Archive of Our Own ^beta

Adepti were creatures of habit. When one lived for a thousand or so years, picking up a habit or two or a hundred came naturally. Changing or breaking them, however, was nearly impossible.

Every morning, Ganyu woke at the crack of dawn. With hands loosely clasped together, Ganyu wordlessly bowed her head in reverence and kneeled for a silent prayer to Rex Lapis. She did not ask for much, as usual.

Peace and quiet. Safety and prosperity, for Liyue and Her people. Another productive day, for herself and the rest of the Qixing. Rex Lapis’ continued guidance. Sweet dreams. 

Simple things were all she could ask for. 

Ganyu rose to her feet, slow and solemn.

“For Liyue. For Rex Lapis.” A soft whisper fell from her lips, her faith renewed. 

This had to be a dream. 

"Rex Lapis has watched over Liyue for a millennium. But what about the next millennium? What about the next ten, or the next hundred millennia? How long are we expecting this status quo to last?"

Ganyu openly gaped at the pedestal in shock. Her mind was slow to process but the eyes of the woman dressed in fine, purple silk robes kept reaffirming that, yes, that was exactly what the newly appointed Yuheng just said during the sacred Rite of Descension. 

That the scene in front of her was not just a dream.

Rex Lapis seemed to have recovered first and Ganyu braced herself for the earth underneath them to split asunder, the wrath of a god to fall on the treacherous mortal—

Only for him to laugh so heartily that the sky itself shook.

The woman with eyes of a brewing storm, lifted her gaze from the people and glared at the god Himself. She challenged Him, dared Him to try, and it just seemed so absurd to think that she could even prove to be a match. The very sight of it—of her—elicited another gasp of disbelief from both Ganyu and the rest of the crowd. Ganyu snuck a glance at the Tianquan, who was only recently elected into the Qixing about a year or two prior—but the Tianquan hid her expression behind a fan. Her golden amber eyes betrayed her cool facade however, and Ganyu could see the shock—and amusement? Why?—swirling behind them.

The new Yuheng, so prideful and so naive, only huffed indignantly before she turned on her heel and strided back into the Yuehai Pavilion with clipped, confident steps without another word. She beckoned at her assistants with a snap of her wrist, who clamored to her side as she set forth to start blazing her trail.

She who burned so brightly that Ganyu had to shield her eyes from the sight of her.

(Who will be scorched first? Liyue and Her people or this blistering star of a woman?)

The rest of the day came and went in a numb buzz that Ganyu could hardly comprehend what was going on. 

That night, she sought out her god.

“Why?” Ganyu gasped. The emotions that churned in her chest were too hard to describe. Who was this woman? What were these feelings that gripped her so violently? “How did someone like her become elected into the Qixing? As the Yuheng even?”

And why did Rex Lapis choose to approve it? 

Rex Lapis, ever patient, chuckled. There it was again, just like with the Tianquan, the hint of amusement like shadows behind His eyes. 

Ganyu frowned.

“Humans as daunting as her are hard to come by,” He said instead, for once not answering her pleas, lips curled back and revealing rows of sharp, serpentine teeth. “How interesting. Ganyu.”

“Yes, my Lord?” 

“Do you recall your contract with me?”

How could she ever forget? She nodded. “To watch over Liyue. To protect it, should anything were to threaten Her and Her prosperity.”

She swallowed thickly, fingers clenching at the empty air. It was such a long time since she last drew her bow. But habits were hard to break, even after a thousand or two years. In times of crisis, Ganyu the half-adeptus struck many dissenters down. She never liked it, the sensation of death by her hands and the feeling of souls slipping past her fingertips, but should it be deemed necessary at the wish of her God—

An enigmatic smile graced His features and she was reminded of the Tianquan for just a moment—this expression of the god too, like the mortal, Ganyu could not comprehend either. Perhaps she never will. “Watch over this curious one.”

The sceptic? The one attempting to radicalize Liyue from the inside-out?

“Indeed. Pay close attention to this one. She will most certainly be a great asset for Liyue’s future.”

Once and now twice, the new Yuheng had made her question her faith in Rex Lapis.

Ganyu shook her head. No, no. 

Furrowing her brows, she hid a growing frown with a low bow at the waist.

“Yes, I will.” 

Keqing descended onto the Harbor like lightning crashing onto the shore. Each of her steps was a step towards an era of change, towards a new horizon, and Ganyu could barely keep pace.

(The feeling of being left behind was oh so lonely too, so Ganyu tirelessly chased for her coattails.)

The Yuheng came and went around Yujing Terrace like a flash. How could anyone catch her when she worked with such an urgency; a ravenous hunger that craved for loftier heights, for unimaginable sights? How could someone like Ganyu, who was tasked with the nearly impossible task to watch the Yuheng’s every move, when all that remained were her footsteps like retreating thunder and the scent of rain and lightning?

The scent of ozone wafted in the air.

Ganyu barely had time to react before—

“Here.”

Ganyu jerked her head up in attention when a stack of papers was unceremoniously dumped on her desk.

Keqing, hand on her hip and stormy eyes piercing, stared back at her. Ganyu did not hear her enter her office.

“Ah.” Ganyu thumbed through the papers, brows furrowing deeper and deeper the more she skimmed through the contents. She turned to the Yuheng, ingraining her image into her mind for the umpteenth time in case she disappeared again. “Um, Your Eminence...?”

Truth be told, the Yuheng’s appearance was as striking as the first time she laid eyes on her; Ganyu took note of that as she stood intimidatingly in front of her. A deep shade of lunar violet tights that accentuated the curves of toned legs with an intricate pattern of gold above the knee. The dark mauve of her overcoat, impeccably crisp, was gilded along the edges to match the golden accessory clipped to the sash of her front. The light hue of her top nicely complemented her lovely lavender hair, trimmed to frame her face and fell behind her back in soft waves from her twin-tails.

Despite how worn it appeared, it was the hairpin that completed the look; Keqing probably knew that as well, as she was never seen without one. But what was most captivating was her piercing sharp eyes, burning with an intensity that never failed to make Ganyu feel like she was strapped underneath a microscope with no escape. 

“Yes?”

Ganyu blinked at the clipped tone, momentarily losing her train of thought when she averted her gaze back to the papers. “Are these to be filed?”

Keqing scowled and the Yuheng’s displeasure only confused Ganyu more. “Obviously not. I wouldn’t give you these documents now just so you can store them for later.”

“But…” She flipped through the sheets again to confirm. “These papers are about the street renovations to be made around the Chihu Rock neighborhoods slated for next year. These—a proposal to survey the lands near Sal Terrace and Yaoguang Shoal for possible salt mining operations and employment? To be completed within the next two years? And this one—an analysis of Liyue’s future employment potential within the next ten years?”

Discreetly, Ganyu scanned it again for any suspicious writings of overthrowing the gods, a hint of a plot against Rex Lapis. There was nothing to be found except pages among pages of observations, calculations, and detailed specifications.

She looked up again, finding the Yuheng’s impatient gaze boring into her. Ganyu fidgeted in her seat, completely unused to the feeling of being watched. 

Wait, wasn’t she supposed to be the one that was watching her...?

She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders, meeting Keqing head-on. The Yuheng seemed pleased at that.

“One must always be thinking about the future if one wants to pursue continued success and growth,” Keqing said. 

“But how does one begin to predict the future when it constantly shifts and changes like the tides?” Ganyu shot back.

“Don’t worry about that.” Keqing dumped another pile of papers onto her desk. “I’ve already accounted for the most likely possibilities, as outlined here.”

Ganyu leafed through them, flabbergasted. When did she compile such an extensive amount of research in such a short amount of time? But the question still remained. “So… what would you have me do with these?”

Keqing tapped her foot impatiently and Ganyu felt her blood pressure rise. “Start the preliminary process for each of them, of course! At the pace that Liyue Harbor is growing, we’ll need to start thinking about expansion out into the Guili Plains for more housing. I’m thinking we can start with a small housing community to test some experimental architectural plans.”

“Experimental?”

