Chapter Text
A figure of utter radiance stands tall above all. Her stature, her face, her everything is beautiful, bordering on ethereal. Hardly a blemish on her perfect skin, a knot in her long, pearl coloured hair, a stray thread in her immaculate attire. Her expression is nothing short of elegant; studious, but with an underlying softness in her eyes and smile.
Momentarily, Lady Ningguang is at a loss for words, but quickly returns to her composed demeanor. “My goodness, Miss Huang…” She steps forward, gazing at her near picture perfect recreation. “This is… It’s perfect, truly.”
The aforementioned Miss Huang, standing just to Ningguang’s left, smiles. “Thank you, Lady Ningguang.”
Not only is there not a single mistake on Ningguang’s person in the commissioned portrait, but the techniques used in each little stroke of the brush is masterfully perfect. “I must admit, I had my doubts about you,” she remarks. She turns back to the young artist behind her. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I have heard wonderful things about your work, and I have even seen some of your pieces displayed around Liyue. It’s all very impressive, but considering your young age, and the short deadline you set yourself, I was very certain you were being overconfident in your abilities.”
Miss Huang laughs, cheeks flushing. “Oh, oh you flatter, truly. In truth, I was a little worried I would not get this done before Lantern Rite, along with my other commissions, but I am very fortunate to have finished in time.”
“The colours, the techniques… Pray tell, Miss Huang, how did a young artist such as yourself become so skilled in the arts?”
Miss Huang’s cheeks flush more. “Well, Lady Ningguang, I am not that young. It has taken me years upon years in order for me to have become this proficient with painting alone.”
Ningguang raises an eyebrow. “And just how old might you be?”
The artist laughs. “You know it is in poor taste to ask a woman their age.”
Ningguang smirks. “Ah, I suppose you are right. Still, if this is what a rush job from you looks like, I expect a piece given your undivided attention and all the time in the world would be uncannily lifelike, no?”
“I, ah, I would not say this is a rush job, but I see what you mean, my lady.”
“Very well.” Her gaze lingers on the painting once more. “I once again must thank you for your work. It really is an impressive piece, and especially in such a short period of time. Really, I am surprised at how short you are selling yourself.”
“Ah, Lady Ningguang-”
“I’m serious, Miss Huang.” Ningguang strides over to the desk nearby, where her purse is sitting. “A talent like yours should be rewarded handsomely, lest it be taken advantage of or for granted.” She opens her bag and, after a moment, she produces a bag of mora. “This here is your final payment for the piece…” She hands it to the artist before turning back to the purse, pulling out another, slightly larger bag. “And this, well, I was going to take an amount out of this bag for a tip, depending on how well the piece turned out, but…” She places it in the artist’s hand as well. “Considering how much you are underselling yourself, and how lovely the final product is, you can just take this.”
Miss Huang’s eyes widen as they feel the weight of the bag. This is easily more than the actual total cost of the painting from the initial planning stages to the full finished product. “I-I, my goodness, Lady Ningguang, you… You do not have to-”
“I will not hear another word of it,” she says, “I know what my time is worth, and you should know what yours is worth as well. Besides, it’s no dent in my wallet. I have an appreciation for the arts, and want to ensure each artist has been compensated fairly for their time and effort. Miss Yun can testify herself. Say, is it true her troupe had approached you to design the set of her new show?”
Miss Huang swallows, composes themself, and nods. “Yes, she had asked me to create some set pieces. Unfortunately, I have been very busy with Lantern Rite preparations and my other commissions, so instead I sent the troupe various designs and sketches they could give to other set and prop designers, as opposed to making the pieces myself.”
“What sort of preparations, if I may ask?”
Miss Huang smiles. “We’re hosting a private celebration for our friends and family,” they explain. “It is very rare for all of us to be in the same place nowadays. We all have different lives, careers, plans, and that’s even before you bring in the little ones.” For a moment, their expression becomes sentimental, before they continue on. “As such, we always make an effort to gather for Lantern Rite. It’s nice to see some old faces, and the children are always so excited to see each other.”
Ningguang smiles at the mention of children. “That sounds lovely. Pardon me if this seems a little too personal, Miss Huang, but do you perhaps have children of your own?”
Miss Huang beams. “I do, actually. They’re the absolute loves of my life, and I’m lucky to be their mother. Ah, just thinking about having this big family celebration is making me feel sentimental… and a little nervous, admittedly. It feels like there is still so much to be done.”
“If that is the case, then please, do not let me keep you,” Ningguang tells the artist. She bows. “Once again, I thank you for such a lovely portrait. I hope you and your family have a wonderful Lantern Rite.”
“Thank you for having me, my lady.”
Ningguang watches Miss Huang gather their things and step out of her office. She looks back to the portrait of herself once the door closes shut behind them. It really is quite beautiful, and to think they were going to give it to her for what would amount to chump change, merely breaking even on the cost of resources as opposed to making a profit off of it.
