Chapter Text
The former Geo Archon sat in his usual seat on the balcony space near Northland Bank, listening intently to Liu Su’s tale of Rex Lapis and Osial. He smiled into his Oolong tea, letting the thin billows of steam waft over his cheeks.
“This tale begins two thousand years prior. The days then were not ones of peace, as you and I remember…” Liu Su spread his arms wide, looking around at his scattered audience, his silhouette casting a dark shadow against his silkscreen backdrop. The evening sun offered a warm atmosphere for such a story.
Zhongli was not the only regular who frequented these shows. There was typically an older woman who came to play her guqin in accompaniment to the stories, adding a riveting layer to the experience. How unfortunate she was not here today; she was most likely watching over her granddaughter. Just behind him, he could hear the soft clatter of porcelain pieces as two men played xiangqi. A couple of off-duty Millelith guards were lounging nearby, indulging in wine.
“Liyue then was a place of contention between countless gods. Foul demons roamed the land, and the people could find no words to describe their agony.”
Zhongli took a sip, the hot drink sending tendrils of warmth through his chest. He had heard the tea master recount this story several times before, and every time he retold the story, he added small details. While it never changed the story essentially, it was amusing how people will take creative license as they pleased. He took another sip, relishing in the calm overture of twilight as the sun sunk behind the horizon. The sea was dark, and the wind carried the cold saltwater to the Harbor. Autumn had come, turning the leaves gold and crimson.
Crimson…
Zhongli used to loathe the color. So much blood in the wake of his memories, painting his days and nights in heavy coats. But now, crimson reminded him of sweet wine and roses, of a hawk’s tail feathers and a set of familiar eyes brimming with purpose. He had learned to adore the color red, to let the retention of blood in his memories turn to rusted brown, to allow himself to grieve and forgive. That one year, he kept it in his special bank of memories only reserved for those who had taught him something. Not just about humanity, but those who had taught him how to be human. To laugh, cry, scream, hurt, and love.
Zhongli took another sip, only to drain the rest of the tea to its dregs. He furrowed his brows, a hesitant thought floating to the forefront of his mind. Now that Liyue was a godless city, would it be alright to leave? A part of him could not bear to part with the place he had built in honor of his dearest partner. Another part of him, possibly the more human part now that he’s spent time in a mortal body, was itching for a change of scenery. Zhongli was not opposed to change; he had ushered in a new era and adjusted accordingly. Liyue had proven itself, meeting and exceeding his expectations. No, there was something else holding him back, but at the same time pulling him forward. A type of guilt, one too complex to delve into, and he was slightly afraid of venturing too far.
A tiny meow stirred him from his reverie, and he glanced over to the calico sitting on the balcony railing. Its wide green eyes looked at him expectantly, but he reached over with a gloved hand, unfurling his long fingers to show an empty palm.
“Apologies, mao mao. No treats today.”
The cat meowed indignantly, shying away from his outstretched hand, and Zhongli let out a small laugh.
“Your attitude reminds me of someone….” He faltered then. The bright leaves below the terrace started to crowd his vision, and he remembered. Sweet whispers by the shell of his ear, a rich laugh like a gold rush, and unruly crimson hair slipping through his fingers.
He swallowed, retracting his hand and letting it rest in his lap. He watched the calico saunter off, and another image seemed to overlay his vision—a dark silhouette against the backdrop of rain.
The scatter of applause was muffled in the background, the only signifier to Zhongli that the tea master had finished his tale, and the scrape of chairs against wood meant people were leaving. But Zhongli stayed, looking out to the horizon line as the sea turned black and the stars had long awoken.
He thought of a lonely smile and glaze lilies and black dust.
Maybe a trip up north wasn’t a bad idea.
2 Years Prior
Morax rolled his shoulders, tightening his gloves as he walked out of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. The director, Hu Tao, was out on her recruitment missions once again. Which meant he had the day to himself once more. The toe of his boot caught the division in the cement, and he stumbled but caught himself quickly. He glanced around, straightening his jacket, but no one noticed. It had been a while since he had taken such a form, and although it’s already been a few months, he was still rather clumsy. He was still adjusting to the weight of a human body again, of a bipedal animal. The lack of horns and a tail and his new center of gravity posed a challenge. Well, he had considered this a sort of test run. He had missed Liyue Harbor, missed being among the people. But it hurt too much because everything reminded him of her.