“Indeed. That means revisiting the building codes and making revisions better suited for the current and future generations. First, we need to test the soil to ensure the foundation is stable, including soil salinity concentrations. This goes for both the Harbor’s proposed expansion plan and a coastal community near Yaoguang Shoal, as both sites are close to the ocean—take special care of the areas around the Shoal.” 

“O-of course.”

“As for the current architectural blueprints, I added some suggestions to improve them.”

Ganyu frowned. “What’s wrong with the current ones? We’ve been using the Rex Lapis house design as tradition, not to mention that they’re the most structurally sound designs in Liyue. Perhaps more so when compared to the ones of Mondstadt.”

Keqing shook her head. “It’s too wasteful. Perhaps after the Archon War, a more robust house might’ve been more beneficial, but that’s simply not the case anymore. Both the Harbor and the areas around the Qiongji Estuary are not near major fault lines either. There’s no need for so much material to go into the framing alone.”

“That doesn’t mean that an earthquake can’t ever happen here,” Ganyu huffed. “Rex Lapis had already accounted for the foreseeable and the unforeseeable when He passed this knowledge down to humanity.”

“That was thousands of years ago. There’s plenty of things, geographically and otherwise, that have changed since then. We have to account for the needs of the people of today.”

“Why change what’s not broken? These structures have consistently withstood the test of time and are signature to Liyue’s architectural culture.”

Keqing folded her arms across her chest, irritation written all over her features. “‘But how does one begin to predict the future when it constantly shifts and changes like the tides?’—You just said that yourself, did you not? What makes Rex Lapis an exception to this then? There’s always room for improvement.”

“I—” Ganyu stopped herself with a harsh exhale. She said instead, “I haven’t received any complaints about the current housing now, so I can only submit these documents for review at the moment. But I will not approve of any new construction projects until the rest of the Qixing does. I am still in favor of leaving the traditional housing designs as is; having a more sound structure is better in the long-term than a more flimsy one.”

Keqing narrowed her eyes. Ganyu tensed under the intensity of her harsh gaze but refused to cower at her scrutiny.

She came to know that look very well. It was the same one that promised another argument, another debate over the workings of Rex Lapis, another back-and-forth of whys and why nots. 

Another day of overtime.

“Who said that my design is ‘more flimsy’?” Keqing said heatedly. Then to Ganyu’s dismay, Keqing pulled out a chair to sit across from her at the desk. Keqing took back a stack of papers to flip to a specific page. “Look here at my comparative analysis into seismic force and lateral load bearing, between Rex Lapis’ models and my redesigns—”

Ganyu bit the inside of her cheek.

Oh Archons. 

“Y’know,” Beidou said as she finished the last of her jueyun chili chicken, peeking out from their booth to give Xiangling a quick thumbs-up from the other side of the kitchen bar, who returned it with a wide grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get so riled up before.”

Ganyu took care not to rudely slam her empty cup of baijiu on the table. When a current of exasperation welled at her throat, she ended up slamming it down anyway. “I just can’t stand how disrespectful she is!”

Beidou hummed thoughtfully, sipping at her own cup. “My crewmates aren’t the most devout of men either, but we’ve all heard the rumors about this new Yuheng. She really is something else. Gutsy, I think.”

Ganyu scoffed. She poured herself another cup and chugged it. “Sure. If that's what you want to call it.”

Beidou laughed. “Don’t be mad, but I actually like people like her. Quick to get straight to the point, eager to get things done, and has a strong sense of direction.”

“You only like her because she’s the only one that doesn’t lecture you whenever you get caught doing something you’re not supposed to again.”

“Well, yeah! All she gives me is a little stink-eye and points me directly to the Jade Chamber. Whenever you or the Millelith catch me, I have to sit and listen to the same dusty old spiel before you let me go to the Tianquan.”

“It’s protocol,” Ganyu said simply, albeit weakly. Despite Ganyu herself acknowledging the contributions that Beidou and the rest of the Crux had made in the shadows for Liyue, it was still hard to sway the unsavory opinions of their critics. 

“I won’t go out my way to tell you that you should try to act chummy with her,” Beidou said, “but I think you two might be more similar than you think.”

Ganyu grimaced. “You’re joking.” 

Beidou shrugged noncommittally. “One day, whenever you’re ready for it, have a drink with her. Alcohol does wonders for making the most uptight of people speak their mind a little more honestly.” 

“I think she’s plenty honest as is,” Ganyu muttered into the rim of her cup.

Beidou laughed again. “Ain’t that the truth! Here.” She lifted her cup for a toast. “To good friends and to not pissing off our bosses—cheers!”

Ganyu cracked a smile at that. “Cheers.”

Adepti were creatures of habit.

Changes to her habits were rare when she worked like clockwork for so long. So long, in fact, that Ganyu did not register the discrepancy at first when it slipped into her routine.

Every morning since the new Yuheng’s induction into the Qixing, Ganyu woke slightly earlier than the crack of dawn. With hands loosely clasped together, Ganyu wordlessly bowed her head in reverence and kneeled for a silent prayer to Rex Lapis. She then paused for a second, worried if maybe she was asking for a little too much but continued anyway. 

Peace and quiet. Safety and prosperity, for Liyue and Her people. Another productive day, for herself and the rest of the Qixing. Rex Lapis’ continued guidance. Sweet dreams. 

For her encounters with the Yuheng to be quick and painless.

Simple things were all she could ask for. 

Ganyu rose to her feet and sucked in a breath.

“For Liyue. For Rex Lapis.” A soft whisper fell from her lips, her faith renewed, and her mind steeled.

In all her thousands-long years of life, Ganyu never thought she’d see the day that Rex Lapis would step down as the Geo Archon. Never did she also think that she’d see another god-monster of the wars of old, revived and threatening catastrophe to her beloved Liyue.

Almost immediately after the incident of the Fatui and Osial the sea-god, Keqing approached her with hastily-written plans and blueprints.

“I need these approved as soon as possible. Have it back at my desk immediately.” Was all she said before taking off again.

Ganyu would’ve swept Keqing’s papers to the bottom of her pile—unless stated otherwise, Ganyu’s priorities were on a first come, first served basis (no bias, honestly!)—if her eyes didn’t happen to catch a glimpse of the abstract.

Parts of the Chihu Rock district were flooded.

Osial’s revival and the ensuing fight brewed up extremely unnatural rainfall and tsunamis. When the high waves crashed onto shore, not only did it destroy a good portion of the docks and storefronts, but also flooded nearby residential neighborhoods.

Thus, Keqing had reasoned, when she sat in front of Ganyu and the rest of the Qixing, Liyue needed more space to not only accommodate the nation’s growing population but to also set up temporary housing until Chihu Rock was back in order.

Keqing’s proposition was immediately approved and Ganyu, as always, was in charge of supporting the new construction projects with the Yuheng.

Or she should be, if it were not for the enormous mountains of papers stacked on her desk and overflowed into piles scattered around the floor. Even Ningguang seemed concerned, by the way that her brows furrowed as she maneuvered around them. 

“Say, Ganyu. I’m sure you’re already aware but I feel the need to remind you,” Ningguang started, blowing a ring of smoke after a long drag from her pipe—with Liyue’s economy left in uncertainty and the loss of her beloved Jade Chamber, Ningguang had it especially rough. Ganyu couldn’t help but worry a bit for the Tianquan’s lungs. “You’re free to join Keqing at any time. From the way that you’ve been cooped up in your office for so long, a little bit of sunshine will do you some good.”

Ganyu reflexively sat upright in her chair, suddenly aware that she was caught slouching right in front of the Tianquan. “T-that’s alright. I’ve still yet to look at the quarterly financial report that you sent to me the other day.”

“As much as it may surprise you for me to say this, but the reports can wait. They won’t do me any good in the near future anyway,” Ningguang said, taking back said reports from Ganyu’s stack. “If you still feel compelled to complete this task however, I believe your assistants are more than qualified to review them in your stead.”

Ganyu recoiled. She knew that her usual turnaround times were severely delayed nowadays. “Are you suggesting that my work is inadequate, my lady?”