She can’t help but wonder about this mysterious little artist. She had heard near nothing about this young woman, and then suddenly it turns out they are an extremely talented artist? They have various pieces on display, ranging from paintings of all varieties to even sculptures, though those are actually few and far between. It was especially shocking seeing as they look no older than twenty two, maybe twenty three, and even if they are older than they appear, how much older? Certainly not old enough to have this much experience while looking that young. Ninggaung’s beauty has been with her since youth, but even still, no one is that good at looking younger than they truly are. Perhaps they have received a personal blessing from the Mother of Arts herself.
She wonders how many children they have. She wonders how old they would be, if they’re still “little ones” or if they’re old enough to have some of their own. She doubts that, because surely Miss Huang would definitely have some signs of age, even if it’s simple crow’s feet or laugh lines. She wonders if they have a husband, or wife, or spouse, or none.
Interestingly, though, she wonders where in Teyvat they got their hairpin - a dark wooden stick with a white lotus on the end, little beads dangling from the flower itself. It’s easily the oldest part of their attire, as though it is very well cared for, there are simple signs of aging that no amount of restoration can truly wipe away, lest one completely remakes the piece from scratch. She wonders how old it is, and where they even got it. Perhaps it is a family heirloom of sorts?
There’s a knock on her door, and a member of the Millelith calls for her. She shakes her head, and approaches the door. Much like Miss Huang, she has very important matters to attend to before Lantern Rite is set to start.
The ever busy streets of Liyue Harbour find themselves a little fuller today. With the Lantern Rite just on the horizon, it is enough to bring visitors from afar to partake in the festivities. It is hard not to find a decorated storefront or a bustling business, with customers running in and out of shops to grab any last minute items and workers trying to keep everyone in line.
The street grows slightly busier as the doors to the theatre open, and the audience of the last show pour out, chattering on about the show and its performers. The people share their thoughts on not just the spectacular performance, but also discuss the accuracy of the tale that was adapted.
Two men step out of the building, and the doors close shut behind them. The oldest of the two is quiet, and has been for the majority of the show. They begin to walk down the street, with the younger man leading the way.
He turns to face the older gentleman, grinning. “Quite the show, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hm?” The gentleman blinks, having been brought out of his thoughts. “Ah, yes. The performance really was quite wonderful. Miss Yun’s talents never cease to amaze.”
“I’m surprised this is the first I’m hearing about the Geo Wife herself,” the younger man says, sunlight shining off his fiery head of hair. “I mean, she seems like a pretty significant part of Liyue’s history. You would think they would have her actual name on record and not just her titles, right Mr. Zhongli?”
Zhongli nods. “The Geo Wife, even in their mortal life at the monastery, was never known to be particularly social. They preferred solitude and privacy. They rarely ever made public appearances, which is why it is still debated as to what their true name or face was.”
“She still seems very interesting,” the redhead remarks. “I mean, you ask one person, and she’s a love and fertility goddess, the mother of arts, gingko trees and silk flowers. Ask someone else, and she is the Blood Queen, an omen of vengeance, and a symbol of protection to ward off evil. Haha, she’s got an interesting reputation, that’s for sure.”
Zhongli smiles, and he nods. “You say that as though they cannot be all of those things.”
The two continue on their way, and slowly, the smell of street food goes stronger. The leader shrugs. “Not at all. It’s actually rather impressive. I’m just curious as to how one would even acquire all of those titles.”
Zhongli laughs. “Well, Childe, I would be more than willing to explain the significance of each title over a bite to eat. The excitement of the play has left me rather peckish.”
Childe grins. “You’ve read my mind, comrade. Let’s see what they have on the menu today.”
The scent of cooked vegetables and seasoned meats make the many mouths wandering the market water. The same goes for the two men traversing the street, looking for the perfect meal to satiate their hunger. Childe struggles to choose a meal, as everything looks amazing and smells even better, but eating something from every vendor isn’t feasible, and would surely do him in if it was. Zhongli on the other hand also struggles to pick something, but more so because the scent of fish from some of these vendors puts him off his appetite slightly. They weigh their options, and eventually find something to eat.
“The title of Blood Queen, or Regina Sanguine, is not as brutal as one might expect,” Zhongli explains, “it is more so a reference to their origins as a mortal, as they were a being of flesh and blood.”
Childe hums, swallowing the bite of meat in his mouth. “I figured it was a reference to their husband the Warrior God.”
“I am not saying it’s not,” Zhongli elaborates, “but it was not the primary inspiration.” He pauses for a moment to take a bite of his radish balls, chewing and swallowing before he continues on. “The silk flowers are in reference to their dress being made from silk flowers, as well as just being their favourite flower. The love and fertility goddess come from how their story focuses heavily on wedding ceremonies and family, which is also why silk flowers have since become a staple in marriage ceremonies in one way or another.”
“What about the ginkgo trees?”
“The monastery they were raised in had a lot of ginkgo trees.”
Childe chuckles. “I was expecting something more profound, but who am I to dictate how gods and goddesses are named?”
“For what it is worth,” Zhongli adds, “ginkgo trees can be seen as symbols of endurance and hope, which I feel are very applicable to Regina Sanguine.”
Childe sinks his teeth into his mora meat, and waits for his friend to continue.
“Mother of arts is self explanatory, seeing as their works have influenced the culture of Liyue and inspired subsequent art movements,” Zhongli says, “and their being used as a symbol of vengeance or protection against evil comes from the story of Abbess Cheng Gho.”
