. He, too, was watching the ocean, and his presence scented the salty air with the smell of the earth. It seemed like an eternity since Childe had stood here with him. It was one of their favorite places to frequent, but they hadn't been there in the week or two since they'd reconciled. Perhaps because the memories they shared here felt too… intimate, something they hadn't been ready to be again until now.
He only had himself to blame, really, for Zhongli had made no effort to avoid him. Quite the opposite, actually—he'd tried to apologize so many times. For deceiving Childe, for using him, for hurting him. And it still did hurt, even now that they'd reconciled. Childe didn't know if it would ever stop hurting. But he could still understand it was something Zhongli had to do, and he could still forgive the man he'd come to care so much about. So he did, and here they stood, basking in the comfort of the warm night.
Their routine had been shaky at first, unsure. This had worried Childe, for never at any point prior had Zhongli made him feel unsure. Even when they'd first met, the formalities of two business partners was something they both knew inside and out. It had been easy, polite, practiced. Then, they'd breached the gap into something more akin to friendship, warm smiles and gentle nudges becoming just a bit more meaningful. But coming back with such a devastating wound in their bond, one that had just barely begun to be stitched, had not been an easy feat, and neither man had been quite sure what to say to the other. However, as Zhongli liked to say, time heals all wounds, and so did the gaping chasm between them gradually start to close again.
Noticing he was being watched, Zhongli met Childe's gaze. "A beautiful night, isn't it?" the adeptus asked. His posture was draped over the railing, relaxed and happy as he gave Childe a little smile.
"All nights are beautiful in Liyue," Childe laughed. It was true—he'd become spoiled living here, greeted with such sights, sounds, and smells every day. He didn't know how he was supposed to go back to the dreary fog and snow of Snezhnaya after this. "But yes, it is."
Zhongli hummed in acknowledgement, and as if echoing his thoughts, commented, "A pity you will not be able to experience them after you leave." He did that a lot, Childe noted with an amused smile. Did godly powers perhaps include mind reading?
"I'll surely miss them," Childe agreed. "Liyue has really begun to feel like home. You'll just have to wait for me and show them to me again next time I visit, yeah?"
Zhongli smiled as well. "It is a promise."
They stood there a while longer, bittersweet thoughts gathering in Childe's mind at the reminder of his inevitable departure. It wasn't that he didn't want to return; Snezhnaya was his home, after all, and he loved it dearly. His family was there, as was his queen. He'd missed the familiar sights and sounds of the nation.
But he'd also grown to love Liyue, more than any other nation he'd traveled to in the past. It was true what he'd told Zhongli. There was something about its warmth, the warmth of the air, the sea, the ground, and the people, that made the place feel like a home. The sights and sounds of the city market had become a comfort to him, a voice murmuring this is safe, this is right in his ear. Leaving Liyue meant leaving the golden leaves of ginkgo trees, the clear blue skies devoid of clouds, the coworkers he'd greet at Northland Bank. He didn't want it all to slip through his fingers.
But in the time since the Osial catastrophe, it felt as if he'd already lost some of that. He'd lost the friendly smiles of merchants on the streets, instead gifted with wary looks, anger bubbling just below the surface. The cheerful chatter of daily life was sometimes traded with hushed tones, hostile whispers and heated glares. Liyue didn't like him as much as it used to (and he couldn't exactly blame it), but he still loved it the same.
And, most of all, leaving Liyue would mean leaving Zhongli. The consultant's constant presence over the months Childe had worked with him had been new; any and all of Childe's coworkers in the Fatui didn't like to touch him with a twenty-foot pole, much less make friendly conversation. In fact, the only people in Snezhnaya Childe could think of who actually enjoyed interacting with him were his family back in Morepesok, and even they had very scarce opportunities to see him.
So Zhongli was the first and only person who he regularly hung out with, and Childe really, really enjoyed it. The realization that this went beyond business, that the man actually enjoyed his company and sought it out, left a warm, buzzing feeling in the harbinger's chest. They could write letters after Childe left, he knew, and he had every intention of doing so, but it wouldn't be quite the same.
As always, Zhongli's watchful eyes caught the drop in his mood. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, the deep rumble of his voice soothing.
"I'm fine," Childe assured him with a small smile. "I guess I'm just not as ready to leave this place as I thought. I've gotten too attached," he admitted ruefully.