Ningguang reached across the table to pry Ganyu’s pen out of her tightly-clenched fingers. “Never—you’ve always completed your work thoroughly and with great care. There’s no one else here in all of Liyue that can come close to your level of professionalism.” She set the pen down, deliberately out of the secretary’s reach. “Besides, aren’t you collaborating with Keqing’s housing project? I don’t recall seeing you setting a foot out of your office once.”

Ganyu looked down at her desk, at her hands. Now, she held nothing. “I haven’t gotten a chance to. There’s so much work from the other departments to catch up on and…”

“Then consider yourself excused from your office for the rest of the day, for a break.” 

Could she afford to take a break when everyone in the Pavilion was hard at work? 

Ningguang didn’t give her an option to protest. “Even just for a short while, take a stroll by the ports. It’ll sate your curiosity, since you seem so intrigued.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been on your mind, hasn’t it? What exactly Keqing has in store for Liyue.”

.

.

. 

Ganyu spotted a flash of lavender from her peripherals when she crossed the intersection between the docks. She called out. “Lady Yuheng!”

Keqing froze momentarily, as if snapped out of a spell, and turned to her direction. Instead of waiting for Ganyu to catch up, Keqing briskly jogged to her instead. “Ganyu? Is something the matter? An emergency?”

“Nothing’s wrong, my lady.” Ganyu studied Keqing for a moment, curious. She was not dressed in her usual purple silken robes. Instead, she wore simple clothes made of samite and carried a sturdy linen rucksack. “I’ve come to join you, if you need any help.”

She left out the part that Ningguang essentially forced her out of her office. Her hands itched with the need to do something with them.

Keqing looked at her, cautious and doubtful. Maybe she had forgotten that Ganyu was also technically also involved in this project? Then she turned on her heel. “If you are available, then I won’t complain. Come on; I’ll fill you in as we walk.” 

She led her down the cobblestone pathway, still littered with debris and seaweed. Ganyu glanced around. 

When Ningguang said to take a walk by the pier, she must’ve meant what was left of it.

Everywhere she looked, there were remnants of destruction—damaged pieces of what used to be the piers strewn all over the place, sand and dirt swept thickly onto the streets, houses ripped apart. And in that destruction, there were signs of restoration already in the process—people of all walks of life, young and old, pitching in to help rebuild all that was lost.

She didn’t notice that Keqing was following her gaze until she spoke. “We’ve just finished fixing up the municipal infrastructure not too long ago. However, the commercial district will have to wait their turn until we make progress with the residential areas and the docks. Only a handful of houses are ready to start reconstruction right now.

“I normally wouldn’t have civilians do any of this, mind you. But considering the scope of what needs to get done and how eager they all were to volunteer their time, I decided to make a few exceptions. My team is already spread out thinly as is.” Then Keqing’s expression softened. “Everyone just wants to do their part. The Harbor is their home, after all.”

So the Yuheng could smile like that too?

Ganyu nodded absently. This scene, she was familiar with—like a memory thousands-years past. 

The birth of a nation, the beginnings of a bustling town, the clamoring of a growing, lively city. She was there for every single part of it and was involved at every single step.

They arrived at the residential district, teams of people already busy at work. “We were fortunate that most of the building frames and foundations are still intact. Were the catastrophe any worse or the structures less strong, the entire neighborhood could’ve been washed away,” Keqing remarked as they stopped in the middle of the bare skeleton of what seemed to be a large room of a house. “The walls and the insulation needed to be ripped out to prevent mold so repairs will still take some time before anyone can move back in.” 

Keqing rolled up her sleeves and reached into the small side pockets of her bag to procure two pairs of protective glasses. She slipped one over her eyes then offered the other to Ganyu. “Here. Safety first. You’re going to help me align the plywood to the truss behind you.”

Ganyu did as she was told, hoisting the sheet of wood and aligning it to the joint. She watched with great intrigue as Keqing took out a hammer out of her bag. Keqing lined a nail up to the wood truss, giving it a little tap to guide it gently into the surface. Ganyu’s eyes followed the motion of the firm muscles of her forearm, flexing slightly when Keqing adjusted her grip. Then with great force, she swung the hammer and the nail was smoothly embedded into the wood in a single stroke. “There,” Keqing said, continuing up and down the sheet. “Just like that.”

The clothes already gave it away but the question at the tip of her tongue desired to be spoken aloud. “Your Eminence, have you been here the entire time?”

Keqing looked at her, perplexed. “Of course. Where else would I be? Did you think I was skipping work? How ridiculous.”

“I meant no offense. I simply didn’t expect that you’d…” 

“Yeah?”

“The Yuheng’s typical responsibilities out on the field usually entailed more oversight rather than hands-on participation,” Ganyu responded plainly. More like a foreman than a laborer. 

Keqing shrugged. “Well, things will move along faster the more hands we have on deck, yes? Besides, the Yuheng’s responsibilities also entail that I should be informed about everything about the lands, how it’s being used, and of the people toiling on it. What better way to do so by doing it all myself?” 

A very Keqing answer. The very atypical Yuheng.

“Ah,” Ganyu acknowledged, not sure what else to say to that.

To distract herself, she walked away to wander around the skeleton of the house, aware of Keqing’s silent footsteps padding behind her a safe distance away. Something about it felt strangely familiar as well. “This framing…”

Keqing scowled for only a moment, then sighed in resignation. “So you can tell? The housing here in Chihu Rock will remain as the Rex Lapis designs.”

“Why? What about your blueprints?”

Ganyu turned around, finding a pensive expression on Keqing’s face. She spoke, begrudgingly and stiff. “After all that transpired, I revisited my calculations and made the decision accordingly after consulting with the rest of my team. It would appear that I didn’t account for freak, god-made tsunamis and extreme torrential downpour in my research… And it would appear that Rex Lapis, in fact, did.”

“Oh.” Ganyu wasn’t sure how to reply to that either. A pause, then, “W-well, it is as you said too. The encounter with the long-sealed sea god was a freak encounter. Monsters like Osial were still rampant back in those times, so it’s only natural that Rex Lapis… took that into consideration.” The last bit of her sentence slowly tapered off when Keqing’s frown deepened.

“Only natural, huh…” Keqing muttered. She grumbled something else under her breath, then sighed again. “At any rate, I’ll spend most of my time out here until the families that lost their homes can move back into their repaired houses. Until then, I’ll have a talk with the residents about what they’d like to have improved or added to the neighborhood while construction is in progress. A new community center or a public library would be nice for the kids,” she said with renewed determination.

Ganyu nodded, slightly surprised. There really was nothing that deterred this woman, was there? “My lady, please, allow me to lend you my aid. If it’s for the benefit of Liyue, I will do whatever I can.”

“Then for one thing, you can start with helping me with those revisions—the housing project on the plains may be at a higher sea level than the communities here, but it would appear that I have to account for freak, god-made tsunamis now!”

“Don’t forget the extreme torrential downpours.”

“Oh, why of course!” Keqing did an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “Because that’s something that happens so very frequently in these parts. Only every thousand-some years or so, when a motley group of lunatics decide to revive a monster-god!” 

An amused huff, something close to a chuckle, escaped Ganyu against her will. Surprised, she tried to hide it with a hand to cover her lips. 

Keqing’s sharp eyes noticed. A smirk, then a small smile. “Well, I think that’s enough of my troubles. What about you? Heading back now?” 

“Oh. No.” She nearly forgot. “The Tianquan has relieved me of my office duties for the remainder of the day. So, I...” 

“Is that right?” An unreadable glimmer sparked in the Yuheng’s eyes. “If that’s the case, rest assured that you’ll have plenty to do here.” She reached into her bag to pull out another hammer to give to Ganyu. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

Together, they aligned another sheet of plywood to the trusses. Keqing gestured to Ganyu’s hands with a nod. “I’ve already demonstrated what to do. Can you—” 

Thock!

Ganyu already had another nail lined up to the wood. “Oh, sorry. Did you say something?”

“N-no, not really.”

Thock!

Thock!

Thock!!

“You’re surprisingly good at that.”

Ganyu smiled mysteriously. “It's been a long time since I last did something like this, so I’m not as good at it as you, my lady. I think the last time I picked up a hammer was… over two thousand years ago?” 

