author's notes: "xiao is older than venti—" LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU

TW: blood/violence (first scene only)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 4711

ESTIMATED TIME TO READ: 20-25 minutes

"I… was not honest with you."

"Huh?"

"I told you I do not know how to have a desire, but this is not true. I had a wish, once."

"What was it?"

"…Do you recall how I mentioned the flute?"

— ~ • ~ — — ~ • ~ — VII. TO THE TUNE OF THAT FLUTE — ~ • ~ — — ~ • ~ —

The first time Xiao meets the Anemo Archon is in Dihua Marsh.

Intimately familiar with each other, Xiao and destiny are ensnared in a violent, unending waltz on the ballroom floor between life and oblivion. Death's scythe always hovers just shy of his skin, a silver glint in the corner of his vision. The lingering blood on his clothes, crimson bindings that tug at his muscles, the dwindling number of Yakshas that survive the night—Teyvat seems intent on sending him countless reminders of the inevitable. He's long abandoned the hope that fate will weave him a picturesque ending.

He digs his fingers into the soil of Dihua Marsh, dirt wedging underneath his nails. The swamp grass brushes against his cheeks, coarse reeds clotted together with viscous sludge. Smeared on his arms and dried in his hair is slimy, scarlet blood. None of it is his.

Around him lies the remnants of a battlefield: blood splatters in the grass, mangled limbs oozing black smog from their tissue. An oppressive heaviness weighs down the atmosphere, leaden in his muscles, and Xiao is tired.

Cacophonous voices ring in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the marsh. Thousands of slaughtered souls scream at once, and Xiao screams along with them, clawing at his throat, moving his hands up to his ears and yanking. Xiao has never begged for anything from fate, but now he kneels over and prays that if it has any mercy at all, make it stop.

A rosy, high-pitched hum pierces through the racket. Mellow chords juxtapose the harsh wailing, high whistles soaring into lower tones. Gentle, the wind delivering the music skims past his cheeks, brushes through his matted hair, and tenderly coils around his arms. His heartbeat slows as if to match the languid tempo of the song.

Time blurs into a churning gray windstorm. The melody could've lasted a minute, an hour, or a day; the difference in duration would be unnoticeable. Drowsily, sensations crawl back into focus: aureate sunlight drizzling over the horizon, ripples in the nearby pools, crickets twittering as they awaken. The final note fades into the orchestra of the marsh. Only once heaviness trickles back into his muscles does Xiao realize it had ever been alleviated.

The identity of the musician is a mystery, but their intentions are not. An exchange—repentance in servitude, the foundation of his contract. Someone had given him more time, and Xiao only knows one way to repay it: bloodshed.

He raises his head, wrapping his fingers around his spear. Planting a foot in the mud, he stands, crimson-stained shale streaming down his spine. Though his demise may have been postponed, time will kill him eventually. But in the meantime, he has a contract to carry out.

His savior, Xiao eventually concludes, must have been the Anemo Archon. Under his previous master, Xiao slaughtered countless souls, Adepti and minor gods among them; the sole being powerful enough to liberate him went on to become one of the Seven. Only an Archon would strive to save a weapon such as Xiao—who else would find use in a vessel for karmic corruption? By that logic, his celestial guardian must possess three qualifications: associations with wind, reasonable proximity, and musical abilities.

Considering the Anemo Archon is a wind spirit, visits Liyue regularly, always ends the Seven's gatherings with a ballad, and glances at Xiao for a little too long, he figures his conclusion is valid.

Even so, he's unsure what exactly the Anemo Archon has to gain from saving him. From what Xiao knows of Mondstadt, the land is surprisingly peaceful in the wake of the Archon War, even without any divine protectors equivalent to the Yaksha. The Anemo Archon himself isn't hasty to provide answers. For all his trips to Liyue, he doesn't engage with Xiao in anything more than lingering eye contact.

After enough subtle-but-not-subtle glances, the Anemo God finally makes a move. Rex Lapis invites the Adepti for a meal, Yaksha included. For some unknown reason, the Anemo Archon makes an appearance as well, easily charming the Adepti with his melodies and alcohol. Xiao spends the gathering perched on a stone, close enough to overhear the conversation but far enough to avoid getting dragged into it. Throughout the meal, he feels the Archon's eyes boring holes into his back.