“Oh yeah,” Childe says, “I was wondering what happened with her.”
“She attacked Regina Sanguine while they were visiting the monastery,” Zhongli recounts, “and Rex Lapis turned the woman to stone as punishment for the torment she had inflicted on his wife their whole life.”
Childe nods along, and pops the final bite of his meal into his mouth. He stops walking, glancing around to see what else there is to do at this very moment. It’s still fairly early in the evening, so there should still be something fun to do. Perhaps the two could get drinks?
“Say, Mr. Zhongli,” Childe says, turning around to the gentleman accompanying him, “what would you say to…”
In the, what was it, hardly even five seconds Childe had his eyes off Zhongli, the man completely vanished into thin air. Groups of people pass the young harbinger by, which do not help him in looking for Zhongli. Now where in Teyvat could that man have run off to so quickly?
He starts to wander, occasionally calling out Zhongli’s name to no response. As moments drag on, he wonders if it’s even really worth it to chase the funeral consultant down. He knows his way around Liyue, so it’s not as if he will get lost. Still, the young man is a little miffed by the sudden abandonment.
He turns a corner at the same time as someone else, colliding right into them. He staggers a little, as does the person he collided with, but they both quickly regain their balances. He looks up and sees he’s run into a rather tall woman, wearing fine clothing with her long dark hair tied up in a half updo and held in place with a lotus hairpin.
“Oh, my apologies, miss! I should have been paying closer attention.”
The woman chuckles, and seemingly sizes him up, staring him down with vibrant amber eyes. Her voice is velvety smooth. “You really should have, but no matter.” She brushes down her dress, smoothing out the new wrinkles. “So long as you are not hurt, no harm, no foul.”
“... Ah, right!” Childe replies, focusing on the conversation instead of how familiar this woman looks to him. “Yes, I’m fine. It takes more than a little run in to knock me down!”
“Glad to hear that,” the woman replies, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I am meeting up with my sister right now and must be on my way.”
Before Childe can get another word in, the tall woman walks past him without so much as a second glance. He watches her until she vanishes into a nearby crowd. He chuckles. He’s never met this woman in his life, but he knows the smirk, the hair, and he definitely knows the eyes.
“Oh, there you are.”
Childe turns and sees Zhongli, and sees he is holding a bouquet.
He gestures to the flowers. “So that’s where you ran off to, huh?”
“Yes,” Zhongli replies, “I saw them at a nearby stand and had to get them for my beloved.”
Childe raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Since when did you get a beloved?”
Zhongli gives Childe a knowing smile. “I’ve been with them for… quite some time. They’re rather private about their personal life, and no one has ever asked me about them.”
Childe returns the smile with an equally knowing grin. “In that case, congratulations! I’m sure they’ll love the flowers.”
Zhongli holds the bouquet close, and he can smell the silk flowers. “I’m certain they will.”
“Girlie, get down!”
Lumine jumps back, and feels the air shift past as the arrow just barely misses her face. It sticks itself into the nearest tree, splitting the bark. She hardly has the chance to react to being shot at before a hilichurl rushes her, swinging a blade down to split her skull down the middle. She quickly throws her blade up, the sharp clang of metal hitting metal grating on the ears.
The shooter loads up another arrow into its crossbow, but does not even have the chance to raise its weapon before an arrow immediately punctures through its mask. It goes down in an instant, and the hilichurl hidden behind it doesn’t fare much better, not when Childe immediately rushes in, blades at the ready to slice the thing to ribbons. It’s pitiful, really, but if they all wanted a fight, then they’re getting their fight.
Lumine knocks back her attacker, and as it staggers back, she takes the chance to thrust her sword forward. It pierces the hilichurl’s chest. When it goes limp, she draws back her blade, and hears shrieking to her right. Another hilichurl, rushing her way. Paimon cowers behind her, and she takes a step back, bracing herself to counter attack.
Childe withdraws from the massacred creatures, slain by his own hands, and turns to see his comrade bracing herself for an attack between the trees. They make eye contact, and the plan is made. He immediately forgoes his blades for his bow, drawing the string back and taking aim for when the enemy is in his direct sight.
Lumine waits with bated breath, prepared to knock the hilichurl back with a hard gust of wind, as it gets closer and closer and-
There’s a pulse of yellow right before her eyes, and the hilichurl falls back, ranting and raving in its indecipherable tongue. Childe, surprised, lowers his bow to watch the show before him. The hilichurl gets back up, shakes its head, before attempting to rush forward again. Just like before, there’s a flash of translucent yellow with a golden diamond pattern repeated over and over again. The hilichurl falls back, and the three fighters just look at it, bewildered.
“It can’t reach us!” Paimon comments. “What’s the yellow thing?”
“I’m not really sure,” Lumine answers, watching the hilichurl get up once more, “it must be some sort of forcefield.”
Childe begins to walk forward. They all watch this hilichurl run for Lumine for the third time, only to hit the strange shield and fall back, much like a small child running face first into a glass door. Childe takes pity on the thing, and quickly puts an arrow between where its eyes would be.
