Chapter Text
If the city was riotous in celebration, you could not hear it. Ningguang had arranged for her personal carriage to ferry you to your destination, and it had been soundproofed by the finest anemo craftsmen. Though it’s purpose was more to protect state secrets than to block out the noises of people weeping in the streets, it served just as well to keep you mired in your thoughts as the carriage made it’s bumpy way across the cobblestone streets.
The aftermath of Osial’s attack had left the Qixing scrambling to hold the city together. The Fatui needed to be dealt with, the transition of power from Rex Lapis to the Qixing was in dire need of immediate attention, and most of all, the people of Liyue were, for the first time in their life, lost.
They had never been alone from the time Rex Lapis had led them south to the ocean. Liyue had always had their god to watch over them, but now they found themselves faltering at a test no one had predicted. Either the city would burn to ashes or find itself resurrected, stronger than ever.
At the moment, no one could tell. In a desperate attempt at preserving a shattered and shell-shocked Liyue against the enemies swarming for a chance to bring down the once invulnerable city, every capable body was pressed into service.
When Hu Tao opened the door for you, she nearly fainted in shock. As Lady Ningguang’s emissary, you came dressed in her colors - white and gold, which also happened to be the colors of funerals and weddings. For all intents and purposes, it looked like you had come to either kill or marry one of the inhabitants of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and all bets were on the bachelor who was currently the subject of all the burning rumors in Liyue.
“Zhongli,” she stammered. “What did you do ?”
Towering behind her, the man blinks slowly, completely unperturbed by the strange sight. It’s a small mercy that Wangsheng Funeral Parlor rarely has loiterers, or this could blow up into yet another scandalous whisper to follow his name.
“Nothing that I can recall,” he muses. “I don’t suppose the young lady is here for you? Perhaps this is one of your pranks?”
She scoffs, offended. “Even I wouldn’t go that far-“
All it takes is a singular, arched eyebrow from him, and she relents. “Okay, maybe I would, but this-“ she waves a hand in your direction. “Is not my doing! I know you can be kind of a ditz, but I can’t believe you got yourself married without realizing it!”
You smile demurely. “Don’t worry, Miss Hu Tao. It’s nothing so concerning. I’m just here on behalf of the Tianquan. Zhongli-xiansheng, would you do me the honor of coming to tea? I would like to discuss why the Qixing have called for your services.”
Though polite, both parties involved are aware that this is not an invitation. You’ve heard Hu Tao is a notorious prankster, and a bit of a plague on the elders of Liyue. Her particular form of advertisement has not endeared her to many, but somehow, she still finds joy even in the worst of tragedies. It’s a testament to the reputation of the Qixing that for her to lose ever present mirth. Worry lines her features for her dearest friend, but Zhongli soothes her worries. “Who am I to deny the kindness of the Liyue Qixing? Hu Tao, I’ll be back soon.”
It’s a short walk to Heyu Tea House. Zhongli shucks off his coat, and drapes it over you, careful never to actually graze your exposed skin in the process. Under your curious gaze, he explains. “You might attract strange looks walking through the city in your garb, though I understand why you came dressed in Ningguang’s colors.”
Only the lady herself could get away with such a social faux pas. White and gold were Ningguang’s colors before they were for weddings or funerals, but the same couldn’t hold true for you, one of the newer additions to the Liyue’s elite. You would have to work your way up to that kind of status.
The tea house is a favorite of the nobles of Liyue for it’s delicate architecture and beautiful performances, though currently, it’s been emptied out for your meeting. Even the waitresses have been replaced by your people. No effort is spared when it comes to wooing a god. Besides, the Qixing, of all people, could never be accused of holding out on a guest.
A seat on the second floor has been designated for you, overlooking the streets below.
Heyu has always felt comfortable to you. It was where you first met Ningguang. Eventually, it became the place that you began to associate with the Qixing, and your induction into their ranks.
Every member of the Qixing has a preferred place for negotiations, as such, this is yours. Though few of you are superstitious by nature, familiarity is always a comfort. Today, that normality is ripped away from you. Funeral white has joined the usual red and gold of the decorations, lucky colors.
The entire city is in mourning for the man sitting across from you and at the same time, grateful to be alive.
It’s strange, the fine line between love and misery. Without the enchanted walls of the carriage, the people are still loud enough to be heard even off ground level. If you touch the tables, your hands shake slightly with the force of the vibrations moving throughout the city. Fireworks explode overhead. The open air of the terrace makes them your only source of light besides golden lanterns glowing dimply. As the people weep, they rejoice in equal measure. Ningguang’s name and the mysterious traveler’s are carried on whispers throughout the city. The adepti, too, are rumored to have returned. It’s a miracle, and a tragedy.
The city has survived, but it’s god has not.
Or at least not that they know of.
Everything on the menu has been prepared for Zhongli, but he barely touches the Calla Lily Seafood Soup and Crystal Shrimp, preferring to nurse his oolong tea and Jade Parcels. You hadn’t expected the former Geo Archon to be a picky eater, much less to dislike seafood. After all, it’s the staple of the city he held dominion over, but few personal details were known about the god.