As the discussion winds down and people begin excusing themselves, Xiao—having closed his eyes, allowing the steady stream of dialogue to wash over him—expects Bosacius' signature electric energy to approach him. Instead, he feels the air shift behind him, and Xiao instinctively summons his spear, driving it backwards.

The motion halts. He glances over his shoulder to see the Anemo Archon standing behind him, lips quirked into an amused smile. Loose, white fabric drapes over his small stature, fluttering delicately in the breeze. Glaze lillies weave between his braids, petals half-unfurled from his earlier symphonies. Held rigid between his fingers is the shaft of Xiao's polearm. "I believe this is our first time meeting. Do you always assault new friends as a greeting?"

What a first impression Xiao's made: attacking one of the Seven—the one who saved his life, no less—then staring at him in horror, frozen in place. As the silence drags on, the Anemo God's grin pulls wider, eyes sparkling with entertainment. "Not receptive to my teasing?"

The Archon releases his grip on Xiao's spear, the tip tilting towards the ground. Dazedly, Xiao dissolves his weapon into sparks. He manages to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth, hanging his head. "Forgive my disrespect."

"Forgive me for startling you." Eyes trained on the boulder below him, Xiao watches the Archon's shadow shift, sleeves flittering in the breeze. "I'd like to offer you an exchange. Liyue is the nation of exchanges, yes?"

A contract. Familiar. Xiao had been waiting for the Archon to set his terms—his life in exchange for service. "I accept."

Xiao lifts his head. Gazing up through his lashes, chin propped up by his palm, smile stretched wide enough to show his teeth—the Anemo Archon steals the air from Xiao's lungs, and a turbulent maelstrom of emotion brews in his sky-eyes. Sincerity, intrigue, and the fading daylight paint the god's figure in shades of gold. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head, braids swaying lightly with the movement. "Barbatos is my name. May I have the honor of knowing yours?"

He blinks. All the Anemo God wants as remuneration for Xiao's life is… his name? No—contracts are like scales: the terms must be balanced. If one party offers something of greater value or quantity than the other, the pact is inequitable. By saving Xiao's life, the Anemo Archon has already fulfilled his side of the exchange; it's Xiao who must offer consideration. But since Barbatos put forth an offer of his own—his name—then this must be a new, separate transaction, a clause of the larger contract. "Adeptus Xiao."

Pleased, Barbatos turns his gaze to the landscape beyond Xiao, eyes tracking the downward movement of the sun. "Fancy a nighttime stroll?"

"Nighttime is when demons are the most active. I must remain vigilant at all times."

"Is that so?" Barbatos glances at him from the corner of his eyes, lips pulled in an ever-present, mischievous smile. "In that case, by 'fancy a stroll' I meant 'oh Illuminated Adeptus, please offer this pitiful foreigner your protection as he embarks on a dangerous trek through Jueyun Karst!'"

In the distance, Bosacius and Rex Lapis are locked in conversation; Xiao catches them not-so-subtly glancing over, watching Barbatos with curiosity and encouragement, making no move to intervene. If neither of them take issue with Xiao spending the night playing bodyguard… "I will ensure your safety."

"Splendid!" Barbatos spins on his heel, broad wings nearly bashing into Xiao's side. Stiffly, the Adeptus trails after him. "Xiao, do you happen to know the tallest mountain in Liyue?"

"Qingyun Peak."

"Shall we climb to the summit? I'm curious as to how the wind feels at a higher altitude."

"I have no complaints."

"I have one." Barbatos stops suddenly, whirling to face Xiao. Hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised—he's the perfect picture of indignant. "I requested an escort, not a shadow. In fact, if we continue following my lead, we'll only end up lost!"

Has he incurred the Anemo Archon's ire? Xiao bows his head, sidestepping Barbatos' wings. "I did not realize you wanted my guidance."

"My words aren't often straightforward, or so I've been told," Barbatos quips, his laughter tinkling like wind chimes. "Your expertise will be most helpful indeed. I'm unaccustomed to navigating such mountainous landscapes."

Curiosity piqued, Xiao hesitantly asks, "Does Mondstadt not have mountains?"