“Well isn’t this an interesting sight,” he remarks, “I think I’ve seen Mr. Zhongli do something like this, but on a much smaller scale.”
Lumine squints at the air, trying to see if there’s any sign of this odd shield. She lifts her hand and reaches out. There’s nothing there for her to see or touch. Paimon hovers around her, also looking for a sign of something being there.
“Paimon wonders what a shield like this would be doing in the middle of the forest.”
“Perhaps it’s to keep intruders out,” Lumine offers.
“Or to keep something in,” Childe adds.
“Oh! Oh! What if it’s a super secret treasure?” Paimon asks.
Childe shrugs. “Either way, a forcefield like that means that somewhere in these woods, there’s something they don’t want hilichurl hands touching.” He steps forward, past the point of the hilichurl. He hums. “Since it doesn’t seem to have a problem with us walking through it, I say that’s as much of an invitation as any!”
With curiosities piqued and nothing better to get up to at this very moment, the trio begin to trek deeper into the forest. When the adrenaline of the fight finally wears off, they find the walk to be rather peaceful. There is a tranquil quiet found only in nature, and there is beautifully lush plant life flourishing, but there is something more to it. It’s not just the simple peace of a walk through the forest, there is something in the air that feels… safe.
“Paimon’s not seeing a lot of treasure…”
Lumine just shakes her head. “We’ve only been walking for a few minutes, that isn’t a lot of distance. Besides, we don’t know there is treasure here.”
Childe chuckles. “Like I said, maybe it’s not just keeping hilichurls out. Maybe it’s keeping something even worse inside.”
“That is not funny!” Paimon complains. Childe just shrugs, grinning.
“I jest,” he says, “if there really was a big ferocious beast or something of the like, I doubt it would let us walk through if it wouldn’t let hilichurls through. Seems counterintuitive if you ask me.”
“Maybe it is to keep this part of the forest safe,” Lumine offers. “I can see some rare flora growing here, and it all looks to be in good health and abundance. Perhaps it’s to keep others from over harvesting resources.”
“Oh! Maybe it’s the home of an adeptus!” Paimon suggests.
“A little trespassing never hurt anyone,” Childe jokes.
“Probably because we rarely get trespassers here.”
The group do not hesitate in drawing their weapons, save for Paimon who hides behind the two more adept fighters. They immediately turn in the direction of the voice, ready for an attack, only to immediately back down when they see the man standing before them. Confusion sets in.
Paimon floats out from behind Lumine. “Mr. Zhongli? What are you doing all the way out here, and when did you cut your hair?”
The man tilts his head, perplexed. “Mr. Zhongli?”
It’s immediately clear that this is not the consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. Though their faces are nearly identical, there are at the very least subtle differences in the face structure and eye shape, though their eyes are the exact same colour. His shorter, messy hair is dark, though the light amber it fades into is not as vibrant. His voice, while deeper, is not as deep as Zhongli’s, and it lacks the slight rasp. Additionally, while Zhongli has one tassel earring, the man before them has both ears pierced, adorned with cor lapis and a metal, fan shaped leaf at the bottom.
Paimon floats closer to get a better look at him. “Oh, you’re not Mr. Zhongli, are you? But you look the same as him!”
“I don’t…” The man blinks, and the group can see him smile. “Oh, I see who you’re talking about now.”
“You do?” Paimon asks.
The man turns to the woman coming to collect her smaller companion. “You must be Lumine, correct? And this is Paimon?”
“Yes, we are,” Lumine answers.
The man then turns to Childe. “You are… Tartaglia, correct? The little harbinger that’s been running around Liyue?”
Childe laughs. “Rather bold of you to call a harbinger little right to his face, sir. Now, who are you?”
The man smiles. “I’m Yánjiāng, it’s a pleasant surprise to finally meet you all.”
“Yánjiāng?” Paimon asks.
“Oh! I’ve heard of you!” Childe points to the man. “You’re Princeps Magma, one of Rex Lapis’ children.”
The man, Yánjiāng, nods. His hands and eyes begin to glow, and his form changes shape. The skin of his arms grow darker, with familiar gold markings accenting them. From the top of his head form a set of amber horns, and he sprouts a dark tail ending in an orange tuft. “Indeed I am. Seeing as you know who I am, I suppose I do not need to hide my more adeptal features.”
“Explains why you don’t fear calling me a little harbinger.”
“No, I don’t fear it because it’s true. You are a little harbinger.” Yánjiāng turns to Lumine and Paimon. “As I was saying, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m surprised you’re even here, to be quite honest. The timing is perfect.”
“What do you mean by that?” Paimon asks.
“My family has gathered at the monastery ahead for Lantern Rite,” he explains, “and seeing as you’ve all made it this far into the woods and are looking a little worse for wear, I think we can all agree you are in need of some rest and a good meal.”
“Oh, Paimon is starving! Paimon cannot wait to see what is for dinner!”
Yánjiāng laughs. “Unfortunately, dinner is still quite a ways away, but we have snacks prepared to pacify the younger children.” He begins walking ahead, motioning for the trio to follow him. “Come now, we’re not too far from the monastery.”