The first time they shared a meal together felt almost like a work meeting, just as Keqing insinuated earlier in the day when she invited her out.

Ganyu chewed on a lotus flower crisp.

Not that Ganyu minded much. Considering their personalities, issues about work were the easiest topics they could hold a productive conversation over. She could have fun with Beidou later.

Keqing popped another golden shrimp ball into her mouth while she ruminated on several sheets of papers laid out on their table. “Northwest of the Wangshu Inn is Qingce Village. The area seems prime for agriculture thanks to its abundance of water resources. If the villagers were up to it, they could become a part of Liyue’s trade sectors with, say, semiaquatic crops.”

“Perhaps,” Ganyu blew at her spoonful of hot jewelry soup. Swallowing, she added, “But we’ll have to find people willing to relocate, otherwise there won’t be anyone to tend to those supposed fields, unless you want the village elders and young children to toil away in the sun. Before any of that, you’d have to negotiate contracts with the villagers first, though I don’t think they’d be partial to a sudden influx of strangers barging into their ancestral lands.”

Keqing sighed. “I expected as much. Wuwang Village is a no-go too. To the other side of Stone Gate then? There’s plenty of open area and it’ll make it easier for any communities reestablished around Yaoguang Shoal to travel for trading.”

“A more feasible option, Lady Keqing,” Ganyu agreed. She reached for another crisp. “Have you checked the cliffsides close to the main road already? The ground is not as soft as Dihua Marsh but it may require additional fortifications before you can begin building safely atop of the hills.”

Another sigh. Keqing tapped the end of her pen irritably at the table surface. “I’m starting to understand why the Bishui Trade Route closed down in the first place.” Keqing grabbed the papers off the table to slip them back into her bag. “The roads connecting Bishui Plains to Mondstadt are rife with monsters and treasure hoarders, not to mention how many more Millelith we’ll have to hire and train to protect it.” 

Ganyu set her spoon down. She watched as Keqing put an elbow on the table to rest her chin against the backside of her hand, clearly frustrated. “You’re quite keen on reopening this trade route.”

“It’s wasted potential to both Mondstadt’s and Liyue’s economy, in my opinion.” Keqing scrunched her nose in displeasure. “But there’s too many variables to make it viable right now. I’ll have to consult with Ningguang before venturing any further too.”

“Liyue Harbor was created with the intention of it being a port city-state after all. Sailing between here and Dornman Port in Mondstadt remains the more efficient conclusion.” 

“Sure.” Keqing stabbed a shrimp ball on her plate. “But what about now, with the ports destroyed and under repair? What about later? How long are we expecting—”

“How long are we expecting this status quo to last?" Ganyu finished with a teasing chuckle. Keqing cutely pouted. 

Pouted. 

The infamously austere Yuheng. 

How adorable. 

Ganyu neatly tucked that image of Keqing into the back of her mind. 

“Well, at least you’re finally catching on,” Keqing clicked her tongue, amused. She stole a lotus crisp from Ganyu’s plate. “I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks after all.”

“Hey!”

“So I’ve heard something interesting recently.”

Ganyu tilted her head at Ningguang.

The Tianquan’s lips curved upwards. “Oh, nothing scandalous. But if I may…”

“Yes?”

“Congratulations,” Ningguang said. “To you and Keqing’s newfound relationship.”

Ganyu nearly tripped. “W-what? We’re not—”

“I’m only teasing, Ganyu.”

“Lady Ningguang.” There was nothing that Ganyu could do to will her coming blush back down. “Please refrain from making such inappropriate comments. Someone might misunderstand.”

Even though the Tianquan’s newly relocated office in the Yuehai Pavilion was very much a private space, Ganyu couldn’t help but to self-consciously glance over her shoulders. 

The Tianqian’s personal assistants were exceptionally good at keeping secrets, but juicy gossip tempted the human soul like no other. 

“Perhaps it was I who misunderstood then,” Ningguang said wryly, idly twirling her pipe between her fingers. “Pardon my confusion when I learned that the two of you go out together during your lunch breaks every other day. Or my perceived impressions of the times I try to catch you or Keqing in the evenings, only to find that you’ve booked each other for dinner. Or my poorly informed conclusions drawn from the time I saw you run so hastily to the front gates of the Harbor to offer Keqing a boxed meal before she set out for another expedition.”

“I-I just wanted to make sure that she remembers to eat regularly, that’s all.” 

“Preparing a boxed lunch for her travels is most certainly the way to keep her satiated, of course.” 

“Keqing never brings food rations with her during long trips.” Ganyu’s blush increased tenfold, fumbling for words. If Keqing ever heard any of this, Ganyu felt like her tenure as the general secretary might be in jeopardy. Despite that, the words continued to clumsily flow out of her useless lips. “She hurls her hairpin into water like a harpoon and subsists on only fish and berries. While she’s out exploring, she needs to be mindful to take care of herself.”

She chose not to mention how it was her subtle way of showing her gratitude. When small bouquets of flowers from an anonymous benefactor started to appear on Ganyu’s desk every morning after Keqing returned from her expeditions, it was easy to guess who it was from the lingering scent of rain and lightning.

Ningguang’s slim shoulders shook from the weak effort of covering her laughs. “My, how thoughtful of you.”

Ganyu cleared her throat, loudly, awkwardly. Suddenly she wanted nothing other than the earth to swallow her whole right then and there. “There’s much still to be done for Liyue. If the Yuheng were to fall ill from overwork or lack of nutrition, it would be detrimental for the Qixing’s overall productivity.” 

“Indeed.” Ningguang waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Not having the entire court of the Qixing present for our regular meetings means delaying the approval of many legislatures. Therefore, Ganyu.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“For the reasons you mentioned, you are to continue what you’ve been doing for the Yuheng to ensure her health is not compromised.”

Feeling flustered but for another reason now, Ganyu nodded. “Of course.”

“Good.” Ningguang smiled and for some reason, Ganyu couldn’t shake the feeling that the Tianquan knew much more than she let on.

The Lantern Festival was going to be a different one this year. One of the many things that would be different without Rex Lapis watching over them, Ganyu mused.

Her mind grazed over the thought tenderly, before settling to tuck it away in the back of her mind for now. It diverted when a hand, outstretched, reached for her head and gently rustled her hair.

“Sorry,” Keqing said, pulling back with a stray piece of paper—perhaps carried by the gentle winds as the town prepared the paper lanterns—in between her fingertips. “It was stuck. Did I startle you?”

“No,” Ganyu said. Her face felt a little warm. “I was just lost in thought for a second.” 

Keqing hummed and turned away. Her hands settled back on the wooden frame of the balcony. 

They stood atop of the terrace in a peaceful quiet. The afternoon sun was setting by now, dyeing the sky in golden yellows and dusky purples. Unlike other Lantern Festivals, nobody had to pry Keqing away from her desk. 

“The annual Liyue Lantern Festival is a national holiday, as proclaimed in Codice Volume 9, Article 3, Section 12, paragraph 7: ‘All citizens are to be excused from all work during times of festivities’,” recited Yanfei one year when Ningguang had to remind all of them that yes, technically, working during a holiday was illegal. 

(And that Keqing, specifically, and by law, was not to enter her office during business hours on the day of a festival.)

“So as you can see,” Ningguang smiled crookedly, “I’ll be forced to call the Millelith on you if you insist on breaking the law.”

“What?” Keqing exclaimed, exasperated. “What law? You can’t just ban me from my own office!”

Ningguang exchanged a knowing glance with Yanfei, who then opened her terribly thick book of the newest edition of the Liyue Codices with a snicker, to point at a specific little section that Keqing had to squint to read. Ningguang hid a smirk behind her fan. 

“You forget, my little Yuheng, that I make the laws.”

A dangerous growl. 

“Why you conniving piece of—”

The Qixing was called in for an emergency meeting the following business day to amend it.

The rest of Liyue was bustling and lively in comparison, though Ganyu could feel it—and was certain that Keqing did as well—the subtle solemnness that blanketed the town. 