"That is not necessarily a bad thing," Zhongli said. "Liyue is easy to love, but it tends to feel more like a tourist spot for many visitors. You said it has begun to feel like home to you?"
Childe flushed. As a diplomat and devoted lieutenant of the Cryo Archon, did such a statement imply his loyalties were wavering? Oops.
"Not that I don't still love Snezhnaya," he blurted, dodging the question. "I'm always going to be loyal to my queen and my family. But, uh… it has been nice. My time here, I mean. And my time with you."
Zhongli's eyes softened. "I, too, have greatly cherished our days together. Your departure will not be the last time we meet, I am sure of it." He turned Childe towards him, hands on his shoulders, and held him with a steady gaze. "I will make sure of it."
Childe was still for a moment, stunned by the intensity in the man's expression that made it clear this was no ordinary promise, it was a vow from the God of Contracts, one that would never be broken before the ground broke and the sky shook. Seeing Childe again meant that much to the god.
Damn, Zhongli was taking this so seriously. Childe wanted to laugh, but he really wasn't any better. Plus, he was too entranced, so all he could do was nod. It seemed an archon's majesty could shine through in the most mundane of moments, not just rituals or great battles.
Zhongli pulled back after a few seconds as if remembering himself, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "Ah, my apologies," he murmured, though Childe was lost as to what he could be apologizing for. "You…" He paused, then shook his head as if to clear it. "Are you looking forward to seeing the Tsaritsa again?"
Childe nodded without thinking. "Of course. I wonder what assignment she'll have for me next," he mused, glancing towards the dark horizon. "Hopefully something with lots of fighting." Fighting was a distraction. Maybe fighting would prevent him from missing Liyue, remind him of his duties.
"Are you usually dispatched for missions that require combat?"
"Yeah," Childe said. "This was the first one in a while that involved any plotting or scheming. That's usually left to the other harbingers. Fighting is what I'm good at, and I don't like sulking around. Not good at it, either—you saw how that worked out," he said with a half-hearted laugh, feeling that dull twinge in his chest at the reminder of his humiliation.
Zhongli frowned. "Are you still upset?" he asked quietly. The guilt in his face immediately wiped away Childe's self-pity.
"Not at you," he said hurriedly, quick to try to mend the damage. "Not at all. But… I'd be lying if I said I've moved on," he smiled wryly. "I'm more upset at myself, I guess, for not figuring it out sooner. And at Signora—arrogant bitch, though I can't blame her too much 'cause she was just following orders. And…" He couldn't finish the sentence. There was something else, but…
"The Tsaritsa?" Zhongli asked.
Childe winced. For all the understanding in Zhongli's eyes, this was bad. He wasn't supposed to be upset with the Tsaritsa. She was his superior, a divine archon. She did no wrong, and she was not to be questioned. But he couldn't deny that Zhongli was right.
"I…" Childe faltered, breaking off into a sigh. "I don't know. I shouldn't." Any elaboration died on his tongue.
Thankfully, Zhongli took his silence as a hint and changed the subject. "You leave in approximately two weeks, correct?"
"A week and a half," Childe corrected.
"Yes, that's right. We must make the most of that time," Zhongli said, straightening up with newfound determination. "What is it you would like to do before you go?"
Stay with you, his brain answered immediately. Childe shushed it for its stupidity. "Uh, we could go on a hike?" he suggested. He'd really enjoyed going out and seeing Liyue's scenery.
Zhongli seemed to approve. "There is a scenic trail up the side of Mt. Tianheng, just outside the city. Would that interest you?"
"Yeah," he said immediately, for he'd long since learned that any suggestion of Zhongli's would not disappoint. "Yeah, that sounds great."
"Very well," Zhongli said. "We can go tomorrow.
"But for now," he smiled, hand coming to rest on the small of Childe's back, "let's simply enjoy tonight."
Mt. Tianheng was beautiful year-round, fluttering leaves and lush grass greeting the pair as they climbed it, Zhongli's voice floating through the cool air as he explained the history and ancient myths about the place. Childe listened, enraptured by the tales his friend spun, their eyes never leaving each other.
Zhongli seemed to like it when he'd jump in with a question here or there, so Childe asked earnestly, "Do the adepti like mountains like this? It seems so, 'cause they spend all their time in places like Jueyun Karst."