Lumine looks to Childe, asking quietly if they should go ahead. Paimon, however, immediately flies ahead, joining their surprise guide. Lumine shakes her head, chuckling, before trekking forward with Childe.
A set of small hands settle on the edge of the counter, a set of golden eyes staring right at their target. They wait for a moment, just to make sure no one is looking or will be looking, especially the tall figure standing right in front of their goal. He presses down on the top of the mold, and when he carefully lifts it up, there is now a mooncake on the pan, and it’s within reach of the little hands. When he turns away to talk to his partner, he also creates an opportunity for someone to swipe the delicious treat. Quietly, one of the hands, outstretched and open, stealthily reaches across the countertop, fingers mere millimetres from their goal-
“Heng, don’t touch.”
Like touching a hot stove, the little boy, four years old now, snatches his hand back and looks up at the figure. He’s not even looking his way, more preoccupied with helping a slightly older child, his seven year old sister, with wrapping the bean paste in dough. Once she has figured it out, the man takes the ball and sets it down on the pan. He glances down at little Heng, and he smiles.
“How did you see me? I was so sneaky!”
Zhongli doesn’t have it in his heart to tell the boy that four year olds are rarely successful in being stealthy, especially when they’re trying to literally steal food from right under a supervising adult’s nose. “It is very hard to sneak past me,” he says instead, “for I know all the little tricks.”
The boy pouts, still eyeing the mooncakes. “Mama said I can have a snack.”
“I do not think she meant the mooncakes,” Zhongli tells the poor boy. “We need to make sure there is enough for everyone, and the cakes haven’t been cooked yet.”
Heng continues to mope. He watches Zhongli mold another mooncake on the pan with envy and boredom. He sighs loudly, with the dramatics only a young child can manage.
Zhongli sets the mold down, and he crouches down to Heng’s level. “I’m sure if you asked your uncle nicely, he might have some candy from Mondstadt for you to try.”
Heng’s eyes light up, and he grins. “Okay!”
The young boy scampers out of the kitchen, and his sister watches him leave. She looks up at Zhongli, a ball of paste in her hand, and then she turns to the woman right next to her. She doesn’t say anything, mostly because she doesn’t need to.
You smile. “You can go if you want to, Mei.”
“Okay, but I’ll finish the dough first,” she says. Carefully, she flattens the dough out, setting the paste in the centre. Just as she was shown, she gently wraps it up, dark burgundy now hidden under light copper. She rolls it in her hand to make sure it is perfectly round before handing it to Zhongli. Once he takes it, the girl is off, but not before washing her sticky hands.
Zhongli turns to you. “At least that bard is good for something.”
“Don’t be rude,” you tell him, though you’re smiling as you do. “You have to admit, he takes a load off our shoulders when it comes to the little ones.”
He presses the mold down on Mei’s mooncake. “Like I said, he’s good for something.”
You take an egg yolk and encase it in a blob of red bean paste. “This is the last of the yolks,” you say, “so once we get this last batch into the oven, we will finally be done.”
Zhongli nods. You place the ball in his hand, and he immediately takes it, wraps it in dough, puts it on the pan and presses it down with the mold.
He’s about to take the pan to put it in the oven, when someone knocks on the doorframe of the kitchen. The two of you turn, seeing it is Lihua, your oldest daughter. She still has the hairpin you got her in her hair.
She looks to Zhongli. “Baba, you have some visitors.”
You and Zhongli exchange looks. Visitors? Visitors? Forget the fact the monastery and surrounding empty village are remote enough as is, but how in Teyvat would anyone know he’s here? The only people who would know are your family and the other adepti.
“Who is it?” Zhongli asks.
“One of them is the man I literally ran into the other day,” Lihua explains, “apparently he’s a harbinger, and the other two are the traveller and her weird… baby thing. I don’t know what to call it.”
“Lumine and Paimon?” you ask. Lihua nods.
Zhongli chuckles. “Why am I not surprised?”
“We’ll be out in a moment,” you tell your daughter, “we’re just finishing up with the mooncakes.”
“I will let them know,” Lihua replies, before she steps out of the kitchen and disappears from sight.
You glance up at Zhongli. “I’m not sure how I feel about a harbinger here,” you tell him.
He gives you a reassuring smile. “I assure you, my darling,” he says, “of all the harbingers, Childe is one of the more personable, and would not dare try anything so brash. Not that he would get the chance, of course.”
“I suppose if he is travelling with Lumine,” you remark, “then perhaps it is okay.”
Zhongli leans over and kisses you on the cheek. “All will be alright.” He turns back to the counter and takes the pan. “Now, let’s get these in the oven before Heng tries to steal them again.”
Paimon, as she is known to do, grows impatient with waiting around, even when she is stuffing her face. Childe, recalling the events of the play he had seen the other day, is equally as antsy as little Paimon. After a few moments of sitting in the courtyard, he stands to his feet and turns to his companions.
“I’m not sure about you two,” he says, watching a gaggle of golden eyed children chase a very familiar, very joyous bard, “but when I enter an ancient monastery of legend, I’m very inclined to explore it.”
“But Yánjiāng said he would be right back with the others,” Lumine replies, “surely we can wait a few more moments.”