It was a bittersweet feeling. This would be the first Lantern Festival that Liyue would celebrate without their Archon. The first of many more. 

“Mora for your thoughts?”

Ganyu shaken her out of her reverie again. She was smiling, her gaze gentle. 

“I was just thinking. About what is to happen next.”

“Are you scared?”

Before, the inklings of fear used to seep into the crevices of Ganyu’s mind whenever she lingered on that thought for too long. But within that, there was hope. The anticipation of what was to come and excitement to see what Liyue and Her people would forge together with their own hands. Now with this budding feeling in her chest, this seed of hope, Ganyu wondered what it would grow into. She wondered if this was the feeling that Keqing always felt when she spoke about the future.

A light touch grazed against the tips of Ganyu's ring and pinky fingers—it was Keqing, gingerly holding onto her. Chest fluttering, Ganyu ventured and dared to take Keqing’s hand and laced it together with her own. Keqing neither flinched nor pulled away, eyes still trained into the distance, but gave a gentle squeeze of her own to acknowledge her.

It was nice. The feeling of being acknowledged. 

There was something else budding in her chest, something soft and warm.

“A little bit,” Ganyu admitted. “But I want to see where it takes us.”

She didn’t specify what though. 

“There’s still some time before the lantern lighting begins,” Keqing said, “do you want to head down soon?”

“Ah, yes. We can go—” Ganyu paused to stifle a yawn. When she finished blinking the bleariness out of her eyes, Keqing was smirking openly at her. Already knowing what she was going to say, Ganyu tried to beat her to the punch. “Please don’t look at me like that. I’m not tired.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Keqing teased. She tugged at their still-joined hands and Ganyu let her guide them back into the Pavilion and into Ganyu’s office—Ganyu’s, not Keqing’s, because neither of them had the time to read the new law revisions that Ningguang passed a month ago. “Then in the case that you are, you can rest if you need to.”

“Didn’t you want to shop around the stalls?”

“I do, but I also don’t want you falling asleep on your feet or else Ningguang might think I was making you work during a holiday.”

“Not in the mood to break the law this year then?” Ganyu teased lightly, allowing Keqing to lead the way when her feet started to drag on the floor. 

“Maybe. Or to not frame you as an accomplice into my dastardly schemes,” Keqing scoffed. “Some laws shouldn’t be laws in the first place,” she added disdainfully. 

The rest of the Qixing unanimously vetoed the young Yuheng’s challenge for an amendment. Ganyu chuckled lightly at the memory despite feeling her eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. She sat on the end of the couch and leaned into the junction of the arm and the backrest. “Laws are made with the citizens’ best interests in mind.” 

“You’ll be more comfortable if you laid down.” 

Too much effort. All Ganyu could muster to reply in return was a dazed murmur. 

A sigh. Despite her eyes already closed, Ganyu could feel Keqing settle into the space beside her. Something was snaking around her shoulders, pulling her in until her head rested on something soft, then retreated.  “...Keqing?”

“Don’t worry,” Ganyu heard her say, “I can wake you in, say, three minutes time?”

The lingering scent of ozone and sweet flowers wafted around her. 

How could someone smell like the sky and the earth at the same time? 

Ganyu breathed it in deeply, finding an odd comfort in it. 

.

.

.

When Ganyu awakened, darkness filled her vision so thoroughly that her first thought was that she was perhaps still dreaming. She tried again, blinking, and confirming—night had already settled in the world outside her office. The tell-tale orange glow emanating from her window meant that the festival was probably in full swing by now.

Startled, Ganyu nearly jumped to her feet, but was stopped by a firm resistance—a hand on her shoulder, firmly tugging her back down. 

Keqing was not looking at her, focused on reading through a scroll hovering in front of her.

“K-Keqing?” Ganyu squeaked into the nape of Keqing’s neck, her collar tickling her nose.

“If you stand up too fast, you’ll fall over,” Keqing said simply, “I’ll be done in a moment.”

A beat, and Ganyu succumbed to the comforting warmth. She tucked her head under Keqing’s chin and tentatively twined their fingers together again. Keqing did not pull away and Ganyu savored the feeling. “Do I spy you working? Should I call the Millelith on the basis of lawbreaking?”

Keqing gave her a once-over. “Accusing me of wrongdoing, are you?”

“Lady Ningguang would be scandalized to know that her fellow colleague, the Yuheng, became a criminal overnight.”

Keqing rolled her eyes, her lips curved into the beginnings of a smile. 

“Three minutes,” Ganyu said, rubbing circles on the top of Keqing’s hand with her thumb. “I’ll give you three minutes before I have to report you for breaking the law.” 

“Oh? And what is the punishment for such a thing?”

“You would lose your freedom to browse the stalls for the rest of the night,” Ganyu said, her face schooled as serious as she could manage though she couldn’t restrain the amusement from leaking into her voice. “You are to be confined in the Qixing secretary’s office for the rest of the evening to ensure no other crimes are committed.” 

“But wait! If you are to be supervising a supposed criminal, wouldn’t that also count as working, as law-breaking?” 

“The law states, and I quote: ‘Should the Yuheng be caught working during a holiday, the Emissary of the Qixing may volunteer her time to watch over the Yuheng as an alternative to turning them over to the Millelith for solitary confinement.’ I volunteered, therefore, I am not working.”

“Damn those Qixing!” The scroll dissolved in a scatter of light. “But if this is to be my punishment, then so be it. I will honorably admit to my wrongdoing.”

Ganyu giggled, her cheeks tinted pink. “Then, you are to be sentenced to an evening under my care.”

As the darkness outside became illuminated with the brilliant flashes of fireworks and low-rising glow of lanterns, Keqing gazed only at her, unmistakably fond. 

Ganyu was starting to know that look very well. It was the same one that promised things that Ganyu never thought she would yearn for; another wish that Ganyu never thought she would wish for…

Another back-and-forth of what could bes and what could nots. 

“Keqing?” 

The woman atop of the hill flinched and rose to her feet. Keqing squinted into the dark. “Ganyu? What are you doing up here?” 

She tucked a stray lock behind her ear; the cool breeze in the night air felt pleasant on her skin after being stuck inside the office for so long. “This pathway leads to my house.”

Keqing blinked and glanced at the ground—it was then that Ganyu noticed the blanket spread out on the grass, two tiny bottles of wine at her feet… and was that a glider? She watched as Keqing rubbed the back of her head, embarrassed. “O-oh, um, I didn’t… Ahem. I suppose I must’ve picked a poor place to set up. Give me a minute and I'll have my things ready to go.”

Ganyu moved closer to gently pull Keqing back down, settling on the blanket beside her. “You don’t have to move.” She gestured to the items beside them. “What’s the occasion?” 

Keqing offered one of the bottles to Ganyu, who graciously accepted. “A celebration, though I suppose one might call it a premature one at that.”

Ganyu’s mind flitted back to the stacks of papers that she meticulously poured over and stamped and approved and declined throughout the day. “You mean the Chihu Rock renovations and housing expansion project. They’re both almost to completion, aren’t they?” 

“Mhm.” Keqing nodded with a sip and gestured for Ganyu to do the same. 

A sweet, fragrant scent; a mild, bitter taste; a smooth and refreshing tingle at the back of the throat. Ganyu hummed. “So you bought qingxin wine to celebrate?”

“Hey, I didn’t buy them. The Crux captain shoved them into my hands on my way here! This one,” Keqing swirled her own bottle, “is Inazuman sake. Or so she said. I’d refuse them if I could, but she already ran off when a Millelith guard came passing through.” 

A small giggle bubbled out from Ganyu. “Of course.” She set her drink down. “Do you always come up here after you finish a project? I never noticed before, if you do.”

A shrug. “Not always. But yes, I do like coming up here.” Keqing looked upward, into the depths of the clear, starry night skies above. “This is the highest peak in the city and the best place to go stargazing. When I look up at them, it rejuvenates me. Reminds me why I work so hard to make my dreams into a reality.” 

Ganyu wondered then, what was it that Keqing saw up there, for Liyue? 

What future did she envision for herself?