Barbatos hums noncommittally, swinging his arms back and forth. "Not anymore."

The Archon doesn't elaborate, so Xiao turns his gaze back to the pathway ahead. Unlit lanterns dot the trail while golden flowers glimmer in the dark, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone walkway. Their pilgrimage is quiet save for the occasional clink of Xiao's mask against his hip. He listens for any malignant spirits, but all he can sense is the Anemo Archon's carefree, balmy aura.

Finally, the path disappears into a sealed Adeptal abode. Xiao faces the Archon. "The pathway ends here. We'll have to climb to reach the mountaintop."

Trekking after him, Barbatos cranes his neck to look at the looming cliffs. He glances back down, cheeky grin splitting across his face. "Fear not! I have a solution!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Barbatos closes the distance between them, launching the both of them into the air. He overshoots, the powerful blast propelling them above the mountaintops. After ungracefully flailing his limbs, Xiao drives forwards into a teal dash, landing on the pinnacle of Qingyun Peak. The Archon touches down behind him, snickering behind his hands. Xiao faces him with a scowl, but his annoyance dissipates quickly.

The horizon line stretches infinitely, terrain blurred slightly by a layer of feathery clouds. At this height, the gale blows wildly, and the petals in Barbatos' hair vigorously wave. The god spins in a slow circle, drinking in the sights. "This would make for a lovely ballad, no? Where the clouds and horizon line meet, jagged mountains pierce the wispy sheets. Moonlight beams, twilight is nigh; could we pluck the stars from the sky?" He looks at Xiao over his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "What do you think?"

"Poetic. I expect no less from the patron God of Song."

"Why, thank you." He giggles, twisting to gaze out over the edge, his back to Xiao. After a brief stretch of silence, he asks, "Do you have a favorite song?"

"I do not have a preference for one tune over another."

"Is that so?" Skepticism colors his voice.

Is this prompting… Xiao suddenly understands why one might call Barbatos the opposite of 'straightforward.' Voice and expression not betraying anything, Xiao can't tell what the Anemo Archon is waiting for. Does he too feel as though they're striding across a tightrope, unsaid words hanging between them? Is he remaining silent on purpose, or is he also waiting for the other to initiate first?

"There is… one melody I recall more clearly than the rest," Xiao prods, unsteady.

"Oh?" Barbatos replies, earnestly curious and one step ahead all in the same breath. "Do you happen to know this song's name?"

"No, I do not."

"Hm… well, you're in luck!" Barbatos spins to face him, clapping his hands. "You just so happen to be in the company of Mondstadt's greatest musician! Tell me what you recall about this tune."

Patience is a virtue Xiao knows well. He's learnt to exist in the limbo space between the present and the inevitable. Xiao knows how to dance with uncertainty—the same way he knows how to dance with futility, with death. But trying to dance around the gigantic elephant in the room? At some point, the elephant will become impossible to ignore; Xiao decides the time is now.

He lowers to his knees. "Lord Barbatos, I am forever in your debt."

Immediately, it becomes apparent that this was the wrong thing to say. Barbatos stumbles backwards, face scrunching up in a mixture of shock and horror. "Huh?"

"The melody I am envisioning… it prevented me from succumbing to my karmic debt. In exchange for sparing my life in Dihua Marsh, I owe you service however you see fit."

A muddled vortex comprised of fifty different emotions gyrates in Barbatos' eyes, each individual reaction appearing and disappearing too quickly for Xiao to discern. For half a second, the storm stills as the Archon seems to come to some sort of internal resolve—then his gaze settles on Xiao, innocently confused. "Dihua Marsh? You'll have to remind me where that is."

A seed of doubt buries itself between his ribs. Could Xiao have been wrong about the Anemo Archon being the flute player? "Between Stone Gate and Guili Plains."

"Ah, Stone Gate." Barbatos taps his chin with a finger, looking off to the side in contemplation. "I do indeed remember playing a tune one night by my lonesome. Perhaps the wind believed I needed an audience and brought my music to you?"

Xiao ducks his head, hiding the Anemo Archon from view. "Coincidence or not, I owe you a great debt."