“Paimon’s sick of waiting,” says her floating guide, “and besides, it’s not a big monastery. Paimon thinks that they wouldn’t have to look too hard to find us. Paimon’s been curious about that little building at the end of that trail since we arrived.”
“What trail?” Lumine asks.
“I think she means the trail to the shrine,” Childe answers, pointing to a trail a little ways away across the courtyard. “If memory serves right, that would be the shrine that keeps the village and monastery protected.”
“That must be the weird forcefield,” Paimon adds. “Come on, just one quick look, and we can come right back!”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Lumine relents, “though we should be very careful. If we damage anything, Zhongli may be unable to fix it.”
“Paimon promises not to touch the shrine, now let’s go!”
Little flowers line the path towards the shrine, the stone path worn down over the centuries. Nearby, just to the side of the trail, is an overgrown stone structure. The three recognize the shape immediately, for they have seen Zhongli summon very similar structures from the sky. It is covered in moss and lichen, tangled in vines. It’s been here for a very, very long time.
Eventually, the three make their way inside the altar room at the very end of the trail, and for a moment, they are in awe.
Murals are painted all over the walls, depicting many figures that Childe quickly identifies with the recent memory of the play. He sees Regina Sanguine, depicted in some scenes as a young sister of the monastery, and in others she is clad in red and surrounded by silk flowers. In one, she is seen being embraced by two ethereal figures, her birth parents. He sees the comforting motherly figure, and quickly sees it is Sister Li Lei, the woman who travelled through Liyue to find the girl she raised as her own. He sees Abbess Cheng Gho, and he sees a scene of what must have been her demise, being shattered into a million pieces. He sees Rex Lapis, and he sees their children.
He points out each figure and scene, recounting each tale from his recent memory. “Princeps Magma, the prince of lava, Yánjiāng. He’s their oldest child.” He points to the figure next to Yánjiāng. “Regina Metamorphose, who controls and creates metamorphic rocks, though in some books I found, they referred to her as Princeps Metamorphose.”
Paimon is listening, but is more focused on the strange shrine itself. “Paimon thinks that is a strange mistake to make, especially regarding the children of Rex Lapis.”
Childe moves on to the next figure. “This is Regina Sedimentum, who can manipulate sediment and use it to create fossils, glass, and clay for pottery.”
“Makes sense,” Lumine comments, “seeing she is the daughter of the Geo Archon and the Mother of Arts.”
Finally, Childe lands on the final two. “And these are the twins, Princeps Metallum and Regina Crystallo. One controls metal, the other controls crystals.”
“Five children,” Lumine says, “they must have been quite the handful.”
The three ae disturbed when they hear footsteps behind them, only to see Zhongli. He chuckles. “They certainly were.”
Another, shorter figure emerges from behind him. “This is quite the surprise, you two.”
Lumine’s surprise is evident. “Miss Huang?”
“Hello Lumine,” you reply, smiling, “and hello Paimon.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of you,” Childe says, “I heard the Regrator considered commissioning some artwork to display in one of his offices.”
“That’s, huh. That is the first I’m hearing about this.”
“What are you doing here?” Lumine asks.
“And why does the shrine look like you?” Childe and Lumine look to Paimon.
She points to the statue at the very end, sitting atop a pedestal. The two approach, getting a better look at the shrine. Legends said it was a statue of Rex Lapis, very similar to the ones around Liyue. In his hand was the seal, a cube of solid amber. When it broke, it was swiftly repaired using kintsugi, and the seal was replaced by Rex Lapis. That is not the statue here.
The statue here depicts a young woman, sitting on her knees. She holds an amber cube in her lap, one hand cradling the bottom while the other sits on top. She is wrapped in a large cloak, with geo symbols engraved into it. The face that has been chiseled into the stone is identical to that of Miss Huang’s.
“See? It looks just like them!”
Childe and Lumine turn around, staring at you.
You smile and shake your head. “I suppose there is no point in keeping it a secret anymore.”
“Wait, Miss Huang…”
You gesture to the shrine. “That’s me, roughly two thousand years ago.”
“You’re Regina Sanguine?” Childe asks.
You nod.
“You’re the Mother of Arts?” Lumine asks.
“I personally think the title gives me a little too much credit,” you say, “but yes.”
“You had five kids?!” Paimon asks.
You smile. “I certainly did! I still have the stretch marks to prove it.”
“Are the other children running around yours as well?” Lumine asks. “I noticed they all seem to have the same eyes as Mr. Zhongli.”
You laugh. “Oh, oh goodness no. Those are our grandchildren.”
“What?!” Paimon yells.
“You’re a grandfather?” Childe asks Zhongli.
“Great grandfather now,” Zhongli replies, “Yánjiāng’s oldest just had her first child.”
“Huh.” Childe crosses his arms, thinking over the new information. “I suppose it would make sense, but still, it’s quite the surprise.”
You motion for your guests to follow you. “Come along, dinner will be ready soon, and our family would love to meet you personally.”
Over the course of the next hour or so, while everyone is getting ready for dinner and wrangling the younger kids, you take the time to introduce the unexpected trio to your prides and joys.