Guizhong.
He doubted he would ever stop grieving. It had taken him time to stomach just looking at glaze lilies directly. Because a part of him still hears Guizhong’s sweet melody, somewhere caught in the breeze and the tall grass. He could still smell bamboo shoot soup and Oolong tea. He wondered if it was okay to partake in such indulgences now. But he stuck with green tea and whatever specials offered to him at the stalls. Albeit if they took pity on him for having no Mora.
While he received payments for his work from the Funeral Parlor, he was honestly quite careless with his currency. After paying off his rent, before he knew it, he had run out of Mora at the end of the week. Hu Tao had chastised him as if he were the child and she was the adult, that he shouldn’t purchase such expensive teas and trinkets. He didn’t quite understand that, for what else was the purpose of selling such items if not to be able to purchase them? But Hu Tao would just roll her eyes.
Morax had taken up the name Zhongli, a decision he made after a fateful encounter with a Fatui Harbinger. During his first month in Liyue, he was approached by a woman called Signora. The young Cryo Archon, who had named herself the Tsaritsa in her land, tracked him down. With a posse of Fatui agents, this woman offered a contract with the Geo Archon, asking to resign his Gnosis over to the Tsaritsa.
But what kind of terms would make the source of godhood negotiable?
It was simple, really: to save Liyue.
Morax was aware of the Cryo Archon’s personality and her resentment towards Celestia. But her plans, she kept wrapped to herself and tucked away in her tundra. But he could never forget the events that occurred 500 years ago—the incident made the gods doubt Celestia’s true intentions. And Morax was forced into a contract to never speak of the horrors that had ensued.
So in exchange for his godhood, Liyue would be able to survive without him. However, he inlaid the terms of the contract that he needed to prove that his people would be ready for such a transition, and if they met his expectations, he would hand over his Gnosis peacefully.
“The era of Archons is nearing its end, Morax. You know just as well,” Signora had said as she prepared to leave, her tea cold and untouched. “The Tsaritsa will await your call for the plan to move forward. I’ll return to uphold our part of the contract. Until then, take care and enjoy your city.”
That same day, he had strolled through the Harbor, his mind reeling until he overheard a merchant say to his assistant, “you’ve done your duty for today! Go rest!”
That random conversation he had picked out from the bustling crowd had struck a chord through him. He had been feeling it, as ancient as he was, like a moss-covered stone meant to turn over to reveal it’s clean slate on the other side. It was time for a new age, one that no longer needed him in power. But were they ready?
Now, Zhongli waited in line at the Zhongyuan cart, in the mood for chop suey. The plum blossoms were blooming beautifully, he noted overhead as the trees lining the road cast shade in the afternoon light. The shades of pale pinks and white sang with springtime and the promise of festivals.
“Huh? Speak up, sir! I have a line.”
Zhongli craned his neck a bit to see the front of the line. A hooded man was using his hands to mime and pointed at the menu.
“Oh, a foreigner! Welcome, welcome. Try our signature chop suey! Just 6,600 Mora, sir!”
Oh, how unfortunate. The poor man was given the tourist price. For locals of Liyue, it was only 1,600 Mora. The hooded man shook his head and pointed to another item on the menu, from the side dishes.
“Are you sure? Alright, coming right up! 530 Mora please.”
The line shifted as the hooded man paid and stepped off the side to wait alongside a few other customers. Zhongli squinted, watching the man. He had a specific gait and posture, not usually seen from tourists. At least, dressed in the way he was. Even his stance as he stood waiting was uncharacteristic of someone like a merchant. No, this was a man of noble class. So why come to Liyue in disguise?
Curiosity always got the best of him. As the line shuffled on, Zhongli kept an eye on the man, his gaze following the stranger as he collected his dish and headed for an empty table, away from most already seated. Once Zhongli ordered his chop suey, he counted his remaining expenses for the day. He would have enough for a spot of tea in the evening.
You barely eat, how are you going to keep your physique?