A piece of her, hoping and maybe a little bit yearning, wished that she could see what Keqing saw too.

A hand rested loosely atop of Ganyu’s—and it was Ganyu who twined their fingers together. Keqing continued. “You might think it silly of me, celebrating something that hasn’t come to pass yet. I thought of inviting you too, but I didn’t want to pull you away from your work for something so frivolous.”

“Not at all. Had you told me sooner, I would’ve clocked out on time to join you. I must say though, I didn’t think you were the type to be a stargazer.”

“Hm. Here I was thinking that you’d be the type that did,” Keqing mused. “For me, it’s like another reward—to be able to enjoy blessings as rare as these.”

“So why the glider?”

This pair of bronze-gold wings was different, Ganyu noted, than Keqing’s usual plain black pair that used for work whenever she went out of the Harbor.

“What, that?” Keqing quirked her head at it. “I picked it up from its caravan this afternoon; I’ve gotten it specialty-made by crafters at Mondstadt. With the weather still so nice, I figured I could take it out for a test run.”

“First, you attempted to work during a holiday and now you plan on gliding around the city under the influence?” Ganyu gasped in faux alarm. “Perhaps I should’ve turned you in that night of the Lantern Festival, if I’d known that you’d devolve into an outright criminal!” 

Keqing lightly pushed her side. “Oh, shut it! First of all, it’s Ningguang and the rest of the Qixing who are the real crooks. Abusing their power to make dumb little clauses into law! And second of all, look at this tiny bottle! It barely has any alcohol in it! I’m not even buzzed!” 

“If you say so.”

“Ganyu!”

She laughed and leaned into Keqing, who grinned and laughed with her, radiant and free. The sound of it, Ganyu drank it all in.

And Ganyu, drunk on the warm buzzing thrill that only came with being this dazzling, wonderful, blistering star of a woman, did not notice when a piece of her, her own heart, quietly spoke its truth.

“One day, I hope I can see the same skies that you see too.” 

When they finished their drinks, Keqing offered her another surprise.

“Say, have you...?”

“Hm?” 

“Have you flown with a glider before?”

She had, actually. A handful of times before. Wind gliders weren’t very popular around Liyue, with most people preferring to keep their feet on the ground. Ganyu was one of them. Keqing and her expedition crew probably made up the entirety of the population in the Harbor that owned a glider license in the first place. “I’m not very good at it.”

Keqing rose to her feet, pulling Ganyu up as well with their still-joined hands. “Do you want to try again?”

Ganyu blinked. “But there’s only one glider…?” The glimmer of mischief in Keqing’s eyes gave it away. “Keqing, no—there’s only one glider.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fine! This one is very sturdy! I can give you the seller’s warranty and information handbook if you want to check for yourself.” 

“That sake of yours—you said it was from Beidou? Are you sure that it was not spiked with anything suspicious? Or have you finally picked up some of her bad habits after catching her redhanded one-too-many times?”

“Yes, it’s from Beidou and no, I’m almost certain there was nothing laced in its contents. But if there were, I’d have her arrested on a felony for drug trafficking and distribution.” 

“I can have you arrested for flying drunk!”

Keqing gave her an amused huff and continued to equip the glider on her back. Ganyu tried again for another reprimand, but what came out instead was a surprised yelp when Keqing suddenly crouched down and gathered her into her arms in a single motion. “K-Keqing!” 

“You asked,” Keqing whispered into her ear and it was enough to make Ganyu stop squirming to listen, “what was it that I envisioned for Liyue.”

Did she? It was honestly hard to think when all that her mind could focus on was the sensation of being held so closely to the overwhelming scent of the flowers and the sky.

And her voice, oh, the way it made Ganyu want to melt at its low and husky tones. “Then let me show you.” 

Curse her treacherous heart for believing in this madwoman, who craved for loftier heights, for unimaginable sights! But poor Ganyu, caught up in the dizzying pace of this tempest, did not have time to mentally prepare herself when—

Keqing leapt.

A split second of weightlessness.

Then the sudden lurch of gravity and they were freefalling to the ground!

—Then! Another jerk when the golden wings unfurled and was met with immediate resistance. Ganyu couldn’t stifle a loud shriek from escaping her throat, throwing her arms out frantically to encircle Keqing’s neck out of reflex. Keqing, startled by her sudden movements, had her balance thrown off-kilter and they started to plummet down again.

“Keqing!”

A string of curses later—ooh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!—had Keqing clumsily closing and very quickly refurling her glider wings to catch air again. The glider, clearly not meant for a two-passenger flight, rocked and wobbled precariously and Ganyu was absolutely certain that tonight was the night that she was going to die until Keqing finally managed to stabilize it.

At some point during their disastrous takeoff, Ganyu had wrenched her eyes shut, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. Pressed up so closely together, Ganyu could feel the hammering of Keqing’s own, pounding through her ribcage. 

A shuddering breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now steady and calm. “Ganyu.” A warm hand at her back, another hooked under her knees, and the sound of her voice.  

“I—” Eyes still tightly closed, Ganyu stammered, “I c-can’t!”

“You’re alright, I’ve got you. C’mon, look.”

Ganyu tightened her hold around Keqing’s neck and in response, she felt Keqing held her even tighter, even closer still. She listened first; the wind, no longer harsh and howling and biting at their clothes, now gentle and coaxing as it played with the ends of the glider wings. 

So she tried, slowly, and saw—

—The ethereal sparkling of the ocean like untold stars stretched endlessly before her.

—The soft moonlight dimly reflecting off the craggy mountain ranges and casting shadows into the deep valleys surrounding her.

—The muted clamor of the restless crowd and bright, speckled glow of lantern lights from the still-busy night market below her. 

—The boundless beauty of the twinkling starry heavens above her.

Of mysteries yet to be revealed, of possibilities still yet unseen. Of liberating freedom, of thrills of impossibilities made into realities!

What lied beyond the sea? Beyond the skies? What was there to find in the mountains and valleys untraveled? What future was there in store for Liyue under the reins of human potential? 

She drank it all in deeply. The crisp, clean scent of ozone filled her lungs, the peaceful silence of nothing but rustling of wings and her own heartbeat in her ears. 

The moment was interrupted however, when a sudden gust from behind surprised them. Keqing, also distracted, was swept off balance again. They veered to and fro with the wind, very nearly crashing into the rooftop of the Heyu Tea House. 

They made for a sloppy landing at the newly-repaired piers. Keqing’s legs gave out from the weight of supporting both herself and Ganyu upon toeing the ground, and they tumbled and nearly rolled off the docks and into the ocean, with Keqing practically collapsing on top of her when they finally stopped. They were a tangle of limbs and of wind-mussed hair, of scraped knees and of rumpled clothes, of breathless joy and of unrestrained laughter. 

Ganyu nestled closer into the crook of Keqing’s neck while the last of her giggles bubbled out of her. Her arms had never left Keqing, still holding her tightly. 

Keqing grinned widely. She shifted, a hand now rested at Ganyu’s waist and the other at the back of her head, carding through silky soft blue locks. 

Shuddering breaths. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

But their hearts still racing.

And Keqing, still drunk on the high but still meek and shy, allowed a piece of herself to spill out its truth:

“Ganyu, I think… I might be…”

The rest were lost as silent confessions that only the wind knew, but they nonetheless spoke volumes when lips murmured wordless exaltations into Ganyu’s hair.

A kiss, featherlight and so, so gentle, near the base of her horn. Ganyu gasped lightly, a roiling warmth slowly pooling at her stomach. 

She wondered, briefly, if Keqing knew the meaning of a qilin’s horns.

If she knew how sacred it was to offer this piece of herself to another.

If she knew how much she yearned for her touch, more and more.

With only the wind and the stars as their witness, Ganyu curled into her and wished.

In this glimpse of a dream that Keqing envisioned—

—That there may be room to watch it come to fruition alongside her.

“You have the hots for the Yuheng.”

Ganyu gracelessly sputtered on her qingxin wine. “Beidou!”

Beidou swirled her ochoko languidly as she laughed loudly. The sake that she managed to acquire during her recent voyage to Inazuma wasn’t particularly strong but the Captain indulged in it ever since they arrived at Wanmin Restaurant—huh. 