The three have already met Yánjiāng, so they do not dwell long on introductions. He is straightforward, but friendly. His demeanor reminds you of a younger Morax, back when he was initially toning down his brutish nature. Yánjiāng is nowhere near as fiery as his father once was, ironically, but he’s had his hotheaded moments growing up.
Next is Lihua, who upon meeting Childe, says “I believe you literally ran into me the other day.”
He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “My apologies, Miss Lihua. No hard feelings?”
Her tail swishes, and wraps around his ankle. She pulls it, and he falls flat on the ground. She smirks. “Not anymore.”
Childe stares up at her, and he grins. “Hey now, comrade, I didn’t knock you completely over like that.”
“Maybe not,” she says, “but will you really pick a fight with Rex Lapis’ favourite child?”
Yánjiāng scoffs. “Oh please, you are not the favourite.”
“Neither are you,” Lihua replies, “you’re favourite son at best, and even then, you only got that because I wanted favourite daughter.”
“And all your hard work paid off for nothing,” chimes in the voice of your youngest daughter. She leans down and helps Childe up off the ground, ignoring the offence of her sister. “I’m Yaling, and this is my brother Feng,” she says, gesturing to the man behind her. Though they are not identical, they both share the most resemblance with you and the same horn shapes all your children have.
“Has anyone seen Zhusha?” Feng asks, looking around at his siblings.
“I think she’s helping mother pry the children off of Uncle Xiao,” Yaling answers.
Yánjiāng chuckles. “Ah, right. That explains why he’s been so scarce.”
“Paimon never thought Xiao would be a fan of kids,” Paimon comments.
“Oh, no, he’s absolutely not,” Yánjiāng replies, “but he makes an exception for us.”
Zhongli pokes his head out of the dining hall door. “Dinner’s ready.”
“In a moment!” Yaling replies, using her tail to dust some of the dirt off of Childe’s pants. Zhongli nods, and then retreats back into the dining hall.
The group makes their way inside, and the smell of all the abundant, homemade dishes makes everyone’s mouths water. Childe gets stuck at the “kid’s table” which to be fair, most of those “kids” are young adults or teenagers now, with only a few of them being under ten. He doesn’t seem to mind, thriving off the attention the little ones give him as he regales them with tales from back home. Lumine and Paimon sit down with Xiao and Venti, which both seem pleased with. Venti especially, as he immediately begins pouring drinks for the two girls.
Once the pleasant chaos of dinner is over and done with, everyone makes their way outside. Yánjiāng and Lihua are already getting lanterns ready, handing them out to all the excited children. With guidance from their parents, they release them into the air, watching with wondrous entertainment as they join the lanterns that can be seen in the distance.
Zhongli sighs deeply, a smile on his face. Two thousand Lantern Rites later, and he has yet to grow tired of it, not when he can spend it with his flesh and blood like this. Your flesh and blood.
He turns, and pauses. Odd, you were just at his side not a moment ago. He looks around. Yánjiāng is holding his grandchild, showing off all the pretty lanterns to the little baby. Lihua is talking with Zhusha, who out of all the children, definitely looks the most like you. Feng is preoccupied with Heng and Mei. It seems Heng might have stolen something from his older sister. Yaling is busy talking with Lumine and Paimon, and Zhongli catches glimpses of Childe running past with a child or two on his back.
Still, there’s not a single sign of you.
… Not here, anyways.
The orchard feels especially quiet, knowing that, other than your family staying at the monastery, there is no one out here. The village has been empty for quite some time. It was no horrific tragedy, like a plague or a curse. People left over the years, and considering how small and remote it is, or was, it got to the point where there were more people passing than there were babies being born. It is sad, yes, but that is how things go sometimes. Friends move away, lovers move on, and parents leave their children.
You know the footprints coming closer to you, and give Zhongli… no, Morax. No matter the form, he is still Morax.
You give Morax a smile, and he sits down next to you.
“I thought I would find you here,”’ he says, taking your hand in his.
You shrug. “Old habits die hard, as they say.”
“I take it you are overwhelmed?”
You sigh. “Very,” you say. “You would think that after two millenia, I would be better with social gatherings, but they’re still draining.”
“You’ve done very well tonight,” he says, “why, even five hundred years ago, I don’t think you would have stuck it out this long without retreating to somewhere quieter.”
You lean over, resting your head on Morax’s shoulder. “Thank you, I… I needed that.”
Morax chuckles. “Doesn’t this feel familiar?” he asks. “I think it was this exact spot, over two thousand years ago, where I first promised you I would give you a happy life.”
You remember that night so clearly, even today. You remember crying, and you remember how warm and comforting Morax’s embrace felt, even in your anxiety riddled mind. You wonder what they would have thought, the you of the past, if they had known that, despite the rough start, it would have been the best thing that happened to you.
“Have I kept my promise?”
“Hm?”
Morax turns his body so he is facing you. He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it with overwhelming reverence in such a simple gesture. “Did I give you a happy life?”
“Of course,” you answer without hesitation, “you… You’re the best thing to happen to me. If it weren’t for you… I refuse to consider it.”
“I’m glad,” he says, still holding your hand. His expression is soft, but you do not miss the somber look in his eyes.