With Barbatos silent and out of sight, it's easy for Xiao to forget where he is and who's before him. He pictures a different scenario: kneeling on a battlefield, smoke in his lungs, the contender for Geo Archon looming over him and saying, "You are forged in cruelty, doused in death. Since slaughtered souls cling to your constitution, the price of your life is a cumulation of those you've killed. As the God of Contracts, I'll grant you the opportunity to repay that debt by serving me."

But this grass is not speckled with blood, the air is not sooty, and Lord Barbatos is not Rex Lapis. "The God of Freedom should lessen your chains, not add more. I reject your offer."

Stillness. Both Xiao and the world hold their breaths. The Anemo Archon sought him out, invited him alone on an evening stroll… for what? What else could be possibly want him for if not his diligence? Chest constricted, his voice comes out stuttered, taut. "I… I don't understand."

"You will one day," Barbatos replies gently, just a hint too certain for comforting placations. "For now… it's a contract you seek, correct? I have an alternative proposal."

He sets his hands beside Xiao's own, prompting him to raise his head. Barbatos kneels in front of him, his eye-line slightly below Xiao's own. "In exchange for your gratitude, I'll consider your debt repaid. Deal?"

The string that was holding everything rigid snaps. Overwhelmed with vertigo, Xiao immediately protests. "This contract is far too unbalanced. My life cannot possibly hold the same value as a few thankful words."

"Aren't I the one who gets to decide what's valuable enough to fulfill this contract?" Barbatos asks patiently.

"I… yes."

"Then I've set my terms. Do you accept my contract or not?"

The Anemo God raises one of his hands, poised for the taking. With the stars as his witness, Xiao simultaneously ties and unties himself to the wind.

Barbatos turns to the scenery, eyes alight with joy. "This location truly is majestic. I'll have to return another day and witness how the mountains look during sunrise."

Tongue still stiff, Xiao slowly murmurs, "I do not think Rex Lapis will prohibit you from visiting again."

Barbatos laughs, unadulterated. "Even if he did, I wouldn't follow what that old blockhead says! Hm… but what if I forget the route?" He glances at Xiao out the corner of his eye. "We can't have me getting lost now, can we?"

The Anemo Archon sure seems to enjoy heavily implying over outright asking. "Whenever you need me, I will accompany you."

"It's settled then." Cheeks rounded, smile wide, and eyes closed—delight radiates off the Anemo Archon in the same way that moonlight glints in the night: infectious, a beacon for the dark. "I look forward to our next moonlit rendezvous."

Ever since then, the Anemo Archon makes a show of visiting Xiao whenever he swings by Liyue, treating his appearances like a one-man game of 'how much chaos can I cause this time around?' Xiao chaperones him as he explores the highlands, and Barbatos fills their time together with music. Sometimes, he successfully ropes Xiao into drinking with him. The first time Xiao gets drunk, Rex Lapis almost squashes the Anemo God in retaliation; the occurrence likely constitutes the origin story of one of Liyue's mountains. Barbatos comes and goes like the wind: fleeting, unreachable, yet always there when he needs him most.

Case-in-point: the present.

"My, my, you're quite the musician! I'd love to chat—with your permission."

Although Xiao startles at the sound of his voice—somehow, the Anemo Archon always manages to sneak up on him should he wish to, Xiao's excellent situational awareness be damned—his presence doesn't surprise him. Barbatos perches on the bannister, his back to Xiao. The silver moon, creeping up the sky, frames his head like a halo.

"I've gotta admit," Barbatos begins, swinging his legs back and forth to an inaudible rhythm, "when a little wind wisp told me that your contract had ended, I almost couldn't believe it. First I hear rumors that our old Blockhead is stepping down, and now you too? This is the sort of thing that would give a mortal a heart attack. If my youthful heart ever starts failing me, I know exactly who to blame."

"Your heart is older than mine, Lord Barbatos."

The Anemo Archon snorts, twisting to face him with mock-offense written over his face. "We haven't seen each other in hundreds of years, and the first thing you do is call me old? Also, none of that 'lord' nonsense." The lines of his smile haven't changed—dimple etched into his left cheek, eyes crinkled at the edges—embodying the dichotomy of flawless divinity and temporal humanity. "Just Venti is fine."

"To travel all this way…" Xiao rolls the flute between his fingers, "you must have been struck by new inspiration."