How long have they been drinking tonight now?

“But it’s true,” Beidou slurred. If Ganyu wasn’t so inebriated herself, she would’ve leapt across the table to shut her up. Ganyu loved her friend dearly, but sometimes her frankness came at a volume that was much too loud for public spaces. 

The Crux Captain was the only human she met that could hold her liquor in the same manner that Ganyu could. Ganyu was fortunate that after all her centuries of life, her body finally learned to sober up quickly after a heavy night of drinking. As much as Ganyu wanted to drink her under the table one of these days, she wasn’t keen on the idea of lugging an unconscious Beidou back to her crewmates, half-dead by alcohol poisoning. 

Beidou reached over the table, drunkenly groping for her half-empty mug of beer with her unoccupied hand. Ganyu instead pushed a glass of water into it. Beidou huffed lightheartedly, downing it nonetheless. 

“Seriously though,” Beidou started, suddenly sounding more sober. “I think you should go for it. There’s no harm in trying. You might be surprised.” A small smile crept onto her face. “Or, actually, maybe not. You know her better than I do, after all.”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Listen, Ganyu. You should never let an opportunity slip by. That holds true with everything in life, from the most priceless of treasures to the people you care about the most. Don’t let it become a regret.”

Ganyu meekly sipped at her own glass of water before setting it back down. “I...” 

“So go out there and grab yourself some Yuheng booty!” 

Ganyu painfully knocked her knee on the underside of the table in her haste to jump at her. “Shh! That’s my boss!”

“You’ve got a real fine one at that! Don’t you ever wanna just, I dunno, throw her against the wall and mess her up, for once? ‘Cause, fuck!” 

Something like a strangled groan came from the flustered mess that was Ganyu. 

“And I get it, alright!” Beidou slammed her glass on the table so hard that it fractured the bottom. Clink! “I mean, have you seen that ass? Goddamn!” 

Perhaps the only way to make her dear friend shut her mouth was to punch it closed? In an uncharacteristic moment of violence, Ganyu winded up her arm and—

A tap, two taps, on her leg. 

Alarmed, Ganyu whipped her head to the side at the curious, fixated stare of her good old friend, Guoba, who probably came over at Xiangling’s instruction to check up on them. Mortified and face aflame, Ganyu slid back down into her chair as she shooed the little red panda away.

“I-I think she’s attractive, sure.” Certainly!—This must be the alcohol talking, Ganyu was sure of it! Clammy hands grasped for her water and Ganyu chugged the remaining mouthfuls hastily. The chilled water did little to relieve her searing cheeks. “But n-not in that way!”

Beidou tutted. She was spilling sake all over the table the more that she swirled her ochoko ‘round—round and round and round like Keqing’s tight round ass—goddamn! “Hey, hey! Eyes on me, miss secretary!”

A snap of fingers later and Ganyu was abruptly reminded of where she was. Beidou was smirking wildly from across the table. 

“Can’t fool me! You’re so damned whipped for her. I know that look on your face you had just now.”

“My face?”

“In fact, just pay closer attention to the Yuheng the next time you see her. She looks at you the same way.” 

“W-what do you mean?”

She knew exactly what she meant. It was out of some twisted craving for validation—that if someone else had noticed it too then it must be true!—that the question fell from her lips.

But it was her mistake that out of all the people that she allowed this honest piece of her to slip out, it was with the much-too-honest Crux Captain. 

“It’s the same one that Ningguang makes when I return from the sea. Y’know, the extra horny one—”

“Beidou!!”

When Ganyu arrived at the Wangshu Inn, the light sprinkling of rain continued to follow her steps from the Dihua Marsh. As soon as she reached the lobby, thunder boomed so loud that the very sound of it could split the skies. Seemingly unphased, Verr Goldet greeted her with a smile.

“Lady Ganyu,” she waved, calm and warm, a direct contrast to the storm that raged outside. Reaching from beneath the counter, Verr Goldet slid over a small tub across the laminated wood finish. Inside was a towel and a familiar set of keys. “Your usual.”

Ganyu returned the smile gratefully, taking her time to dry herself before returning the towel into the tub for Verr to launder later. She signed her name off with an elegant flourish as Verr finished her check-in for the night. “Thank you.”

“Is Miss Yaoyao not joining you this time?”

“No, unfortunately.” A small chuckle fell from her lips. “As much as she wanted to come, there were still several tasks that needed tending to.”

The innkeeper gave her a sympathetic smile. 

She turned on her heel to head up to her room but stopped at the hasty clamoring up the steps to the inn’s entrance. 

Keqing, soaking wet and out of breath, appeared from the depths of the storm. Ganyu’s heart stuttered, suddenly feeling out of breath herself. “Keqing?”

Keqing blinked owlishly at her. “Ganyu?” She grinned. “So it was you I saw.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“A solo expedition of sorts,” Keqing replied. “I wanted to take another look at the bridge connecting the Plains with the rest of Qiongji Estuary.”

Ganyu did not miss the way Keqing’s lovely amethyst eyes scoured up and down her body, still damp from the rain. Suddenly, she was distinctly aware of how tightly the black fabric that covered most of her body clung to her skin. Self-consciously, her breath stuttered again. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest to cover herself. 

Verr offered another tub with another towel to Keqing. Ganyu watched, as she always did, allowing her gaze to linger far too long as Keqing patted at her drenched clothes and the firm muscles of her strong calves and thighs, her toned arms, and squared shoulders. 

A warmth started to pool in her stomach, her fingers itched with the need to do something with them—to rip apart stockinged thighs, to drag her palms across firm, taut muscles, to dip her fingers into warm wetness. 

Ganyu only tore herself away when she felt Verr’s prying eyes on her this time, a warmth now also rising to her cheeks. 

She discreetly cleared her throat.

Keqing returned the towel in exchange for a key and busied herself with the clipboard to check in for the night as well—she did not notice how Verr’s hands, usually so quick with decisions, faltered with indecision at the key rack. 

When Keqing set the pen down, Verr decided on a key. “I hope you enjoy your stay, my lady.” 

They climbed the staircase together in idle chat. “Did something happen at the estuary?” Ganyu asked. “I don’t recall reading about anything unusual before I left the office.” 

“Nothing of importance, really.” Keqing shrugged. “Rather, it’s more out of curiosity. That bridge has been like that for a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. There was a record of peculiarly heavy rainfall that year when it was destroyed. A flash flood wiped a portion of the bridge out but because Mingyun Village had long since been deserted, there was no priority to repair it.”

Keqing hummed. “I was hoping to take a survey team to the shoal or to Sal Terrace but the bridge being in disrepair makes the journey back and forth a pain.” She wrinkled her nose in displeasure. “Not to mention, it’s an eyesore. But even if I wanted to have it fixed, there’s plenty of other things on my plate that need attention first.”

“Hopefully it won’t take another decade for it to be in working condition again then,” Ganyu chuckled when Keqing blatantly gave her an eyeroll.

“So what brings you here?” Keqing asked. “It’s rare for you to be outside the Harbor.” 

“If it weren’t for Yaoyao and my other assistants, I would still be there,” Ganyu said. “Everyone in the office insisted that I take the day off now that things have finally calmed down. Yaoyao especially, but she probably wanted an excuse to come with me.”

“Oh? And she isn’t?”

“Not with the pile of paperwork still at her desk to keep her company.”

“Ah, of course.” A small smile pulled at Keqing’s lips. “I am very familiar with that sort of company.” 

“So am I.” Ganyu shared the smile. 

Keqing hummed absently. “A rare day off to yourself, then.”

“Yes, but…” With a strike of boldness, Ganyu reached for her, loosely capturing Keqing’s thumb, teased at the silk of her gloves, then suddenly let go. “You’re now here, too.”

When Ganyu arrived at the foot of her door, she was unsurprised when Keqing stopped at the room right next to her own. A nosy one, that Verr Goldet. 

But if this was the opportunity given to her, why waste it? Ganyu could only hope that if she was proven wrong, that her heart may still be salvaged when it shattered.