You pull your hand out of his and place it on his cheek. He leans into it out of habit, like he has every time you’ve done it for the past two thousand years. Your voice is soft, so only he can hear. “You’re worried. What for?”
“...” He sighs. “I’m thinking about when I gave up my gnosis, when… I faked my death. I knew you would be fine, seeing as I had not actually died, but you didn’t know that.”
You remember most of that day very well, some of it being blocked by the stress or simply forgotten to focus on the bigger details. You were in your studio, working on an upcoming piece. You left a sign saying not to disturb you, which was ignored by the woman who owns the building itself. She came in and told you the news that Rex Lapis had perished.
You remember she left the room, and your thoughts came to a stop. You thought about her words. Rex Lapis. Dead. Rex Lapis. Morax. Your husband.
Your husband is dead.
All at once, you felt your sternum, the entirety of your rib cage caving in on itself and crushing the air from your lungs. You didn’t even have the air to scream and sob, you couldn’t breathe at all. Your stomach was contorting, and you swore you tasted bile as your legs gave out. Tears and snot ran down your face, your hunched from shaking. No, no no no no he can’t be dead he can’t be dead he can’t be dead not yet not now not ever NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!
You woke up to Dr. Baizhu’s face hovering above yours, and the building owner not too far. Apparently you had suffered a massive panic attack, and she found you passed out. When he had ensured you were in good enough health, he sent you on your way with a prescription and instructions to take a few days off.
When you returned home, you saw Morax, or rather Zhongli, in the dining room, preparing some tea. You made eye contact, and you just… snapped. You screamed at him, asking him what the fuck did you do and other phrases you either cannot remember, or do not want to remember.
“... You really scared me,” you tell him, “I know you were doing what was best, and I know you have to abide by your contracts, but… I-I didn’t even remember the bond, how my life is tied to yours, I just thought about the children, a-and how I was losing one of the few p-people I have left from my past, and…” You stop yourself when you feel tears welling in your eyes. You wipe your eyes with your free hand, and take a deep breath. “I’d never been that scared before, not even when Cheng Gho tore my hair out. L-Last time I was even close to that was when you came home injured from the war.”
Morax blinks, a tear sliding down his cheek and touching your palm. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am to have scared you like that,” he tells you. “I have done too much of that at the start of our marriage, and I promised you and myself that I would never, ever put you through something like that.”
You take a deep breath, and you smile at him. “You can make it up to me in the next two millenia.”
“That’s another thing.” He lifts his head up from your hand. “I… I do not know how giving up my gnosis will affect our bond. We could continue as we are, or…”
“... Or?”
Morax takes your hands in both of his. “I have given up my life as Rex Lapis,” he states, “and embraced the life of Zhongli. A man, a mortal. I may age, and grow old, and if I do, then you surely will, as well.” He leans in, and he presses his forehead to yours. “Would… Would you be okay with that?”
…
You laugh, and Morax gives you an incredulous look. “What are you laughing for?”
You grin, tears in your eyes. “Who else would I want to grow old with?” you ask. “Morax, I have known and loved you for two thousand years. I have been with you through two weddings, five children, nine grandchildren, a great grandchild, and too many funerals. Do you really think a few wrinkles and grey hairs will be enough to drive me away?”
Morax stares at you, his eyes wide and face blank. He says nothing, just staring at your teary eyed, smiling face. You gently take his face in your hands.
He blinks, and tears pour out of his eyes, and he roars with laughter. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his body, laughing and crying into your shoulder. You laugh and cry with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hugging him just as tight as he does you.
“I love you,” he chants, “I love you, I really do. My love, my darling, my wife, my life.”
“I love you too,” you tell him, “I love you, and I will love you even after we are forgotten by Liyue.”
He pulls back, and he is still grinning. “I will love you after we forget our names and faces, and I will love you after we are nothing but stardust. Should love be a forgotten word in any language, I will love you even then.”
You lean in and press your lips to his. He’s still smiling, as are you, and you two hold each other like this for a time. You do not care how long.
He pulls back from you, and he chuckles. “Please, you are free to laugh, but I have an idea, my darling.”
“Go ahead.”
“Regina Sanguine is married to Rex Lapis,” he says, “but as far as Liyue knows… Zhongli and Miss Huang are unwed.”
You laugh. “You want to get married again?”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do!” You peck his lips. “I’ll marry you a million times if I have to.”
“Do not tempt me, my darling.”
You take a deep breath, and wipe your eyes. Morax pulls you closer, setting you in his lap and holding you to his frame. You rest your head on his shoulder, and sigh, pleased.
“The others are probably wondering what we’re doing,” you say.
Morax rests his head against yours, and his eyes slide closed. “Most likely, but I’m sure they could wait a moment more, no?”
Your eyes close as well. “... Yes, they can wait a little longer.”
Morax links his fingers between yours, his thumb stroking your hand lightly. You hum, enjoying his warmth, enjoying the quiet rustle of the breeze through the ginkgo trees. He basks in your fragrance of fate’s yearning and sunsettias, in the familiar softness of your hand in his.
You will have to return to the monastery at some point, to make sure all is well, but there is no urgency. It is just you, and it is just your husband, sitting under the ginkgo trees. It is just you two, and it is okay. Everything will be okay.