Venti's grin turns cheshire. "A bard's gotta voyage to where the best stories are, no? Speaking of which, how are you feeling? Is the lazy life treating you well?"

Xiao clenches and unclenches his jaw, feeling the groves of the dizi underneath his finger-pads. Wangshu Inn's crickets chirr, and Venti taps his finger on the railing, following their tempo. After the beats of silence drag on for longer than socially acceptable, Xiao mentally abandons his half-construed sentences for an apology. "Forgive my slowness. I have not yet attempted to articulate my findings."

"Don't worry about that." Venti raises a hand, laying it over his heart. "An experienced bard such as myself will have no trouble deciphering your nonsense."

At Xiao's unimpressed glower, the bard grins and twists back to face the terrain, giving him the semblance of privacy. He ducks his head, piecing together how to begin. "…Do you recall the time I pledged my service to you in exchange for my salvation?"

"I do. I also distinctly remember rejecting that offer," Venti reminds.

Xiao nods. "Rex Lapis made a similar refusal. After rescuing me in the Chasm, he declared my contract void as to 'not repeat his mistakes' of chaining me to carnage. I told him I did not view my contract as a shackle."

Venti hums, tinged with skepticism. Xiao reiterates, "I truly did not. I willingly decided to engage in perpetual war. The contract was not my chain." He tucks the flute back into the folds of his sash, stepping forward to drape his arms over the railing. "Existence was."

"Time truly is the enemy of all immortals," Venti agrees, wistful. "Yet, it doesn't sound as though you disapprove of Morax prolonging your life—not with you enduring all this hassle just for him to accept your thanks…"

He trails off. Answering his unspoken question, Xiao says, "I believe Rex Lapis thought life should offer itself to me, rather than other way around."

Venti waves a hand, dismissive. "Yes, but I'm not asking what Morax thinks. I'm asking what you think." He faces Xiao again, tilting his head. "Xiao, do you want to live?"

Once, Xiao would've replied with something along the lines of: it's not a matter of wanting and not wanting but opposing or not opposing; I'll make no move to die, but I'll make no move to live, either. A life with no desire is colorless, a blurred, monotonous catatonia with only crimson blood to punctuate it—and when bloodshed is a daily occurrence, even those hues become indistinct.

But now, with his ambition no longer obstructed, Xiao wants fiercely. He wants to dine with the Wangshu Inn staff; wants to master the bow with Ganyu's guidance; wants to thank Hu Tao for her part in exposing him to the dizi; wants to listen to Kazuha play tree leaves—whatever that entails; wants to witness Chongyun's progress, how he fairs when he encounters a spirit for the first time; wants to explore the harbor with Yanfei and Yelan; and at last, wants to hear Venti play the flute again. Unprecedentedly, his reality has vibrant color, distinction, and stimulus. Yes, time will erode this too eventually, but in the meantime…

"Yes," Xiao responds confidently. "I do now."

The smile Venti flashes him is achingly fond. "Even a millennia of horror and bloodshed cannot taint your craving for life. That's very human of you, Xiao. I believe Liyue would be honored to protect such a pure wish."

"This… purity you speak of," Xiao's eyes dart across the picture below them: jagged mountains and lulling ponds, golden lanterns at the base of the inn, the quiet hum of mortal presences, "is why we envy mortal lives. As longevity becomes a heavier chain, humanity's hope becomes a brighter inspiration."

"So," Venti's dangling legs move back and forth like a pendulum, "you understand why Liyue is willing to shoulder your former responsibility."

Rex Lapis once shared a saying with the Adepti: ashes to ashes, dust to dust—all things will eventually return to the earth. Cyclical, time churns in an ouroboros, and fate always comes full circle.

Faith, happiness, the desire to live—as long as Liyue could freely indulge in these ideals, Xiao would bear as much carnage as he needed to. Mirrored: the desire to live, happiness, faith—as long as Xiao wishes to live leisurely, Liyue will carry as much of his burden as it has to. Those principles—arbitrary and human—can bring value to Xiao as well.

"This contract is far too unbalanced. My life cannot possibly hold the same value as a few thankful words."

"Aren't I the one who gets to decide what's valuable enough to fulfill this contract?"