Guizhong’s voice fluttered out of nowhere. He shook his head as if that could clear his mind. He walked over to the stranger’s table and moved into his line of sight, offering a small smile. The man looked up, and Zhongli could see a shock of bright red hair underneath his hood. What was even more jarring were his scarlet eyes. He was also not a man but a boy.
“Sorry, not from here,” the boy started in broken Liyue.
Zhongli shook his head, smiling. “No need, I speak the common tongue of Teyvat. I couldn’t help but overhear from the cart that you are not from around here.”
The boy seemed to sigh in relief. “Yes, my apologies. I find the Liyue language difficult to learn.” Despite his youthful appearance, he had a much deeper voice. He also spoke in that lilting tone that was common among nobility.
“May I join you? Although I would not like to intrude if you intend to spend time alone.”
The boy looked at him thoughtfully before gesturing to the seat in front of him. Zhongli dipped his head in thanks and sat, now seeing the dish that the boy had bought.
“Pickled radishes? Is that enough for you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t eat much, but the food here is expensive.”
Zhongli stifled a laugh. “The people of Liyue Harbor see you as a tourist. They will treat you as such. You will have to learn how to haggle these people to drop the price range to something affordable.”
The boy nodded, glancing down at the chop suey. “I assumed I was possibly getting ripped off. How much did it cost you?”
“1,600 Mora.”
“Ah,” the boy’s red eyebrow twitched. “So I was getting ripped off.”
Zhongli broke apart his chopsticks and severed off a piece. “Would you like to try some? I do not mind sharing. And it is a popular dish here.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine. I will be leaving shortly soon anyway.” The boy broke apart his chopsticks and, quite clumsily, picked at his pickled radishes.
“You’re from Mondstadt, aren’t you?”
His hand froze. Those scarlet eyes shot up, locked onto Zhongli’s golden ones.
“What gave me away?”
Zhongli shrugged, carefully eating a piece of his food. “I’m quite observant and know things, so I’m not sure the typical resident here would notice. But I know a nobleman when I see one.”
The boy slowly leaned back in his chair, setting down his chopsticks. His hood slipped back slightly, and Zhongli could see he had pretty long crimson hair. “And you’re no ordinary man of Liyue Harbor, are you?” The way he stared so intensely, abrasive and controlled. It reminded him of his old self, of Morax during the Archon War.
Zhongli kept his gaze level. “I have no intentions outside of pure curiosity if I have offended you; my apologies. What would a man of your stature be doing in Liyue Harbor in disguise?”
The boy remained silent. It didn’t seem like he was going to get an answer. Zhongli nodded and took another bite of his food. “If it helps, you’ll have my word that I never saw you.”
His shoulders loosened a fraction of an inch.
“I’m Zhongli, by the way. I work as a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” He extended a gloved hand across the table.
The boy hesitated for a few moments, then took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Diluc. Of Mondstadt.”
Diluc. What a unique name.
“A pleasure to meet you, Diluc. I do hope you enjoy your stay here however long.”
“I’m just passing through.”
“Well,” Zhongli dropped his eyes to his food again, taking another bite. “That’s a shame.”
There was a beat of silence that followed.
“I was a knight of Favonius.”
Zhongli looked back up to those fierce eyes. “What made you run?”
Diluc’s grip tightened around his chopsticks, splintering the cheap wood. The anger that emitted from him was all too familiar. An emotion Zhongli had almost forgotten.
It was the anger of someone who has had something ripped away from them.
“Nevermind, that is your own business.” Zhongli paused for a breath. “I recently came back to Liyue Harbor a few months ago, after years of being away. You’re lucky you arrived in the springtime. I find it is a time of healing. So I hope that if you are on the run, that you may find some peace here.”
Diluc simply blinked, and the mature ire in his glare melted, and he looked like the young man he was. “Thank you, Mr. Zhongli.”
They sat in silence as they finished their meal, and Diluc stood to clear the trash, but Zhongli insisted he takes care of it. As they stood to say their farewell, Zhongli caught sight of something attached to Diluc’s belt.
He watched as Diluc of Mondstadt headed off down the road, the wind stirring up plum blossom petals, and they danced around his wake.
A sudden image overlaid Zhongli’s vision, of a woman in a pale daxiushan , plum blossom petals dancing around her dark hair, her giggle carried away with the winds.
His heart waned for a moment before he turned around and went to find green tea.