Zhongli nodded. "Indeed. The adepti favor mountain regions because they are far away from mortal civilizations. Not many are as involved with humans as I—though, I wasn't either, of course, until recently."
"Did you like living in solitude?"
"Hmm…" Zhongli looked thoughtful as he paused for a moment. "I didn't dislike it," he said finally. "But now that I have experienced living among humans, I would not return to it. Humans, as much as I care for the adepti, are far more interesting," he said, tilting his head at Childe with a pointed smile. "They are much less powerful, yes, but it is not as if I am seeking to overpower them."
"I bet you could bring this whole mountain down if you wanted, couldn't you?" Childe said eagerly, never one to turn down the opportunity to talk about fighting. "Come on, you're always so stubborn when it comes to talking about your strength."
"It has been a long time since I have needed to use the full extent of my abilities, and I doubt I will ever need to again," Zhongli said, his small smile telling Childe he was definitely only doing this to be annoying. "There is no need to discuss them."
"But there is!" Childe whined. "I want to know! Fight me," he demanded, hands already reaching for his bow.
Zhongli made an amused huff. "You request to spar with me at least twice a day."
"Because it's fun," Childe insisted. "Beating up monsters or skirmishers is boring unless you find a really strong one; they go down so easily! It's not a challenge. The only ones other than you who pose a real threat to me are the other harbingers, but they suck anyway because you can tell they don't enjoy the fighting. Well, maybe they do. Maybe it's just me they're grumpy at. So you," he poked Zhongli's chest, "are the best sparring partner I've found! Oh, just thinking about it is delicious. Please," he begged, giving his best puppy eyes (which he knew were less endearing and more ridiculous, but who cared as long as they got Zhongli to fight him? Not Childe!).
With a performative sigh betrayed by his widening smile, Zhongli finally reached his hand out to materialize his spear. "All right, I will indulge you. I am honored to be your favorite sparring partner."
Yes! his thoughts sang. In an attempt to hide his overeagerness and salvage at least a sliver of his dignity, Childe opted to respond with his regular banter. "Thousands of years of offerings and worship," he teased, already nocking an arrow, "and my praise is what you're honored by?"
"I value it," Zhongli said, and the innocent sincerity of his words rather than an answering jest caused Childe to pause in surprise.
"You do?"
Zhongli nodded. "Truly. You are my friend, and your approval is something to be desired."
Childe stared at him for a moment, feeling his cheeks flare up. This couldn't be real. Zhongli was too good to be true. And however much the god enjoyed his approval, Childe was pretty sure it didn't quite have the same effect as when it was the other way around.
Desperate to hide his embarrassment, Childe drew his bowstring taut, smirking at the god. It was his favorite bow, one Zhongli had generously gifted to him a couple of months ago, and the arrow nestled in its hold practically begged him to release it. "Hurry up and fight me if you want to earn it," he quipped.
If Zhongli had been less dignified, Childe thought he would have rolled his eyes. "No blades today?" he asked, shifting into a readied battle stance. "As we've agreed on before, you would stand a better chance with them."
"I just want to try," Childe said. "Didn't I just say I like a challenge?"
Zhongli smiled, a hint of knowing arrogance bleeding into his voice as it lowered and he said, "Very well, then. Don't say I didn't warn you when I've destroyed you."
And oh, archons, why did that light a fire in Childe's veins?
He knew Zhongli would never really hurt him. It was just talk. But why did the thought of him, of Morax bringing him down sound so thrilling?
He wanted to find out.
He answered the god with an arrow speeding towards his face, the hydro energy he'd been charging glowing brightly on the tip. Zhongli dodged it easily in a practiced motion, the snap of his head transitioning into a smooth lunge towards Childe. Childe sprang away, doing his best to keep his distance, but it was hard when Zhongli was so fast. No matter where he tried to step away, the adeptus was quick to follow, making himself known with a beautiful flurry of slashes that made Childe almost wish he could sit back and watch without focusing on dodging. He ducked out of reach of the speartip for what felt like the hundredth time already, reaching for another arrow from his quiver. He frowned as his frustration grew—there just wasn't enough time to nock and aim in between Zhongli's assaults. He tried again, and again, and another time, all to no avail. Irritated, Childe gripped the arrow more firmly and chucked it like a dart, the weapon whizzing through the short distance towards his foe.