"Ah," Xiao breathes, "this is what you meant when you said I'd understand someday. The balance between me and Liyue… it is not unequal."

Venti beams. "Consider it Liyue paying you back for your years of service!"

Xiao huffs something close to a laugh. "They have no obligation to repay me. My service was to repay them as penance for my sins."

Venti swings his legs to the inner side of the bannister, head fully tilted back, gazing straight up at the stars. "Considering that Morax abolished your contract, I'd say he considers your sins repaid. I believe you've atoned. The Traveler believes you've atoned. The people of Liyue believe you've atoned. There's only one person still chaining yourself to this contract." His eyes lazily trace the paneling of Wangshu Inn, eventually landing on…

"Me," Xiao says.

Venti regards him quietly, his eyes filled with a soft, kind warmth layered over an undercurrent of pensive solemnity. His lips are still pulled in that ever-present smile, this time colored with melancholy. The nighttime breeze slows. Eventually, he decides to speak: "Do you understand why I led you to believe that day in Dihua Marsh was a coincidence?"

For a moment, all is still; then, the wind rushes back into motion, and Xiao whips to face the Anemo Archon. He finds his tongue, "I always knew that was you."

Barbatos nods. "I may have saved your life then, but you made the choice to stand up again that day. Rex Lapis may have terminated your contract, but you made the decision to embark on a journey of self-discovery. You are here now because of your own spirit, determination, and desire. Every conclusion you have made and every feeling you have felt is your own. You are your own savior. You owe no-one but yourself."

The silence lingers between them as his words sink in, comfortably settling somewhere amidst the fissures of Xiao's former mentality. Barbatos leans back, moonlight accenting the slope of his shoulders, made broader by his aquamarine cape's cut. "You know, they say the best stories circle back to the beginning. Answer me this: why did Yanfei, Yelan, and the Traveler fight so valiantly to convince you to value your life in the Chasm?"

It's the same reason Liyue assumed his duty, the same reason Rex Lapis retired, the same reason Barbatos gave his nation the authority to rule themselves. Responsibility is intrinsically tied with freedom; the red strings of fate lie in the hands of their recipient. "Because no matter how much they begged, none of them could stop my sacrifice. Only I could choose to live."

"Similarly," Barbatos walks his fingers across the railing until his hand rests beside Xiao's, "you are the only one who can choose to be free."

Xiao looks down at his hands, bathed in silver moonlight rather than crimson blood. He thinks of Rex Lapis kneeling in the grass of Mount Aocang, the Traveler tugging him close amidst the Chasm's mining equipment. He thinks of almond tofu and hilichurl targets and flutes and dreams and friends. He thinks: I fought for Liyue's freedom, and I am a part of Liyue. And to solidify it, Xiao softly declares, "I have fulfilled my contract. I am free."

The tangerine sunrise drips summery watercolor onto the qingxin petals, painting the white flower field in a warm film. Stretching out to the horizon, the flowers liquify into the golden rays of sun. Xiao stands among them, the petals tenderly brushing his calves. His mask rests against his hipbone.

"I take it," Rex Lapis begins, sitting amid chalky petals, "you had a purpose for meeting with me today?"

Back turned to the god, Xiao watches the sun climb its way up the sky. "I want to thank you for saving my life in the Chasm."

He faces Rex Lapis. "What purpose does Rex Lapis serve in the dawn of mankind? What purpose does a slaughterer serve in times of peace? The answer is simple: none. However, while Rex Lapis and the Vigilant Yaksha may no longer hold value to Liyue," they meet eyes, marigold melting into marigold, sunrise in sunset, "Zhongli and Xiao's worth is priceless and precious."

He bows forward, hands clasped together. "Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to understand this. Thank you for saving me that day."

"Only once you understand the value of your life will I accept your thanks for saving it."

At last, Zhongli smiles. "You are welcome."

With that acceptance and the sunrise behind him, his journey finally draws to a close. Xiao straightens. "I have one final request. I want," waving a hand across his face, the familiar weight of his mask slips over his features, "for you to witness this moment."

Carried along the wind, soothing dizi notes cue a dance—not with death, not with futility, but with the qingxin petals that sway along with his movements, and the amber gingko leaves that flutter in the breeze.