“Keqing,” Ganyu started, then held her tongue. 

The air around them was charged, tinged with a something that neither of them wanted to put into words. When their eyes met again, Ganyu felt it—the tingle of electricity that ran up her spine. Keqing’s voice was barely above a whisper when she replied back. “Yes?”

Click. 

Ganyu unlocked her door. “If you find yourself seeking company tonight, I’ll leave my door open for you.” Keqing was still watching her with those eyes, smoldering and yearning. An electrifying shiver climbed up Ganyu’s spine again. “Passing a storm like the one tonight is much easier in the company of another.”

.

.

.

The storm outside was still raging when Keqing slipped into her room in the depths of the night. 

She did not knock. She only made her presence known when she was already inside, locking the door behind her. 

Though Ganyu had already guessed when the scent of flowers and rain and lightning followed.

Click.

Ganyu’s room was engulfed in the darkness, save for the soft amber glow of the shell lamp by the bedside. Rain and thunder pounded against the walls and within her chest. 

“You’re here,” Ganyu whispered in disbelief. 

Keqing’s hair was down, waves cascading off her shoulders like a waterfall. She was beautiful. 

A faint smile, with apprehension laced behind it. Keqing loosened the belt of her robes. “Were you not expecting me?”

“I was only hoping…” With trembling fingers, Ganyu reached for her. She tugged the rest of the garment off, relishing in how readily Keqing allowed it to pool at her feet. Her heart was thrumming wildly her chest as she drank in the bare sight of her. She traced the landscape of Keqing’s figure with a traveling finger and committed it to memory, just as a painter would for the image of a sunset on a canvas.

Perhaps, this was only just a dream?

Ganyu’s fingers continue to glide over heated skin, over the battlefield of faded nicks and lacerations that littered her front. Many of them, Ganyu was certain, were from during her time as Yuheng. Protecting Liyue from danger. 

She continued her journey until her hand rested atop of Keqing’s heart, thundering and wild.

Does this beat for me? 

Ganyu reached up to caress her cheek. Keqing nuzzled into her palm, kissing it lightly. Ganyu swallowed thickly. “Is this a dream?”

“Dreaming, even as I stand in front of you?” Keqing murmured. She was flushed red as she led Ganyu to the bed and loomed over her. “I’ve been dreaming of you for too long to keep denying it.”

Ganyu gingerly guided Keqing down, finally slanting her lips onto hers. They pulled away, their breaths mingling. “Is this okay?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Keqing said instead. Her body shook with the smallest of tremors. Nervous? The fearless Yuheng? 

“No, I…” Ganyu sought to comfort her, parting her lips for Keqing for a deep kiss. Keqing took the invitation to sweep her tongue over Ganyu’s bottom lip, along her teeth, and to swirl together with her tongue—eliciting a soft whimper. Keqing groaned into her and the sound travelled directly in between Ganyu’s thighs. There was no better taste in the world than Keqing’s moans on her tongue and Ganyu was easily addicted. She deepened the kiss while palming Keqing’s breast to draw out more sweet whines out of her, until they had no choice but to pull away to gasp for air. 

“G-Ganyu,” Keqing rasped, a wordless exhalation. Her voice carried a near-desperate edge that grew into a growl when Ganyu rolled a nipple between her fingers. “I… If this isn’t what you want, push me away now. Or else I don’t think I can stop.”

Why stop then? Ganyu thought dizzily. She tugged open at her own robe to reveal the battlefield of scars that blemished the front of her body. Most of which, Ganyu remembered, were from times of an ancient war when she fought as an Adepti under Rex Lapis. Protecting what was to become Liyue.

Perhaps, they were more similar than Ganyu originally thought. But Ganyu had already known that for a while, didn't she?

“You won’t regret it?” Ganyu mumbled. “Staying with someone like me?”

A half-qilin, a half-human. One who straddled the boundaries of the divine and the mortals?

“Never,” Keqing responded resolutely, unwaveringly. “What of you? Are you certain that you won’t wake with regrets when you find a sceptic beside you in the morning?” 

“If I don't have a taste of you for myself by the time the storm passes, then maybe.”

Ganyu guided Keqing back for another kiss, searing and aching with all the emotions that couldn’t hold back any longer. 

To go without consuming such an exquisite flower, with nary a drop of her liquid lightning—truly, a regret it would be! 

Keqing barked out an incredulous laugh at that. “My, since you feel so strongly about it! Then you have nothing to worry about.” She made to prove a point with a kiss of a ferocious need that forced a heady gasp from Ganyu. “I’m all yours, as you are mine.”

Keqing descended upon her like lightning crashing onto the shore, and Ganyu was helpless against her. Each of her kisses were more hungry and more ravishing than the last, and Ganyu could barely keep pace. Try as she might to fight against the storm, it was useless.

(This storm however, Ganyu did not mind riding out. For when it came her turn, she fully intended to repay Keqing tenfold over.)

Keqing pressed her fingers into her hip before trailing further down until meeting hot wetness and slipped a finger in. Surprised, Ganyu gasped sharply at the sensation of one inside her; she shuddered pleasurably at two; her back arched and a warbled cry escaped her at three.

A slow curl of unfurling fingers had her covering her mouth when an obscene moan spilled out.

Keqing’s eyes glimmered as she began to pepper kisses, featherlight and chaste, down the length of Ganyu’s neck to her collar to her breast, right above where her heart pounded so painfully in her chest. “Don’t hide.” Her voice vibrated on Ganyu’s skin. She slowed her movements to teasing, shallow strokes that had Ganyu wantonly rolling her hips into her wet, wet palm in desperate need. “I want to hear it.”

When Keqing captured a pert nipple with her lips and began to suck together with firm, deep thrusts of her skilled hands, Ganyu found it impossible to hold back her voice even if she tried. 

Ganyu’s hand found the back of Keqing’s head, tangling into her lovely lavender tresses and pressing her further down to her chest as if in desperate encouragement to continue, begging for more. Keqing returned her feelings just as fervently. And yet it was so overwhelming that Ganyu could barely grasp it in the haze of heat and lust and love.

But if there was one thing that she knew for certain:

That this was most certainly a dream, an honest truth, come true. 

Adepti were creatures of habit.

Recently though, there was a new habit that Ganyu was growing very accustomed to.

Every morning since Keqing moved in with her, Ganyu woke slightly past the crack of dawn, to enjoy the warmth of the woman that laid beside her for just a little while longer. Eventually she rose out of bed and shuffled into the newly constructed shrine room that Keqing helped her to build. With hands loosely clasped together, Ganyu wordlessly bowed her head in reverence and kneeled for a silent prayer to Rex Lapis. A smile tugged at her lips as she whispered to herself.

Peace and quiet. Safety and prosperity, for Liyue and Her people. Another productive day, for herself and the rest of the Qixing. Rex Lapis’ continued guidance. Sweet dreams. 

Simple things were all she could ask for. 

When Ganyu rose to her feet, she felt arms wrapping from behind her waist.

“Good morning.” Keqing held her gently, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. 

“My love,” Ganyu leaned into her, relishing the feeling of being in her embrace. She raised a hand to gently caress Keqing’s cheek to guide her in for a kiss. Keqing sighed contently against her lips.

“Breakfast will be ready soon.” Keqing murmured.

Ganyu hummed. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

Keqing reluctantly pulled away and Ganyu caught her with another chaste kiss, savoring the way that Keqing blushed a light pink before a playful smirk quickly replaced her initial embarrassment. 

“Keep that up and we won't make it to work on time.” 

“I’m sure Lady Ningguang will understand if we’re only a tad late to this morning’s meeting.” 

Keqing lightly scoffed. “And lose the only blackmail material I have when she was late to last month’s meeting thanks to Beidou? Yeah right.” She turned on her heel. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” 

“Mhm, I’ll be right there.”

Ganyu’s gaze lingered on Keqing’s form as she walked away. Then Ganyu closed her eyes and lowered her head once more.

“For Liyue. For Rex Lapis.” A soft whisper fell from her lips, her faith renewed, and her heart overflowing. 

“For my love.”