That caught Zhongli off-guard. Clearly not expecting Childe to get a shot in, he only had time for a startled flinch when the arrow hurtled towards his face. The tip grazed his cheek, leaving a thin streak of blood welling up in its wake.
Childe's eyes widened with his grin. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten in a lucky hit and struck the god, but it felt so good every time. His pride took a backseat, though, once he saw the expression on Zhongli's face, and he had to keep himself from bursting with laughter.
"Did—" Zhongli looked baffled, staring at Childe as if he'd done something absolutely scandalous. "Did you just throw that arrow at me? With your hands?"
"It worked, didn't it?"
"Childe—" Zhongli pinched the bridge of his nose, more offended than the harbinger had ever seen him. Childe couldn't suppress a giggle. "For a master of weaponry, I am astounded at the kinds of stunts you pull. Though I admit it… worked, and I most definitely did not see it coming, if you ever wish to gain expertise in marksmanship, you will need to actually practice with the bow."
"Leave me alone," Childe complained, firmly ordering his mind not to freak out about the indirect compliment. "I couldn't get a shot in!"
"That is exactly why you must practice." If Childe's reflexes had been any less honed, he'd have been instantly downed by the next sudden attack Zhongli launched as he surged forward at the speed of light.
Used to a weapon crafted for this kind of move, Childe's instincts had him raise his bow in a familiar blocking motion, one he'd used hundreds of times against Zhongli in the past and that had served him well. But an archer's bow was not exactly designed to withstand the onslaught of a god, and a sharp crack resounded around the mountain clearing as Childe stumbled backwards from impact.
Instantly, Zhongli pulled back, spear crumbling away into dust. "Oh," he said in a small voice that surprised Childe. "I am sorry, Childe, that was unintentional…" How quickly he could go from a dangerous, commanding war god to this! Blood still thrumming from the battle, Childe wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for—why'd you put your spear away? Keep going!—until he followed Zhongli's guilty gaze down to the bow in his hand.
It was busted. Messy cracks adorned its surface, rough against Childe's hands, and he stared at the damage with a slow blink.
And some impressive damage it was. Zhongli's brute strength had really shone through with that last attack. Here was physical proof of it to examine and admire, but somehow, Childe didn't feel awed, and he felt none of the nervous excitement he usually got when at a disadvantage in battle. He felt…
Childe was surprised to find that he felt upset. The weapon was useless now. Ruined.
"We can get it repaired," Zhongli said tentatively when there was silence. "The blacksmiths in Liyue Harbor offer those services—consider the expenses taken care of."
Childe swallowed, trying to compose himself. What was he doing, getting worked up over this? Now Zhongli felt bad, like he had to make it up to him. Childe tore his eyes away from the bow and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it came out more strained.
"You don't need to do that, xiansheng," he said. "I'll take care of it. And don't apologize. That was a good blow."
Zhongli shook his head. "That bow was a gift to you from me, and I was the one who broke it. Allow me to pay for its repairs."
"No," Childe said, "really, it's fine." It wasn't fine. But why?
Zhongli still looked worried, but he didn't try to argue more as they started their trek back down to the harbor. Childe tried to make their usual idle conversation, but he was pretty sure it came out dry and forced. Gods, why was this important to him?
The issue bugged him long after they got to the harbor, long after they dropped the bow off at a blacksmith's shop (the employees of which did a bad job at hiding their surprise at the sheer damage done to the weapon), long after they parted ways and Childe had returned to his cozy apartment.
He puffed out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he slumped down on the leather couch. Why was he so upset? It's just a bow, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. Sure, he'd always been one to love a good weapon, but he wasn't like he was head-over-heels for them. They were only objects. They could be replaced.
But it wouldn't be the same, his mind whispered. It wouldn't be from him. And that's when Childe understood.
The bow had been a gift, a gift from the very man Childe had been fretting about having to leave for the past several days. When he returned to Snezhnaya, that bow would be one of the things with him at all times, reminding him of his friend and making him feel just a bit less far away. A normal bow wouldn't do that.
Childe's eyes drifted across the room, skimming the various trinkets and baubles that lined the shelves. They'd really come to life in the past few months. Childe hadn't ever been one for collections, mostly owning necessities and tools. But during his frequent shopping excursions with Zhongli, in which he'd more often than not pay for the man's expensive selections, he'd found himself grabbing one or two items for his own, interest piqued by Zhongli's miniature history lectures. One or two became one or two dozen, and before long his house was littered with various works and antiques. Guess he really rubbed off on me, Childe thought with a smile.
His wandering gaze settled on a small dragon plush. The mahogany fabric gently dusted with gold stirred his memory, and he sank back into the clear, sunny day.
"A tiny Rex Lapis!" Childe exclaimed. "Imagine if you were really this small. I'm going about my day and suddenly look up to see a pint-sized Lord of Geo landing on my shoulder. A shoulder archon!" He raised the plush up, caging it in his grasp and flashing the man at his side a teasing grin.
A chuckle spilled from Zhongli's lips. After a quick glance around to confirm they were out of anyone's earshot, he confirmed, "It is true that I could take such an appearance, if I wished. My powers allow my form to change into anything I wish, so I could most certainly do something so simple as decreasing the size of my draconic body."
"I need to see that in person someday," Childe said. "Look at him, he's so cute! I'm buying him."
If Zhongli had any thoughts about the way Childe ecstatically hugged the plushie of his god form, he kept them to himself.
Childe moved his gaze to the sapphire jewelry glinting beside it, a pair of gleaming blue earrings, the rays of the setting sun filtering through the windows and setting them aglow.
"Look at these earrings," Zhongli beckoned, carefully bringing one of the gems closer to his face to inspect it. "They are exquisite. The color of the stones is almost unnaturally vibrant." He passed a gloved thumb over the earring in a gentle stroke. "It would be a shame not to purchase them… but I doubt I would be able to put them to much use. The color palette of the clothing I regularly don would clash with the blue. I suppose I should leave them for someone else to buy…"
He looked so disappointed, and it was rather endearing; Childe stifled a smile at his sad face. He looked like a lost puppy—or perhaps just a dragon who had forfeited a potential addition to his treasure hoard.
"Think I could pull it off?" Childe grinned. He held the other earring up to his ear, blocking the red jewel that already dangled there, and cocked his head in a tiny pose. He was half-joking, but instantly, he could feel Zhongli's eyes scanning his face, appraising the sight. They glittered and the god hummed, seeming pleased.
"Yes, it quite suits you," he said approvingly. "The hue matches that of your eyes. I believe you should purchase them."
Childe laughed. This wasn't the first time Zhongli had shown enthusiasm at the harbinger buying something fancy for himself. It was like the adeptus enjoyed dressing him up, draping him in fashion and bling until he shone. "If you like them on me that much, I won't refuse."
"I do," Zhongli insisted. "You look marvelous."
Childe felt heat bloom in his cheeks, his laugh bubbling back up as he ducked his head. What a feeling it was to be studied and praised by the oldest of all archons. He'd never tire of it.
And Zhongli continued to watch him, all fond smiles and reverent gazes, as if Childe's beauty were only growing with each second. The harbinger thought he just might combust on the spot.
And he did, of course, purchase the sapphire earrings.
Next to the earrings sat a shallow wooden box, in which Childe knew sat an expensive pair of chopsticks, painstakingly decorated with a dragon and a phoenix twining around their lengths. Admittedly, he still wasn't that good at using them, but they were at least nice to look at.
"When Xiangling is cooking, it would be far more appealing to go to Wanmin Restaurant, as opposed to Xinyue Kiosk or Liuli Pavilion," Zhongli explained, passing a glance over the young chef diligently flitting around the tables. It wasn't Childe's first time at the restaurant, but he had yet to try the young Xiangling's work, which Zhongli had been hyping up for weeks.
"I'm fine with anything, so long as it's good," Childe assured him. Except… he sent a silent prayer to Celestia that Xiangling would have at least one option that wasn't searing hot with spice. He tried to handle it—he really did!—but the cuisine of his homeland left much to be desired in terms of bold flavors, so his taste buds had been unprepared and vulnerable upon coming to Liyue. And that wasn't the only hardship when it came to eating in this nation.
Childe grimaced at the cursed utensils placed before him on the table. Okay. He could do this. He picked them up and… continued to stare at them. How exactly were you supposed to hold these things?
"…But do they only have chopsticks?" he found himself saying, admitting defeat.
Zhongli chuckled lightly. "You will need to be adept with chopsticks if you are to truly appreciate Liyue's gastronomy," he said. And before Childe could retort that yes, he could appreciate it just fine with a fork, thank you, Xiangling pattered up to their table, looking breathless from running around but no less bubbly.
"Mr. Zhongli!" she greeted the consultant cheerfully. "We have Springvale boar on the menu today. Would you like to try it instead of the salt-and-pepper tofu?"
Zhongli gave her a warm smile. "We'll have both," he told her. Xiangling bounced away with a nod.
"Do I have to use these for the boar too?" Childe grumbled halfheartedly, giving his chopsticks a disdainful look.
Another laugh. "Do not worry," Zhongli said. "The use of chopsticks is really quite simple once you have gotten the hang of it." He picked up his own pair, quickly placing them between his gloved fingers. "Look, like this."
Squinting, Childe adjusted his chopsticks into what he hoped was a similar position. He gave them an experimental click, only for them to slip out of place instantly.
"Try again," Zhongli encouraged. "Yes, here—let me help." He leaned forward to adjust Childe's grip, and while this certainly looked much more accurate to the way Zhongli's chopsticks were positioned, it still felt odd. When their food arrived and it was time to actually use them, Childe's tofu seemed determined to return to his plate no matter the cost.
"It keeps falling!" he complained as the food slipped for the fifth time. "Why's this so hard?"
"All skills are improved by doing," Zhongli said patiently. "Perhaps we should get you a pair of your own to practice with."
Childe groaned at the thought of the horrid utensils invading the comfort of his home, but he knew Zhongli wouldn't rest until he was at least decent with them, so he didn't argue. What he didn't expect was for the chopsticks Zhongli selected to be over a hundred thousand mora.
"Zhongli," he complained, "is this really necessary? I could just get some normal ones."
Zhongli's eyes remained trained on the dragon-and-phoenix chopsticks. Something about them must have intrigued him, for he had a curious expression on his face Childe couldn't decipher.
"No," Zhongli said, "these will do. Consider them a gift from me."
Childe had to laugh, even through his exasperation. "Aren't gifts supposed to be paid for by the gifter?"
Zhongli looked up at him, that strange expression intensifying. It was starting to make Childe a little nervous. "Please," he said stubbornly. "Take these ones."
Childe had no idea why he was being so insistent, but he decided it wasn't worth it to argue. "Fine, fine," he said, rolling his eyes. They were nice chopsticks. "Just for you."
Zhongli's eyes brightened, expression lifting into a pleased smile. "I hope you will enjoy them."
When he'd eventually found out the implication behind that particular dragon-and-phoenix design, Childe had nearly spat out his tea. Zhongli can't have meant it like that, he'd panicked, he was just being nice.
Right?
Childe hummed as he studied the chopsticks. He never did figure out if Zhongli had meant anything by the gesture, and he still wasn't sure how he felt about it. Would he ever find out? It seemed unlikely, since he wouldn't be seeing him much anymore…
His gaze traveled from the shelf to settle on the desk beside it. On the desk laid a pen, and next to it some paper. A bad idea started to brew in his brain and he was rising from the couch before he could think.
Stupid idea, he thought, even as he sat down in the chair. Stupid, stupid idea. What are you going to tell her? "Dear Your Highness, I want to stay in Liyue because I made a singular friend." Stupid!
But his hand moved on its own and began to pen the most self-indulgent words Childe had ever written in his life:
To Her Imperial Highness. I am writing in regards to my current position in Liyue, and would like to request to be stationed here longer.
Childe sighed and accepted his fate. Damn Zhongli and his ability to take over every neuron in his brain. Childe really was obsessed with the man, wasn't he?
…He refused to ponder on what that meant. He could deal with that later, assuming the Tsaritsa humored his request.
He really, really hoped she would.
"Good as new!" Childe said, nodding cheerfully before loosing a few more arrows. "Better than before, actually. That shop did some good work." He turned the bow over in his hands once more, weighing it with a satisfied smile. It balanced perfectly across his palms, the material cool and smooth against his skin. He admired its sheen as it caught the light, rays of sun bringing out the warm golden waves rippling across the surface. It truly was one of the most beautiful weapons he'd owned, and the fact that it was a gift from Zhongli made it all the more valuable.
It still astonished Childe at times that Zhongli would do such things for him. What sort of strange twist of fate had brought him here, where the six thousand-year-old former Geo Archon, quite literally a god, was buying him expensive gifts. It was as if the deity was making him an offering, so similar to the myriad treasures he must have received on a daily basis from his people. It was such an odd feeling, a backwards feeling, like the earth had been flipped upside-down, and to Childe, who'd spent a good chunk of his life in direct service to an archon, it felt dangerously close to disrespect to accept such gifts. Can we go back to when it was me spending all my mora on him?
Well, whatever qualms Childe had about receiving the bow from Zhongli, he had it now, and he wasn't about to let the thing go to waste in its newfound, upgraded state.
Speaking of Zhongli, the former archon watched him from a few feet behind, a smile curving on his lips at Childe's words. "Indeed, they have long been praised for their quality of work, and it would seem that the young heir to the business does not disappoint." Sensing one of Zhongli's usual lectures on the horizon, Childe eagerly turned his body and his attention around to listen.
The god's gaze locked easily with Childe's. That was one of the many things Childe liked about him. Almost never did he zone out, lost to the haze of a memory or thought, but kept his explanation centered on his companion, as if he was not only eager to share his wealth of knowledge, but to share it with Childe, ensuring the harbinger enjoyed and absorbed all that he said. And so, as always, Childe paid him rapt attention.
"I remember when Mr. Hanfeng, Master Zhang's father, first founded the business," Zhongli said, the amber of his eyes glittering thoughtfully. "The reputation and success of Hanfeng's Ironmongers today nearly singlehandedly stems from him and his expertise. When one focuses their entire life's work into a craft, the results they reap are incredibly rewarding." Zhongli paused for a moment, studying something in Childe's face. Childe blinked only when the adeptus's eyes fluttered closed with a quiet sigh and he shook his head, a sudden sadness passing over him like a rain cloud. "It is a pity how short a time mortals are given on the earth when it has so much more to give and they have so much more to receive…"
Childe frowned; he knew the feeling. Any person in his line of work was either extremely aware of their own mortality or insane (and well, okay, Childe wasn't exactly the most mentally stable person himself, but that wasn't the point), and while Childe had long since come to terms with the fact that he'd be gone sooner or later, that didn't mean he couldn't lament the lack of time.
And he didn't like seeing Zhongli upset about it. The little furrow in his brow, the way his perfect posture slumped ever so slightly, the sad, sad look in his eyes as they searched Childe's—it made Childe's chest clench and he wanted to stop it. A sudden, intense wave of determination washed over him—he needed to stop it. That content on the former god's face must be brought back. So Childe plastered on what he hoped was an understanding smile and placed a hand on Zhongli's shoulder (he'd barely even noticed closing the distance between them) in hopes of shaking him from his sudden gloom.
"All the more reason to enjoy the time we do have! Say, xiansheng, what was Mr. Hanfeng like in his youth?"
Thankfully, the change of subject seemed to relax Zhongli a little, even if he still looked a bit troubled. As the god began to rattle off stories of Hanfeng's golden days, Childe wondered just how many times he'd thought about such a morbid subject. Part of him thought it must be a lot—many mortals grow old and die in six thousand years; Zhongli must have seen it time and time again. But on the other hand, before adopting life as one of the humans, Rex Lapis had barely spent any time with them. He lived amongst other immortals, and while Childe didn't know the intricacies of an immortal's life, it probably didn't involve as many existential crises or thoughts of impending death. So perhaps Morax, divine and learnèd in all things, was just as inexperienced as a mortal on this matter, if not more so. This revelation, Childe found, made the old god feel so real.
But he'd known that already, hadn't he? He smiled fondly, letting his ears bathe in the honeyed timbre of Zhongli's voice. He'd known Zhongli long enough to have noticed this. He was too good to be true, and yet he was so tangible, so present, so ironically human. Maybe that was why he'd been so good at acting as one.
"…As you may be able to guess, these hammers are quite heavy," Zhongli was saying. "They must be solid and strong to complete a smith's work, but this also means they can weigh a lot. I'm sure one such as yourself would have no trouble wielding one—" an unbidden grin tugged at Childe's lips at the implied praise—"but for a regular citizen, it may take some work to be able to use one reliably. Thus, Mr. Hanfeng took to improving his muscularity. He discovered a liking for training, and began to seek out opportunities to test his strength. Not unlike someone I know, though I can't say Mr. Hanfeng went to such…drastic measures." Zhongli tossed a teasing smile his way.
"Very funny, xiansheng," Childe said, continuing to smile back even as his eyes rolled. "You love me for it."
That elicited a laugh from the adeptus, and Childe brightened to see him truly in high spirits once more. "I cannot deny it," Zhongli said through his chuckle. "Had your tendency for troublemaking been a quality I took issue with, I surely would not have funded it." His eyes meandered down to the bow in Childe's hands.
"Hmm," Childe hummed with a smirk. "Well then, what non-troublemaking methods did Mr. Hanfeng use to test his strength? Maybe I could take some notes," he offered, both of them knowing full well he would not.
Zhongli indulged him anyway with a soft snort. "I am not well acquainted with the man, so I would not be able to give you his day-to-day training schedule. Though I do recall one year in which he made a statement for himself by winning a competition."
"Oh?" Childe perked up; friendly combat (though it more often than not toed the line into real violence when he was involved) was something he absolutely relished in, and suddenly he felt quite a bit more agreeable to adopting the old smith's ways.
Zhongli nodded, not missing the way Childe lit up, based on the mirth in his expression. "Normally, this contest is not one whose results reach the masses, but this was the first year it was held, if my memory serves. It is called the Crux Clash, held by the captain of the crew that is its namesake. Mr. Hanfeng was the victor that year, receiving funds for his business as the prize, and… you are no longer interested in Mr. Hanfeng, are you?" Zhongli shook his head again, though the exasperation of the gesture contrasted with his amused tone.
"Not in the slightest," Childe agreed shamelessly. "Tell me more about this contest," he nudged, not caring how much it sounded like a beg. It was a contest! A chance to test his skills and be recognized for it! His blood sang at the prospect and he had to reign himself in to keep from bouncing on his feet. "Is it soon?"
"It is. Very soon, in fact, though… as much as I know you enjoy a challenge," Zhongli said, "the more I remember about the Crux Clash, the more my inkling that it may not be a good fit for you is increased."
"Aw, why's that?" Childe pouted.
"I believe it is… a bit below your skill level. Most of the participants are ordinary citizens," Zhongli explained. "I fear you would end up injuring them. Additionally, if I am remembering this right, the use of visions is not permitted. You would not be able to use the full extent of your abilities, as I know you enjoy doing. Come to think of it, this year's rules state that vision bearers are not allowed to sign up in the first place."
"Aw," Childe said again, his posture deflating into a dramatic slump. "Wait, this year's? So this is a new rule?"
"I do not know much about the change. I am simply recalling the information Aether mentioned to me," Zhongli said.
"Aether?" Childe's ears perked at the mention of the traveler. "He's interested too, is he?"
"Indeed." Zhongli dipped his head in a nod. "Apparently, the Crux's captain offered him safe passage to Inazuma if he is able to win the contest, so he has the intent to sign up."
Childe's grin returned. The traveler was a bit of a special case, possessing the powers of a vision bearer but through a different source. He'd experienced the blond foreigner's might in combat firsthand, but looking back on the fight, Aether had opted for mostly elemental attacks. What a treat it would be to see him fight sword-to-sword! What raw power he'd exhibit! It sent a thrill through Childe's blood. He had to see this.
He clapped his hands together, mind long made up. "Let's go watch him, then!" he grinned. "I want to see what he'll have up his sleeve."
"You wish to spectate?"
Childe nodded, practically bouncing on his heels. "It'll be fun! Plus, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't go and support him?"
"Mm." Zhongli didn't look surprised, eyes twinkling with amusement. He was probably expecting this, Childe guessed; the man knew him too well. "As long as you don't try to challenge him to a duel in the middle of the fights."
"You wound me, xiansheng," Childe said dramatically, hand going to his check in mock offense. "You know I'm better than that!"
"Are you?"
"No," Childe admitted. "But I promise I'll be on my best behavior."
Zhongli smiled. "I will hold you to your word, then. I believe the contest begins in a few days, so I will gather more information and relay it to you."
"You're the best," Childe said, nudging him with his elbow. "I'm looking forward to it!"
Zhongli dipped his head. "It is arranged." He peered down at Childe, that sweet smile warming the air. "I look forward to it as well."