Ningguang, you think, would ease into the conversation, starting with formalities and pleasantries she didn’t really mean before getting to the point. You are not Ningguang. You are trying to be, but you don’t think masquerading as a different person would get you very far with him.
“Zhongli-xiansheng, what do you plan to do now that you no longer go by Rex Lapis? Will you sit and watch as your people live in fear, attempting a gradual return to normalcy?”
As expected, the God of Contracts is not offended by your inability to skirt around the matter, though he does raise an eyebrow at the way you phrase it. He waits before he speaks, letting the silence stretch on, your words marinating between the two of you. There is little noise besides the clink of his ceramic spoon. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’s purposely trying to make you uncomfortable, then you cast the thought aside. You don’t really want to know.
“You want to know if I’m a god that can abandon his people?”
You refuse to lower your eyes at the direct interpretation of your words. You meant what you had said, even if you definitely hadn’t meant it to come across as harshly as he had phrased it. Like everyone else in Liyue, you still loved your god. And you believed that he had not turned his back on you.
You have never been meek, but you have also never been in the presence of a god, much less one whose presence has loomed over you for your entire life. It’s only with Ganyu’s etiquette training that you refrain from picking at the golden threads embroidered into the table cloth under his similarly golden-eyed scrutiny. Everything in Liyue is Zhongli’s.
“I don’t think you are.”
“No,” he sighs. “You are right. I am not. You have a matter you need my assistance with, or else you would not have come to me. Speak directly.”
“The people are grieving. Their city is shattered and their god is lost to them. They are afraid. The Rite of Parting is not enough.” The tortured look on your face is not an act.
By the time the Qixing had taken you in, you had already dedicated your heart to this city. You would sacrifice anything for it, and once, you would have sacrificed anything for the god who presided over it. Now you wonder if there is anything to offer him at all. “I want my people to live in peace. Zhongli-xiansheng,” you slide a pen and paper across the table. “Please make a contract with me.”
The Qixing were stretched thin enough as it was already. The Tianquan had resorted to running Liyue’s base of operations out of the Yuehai Pavilion, now that the Jade Chamber had fallen. The Yuheng barely slept, carrying out her work at all hours of the night. Even Ganyu, your ever competent secretary, had found extra work to do. The Kaiyang, leader of Liyue’s military forces, had fallen during the night, though no one knew how. Some suspected a fatui assassination plot, though you were leery. Among the Qixing, it was common knowledge that he had been ill for some time.
Through it all, Liyue found itself trapped in a haze of grief and mourning, as if the malaise of Wuwang Hill had somehow spread to the golden city. Their pain was amplified by crushed hopes, the strength of a people who, holding out against all odds, could deny it no longer.
Even those who had witnessed the passing of the great dragon at the Rite of Ascension had believed that he would somehow make a triumphant return. After all, why else would the Qixing make such a suspicious attempt to hide the body?
But perhaps the greatest claim against the possibility that he was really gone was that this was Rex Lapis, their infallible god. His people loved him too much to consider the possibility that he was capable of succumbing to such mortal things as death. They had believed in him until they could no longer.
You had been inducted into the Qixing when your battle prowess had garnered you Ningguang’s attention. Promotions had come steadily due to your competency, until you had risen so high as to become Lady Ningguang’s secretary. Then, under her, you had become recognized as the foremost expert on the history and culture of Liyue.
You were a nightmare to face on the battlefield and a well of wisdom in the conference room, but though your talents were many, they did not extend to this, no matter how much you cared for your people. Conveniently, funeral parlor consultants were adept at handling grief.
It was an easy decision.
The Qixing would employ Zhongli as an envoy to the people, guiding them through the grief left behind by the death of a god. In return, you would teach him what it meant to be mortal.
“The people are too reliant on their god,” he says, shaking his head at your noise of protest, “but I would never wish harm on Liyue. It seems my work is still not finished. I must guide them into a new era, one in which I am no longer needed.”
“And then?”
“I will finally be able to retire, I suppose. Though I’m not sure when that will be.”
You’re not sure how gods retire. What Zhongli likely means is something more similar to death than human ideas of retirement. Centuries of existence have taken their toll on him, leaving him weary to the bone. More than anything, he wants rest, but he cannot when Liyue has need of him.
The end of the era of gods had shattered the city that had walked with gods. It was resistant to the possibility of a lonely journey. After all, it was the city that Rex Lapis had cultivated from nothing with his own hands, and perhaps spoiled, in his desire to provide for his people all that they needed.
He had admitted it to you himself, with a melancholic smile on his face. “The human life is so short compared to that of the adepti. I would like to see my people comfortable in the little time we have together.”
Even after renouncing his title as the Sovereign God of Liyue, he couldn’t help himself from looking after his people. Rex Lapis had ruled over Liyue for 6,000 years. He had seen more than you could imagine, in an immortal life that could snuff yours out in an instant. He was the oldest of the Seven who had grown tired of his long reign, and had relinquished his city to the Qixing, only to find himself called back into service.
Though he was basically living history, never in his life could he recall a tradition like this. After all, there was no recorded instance of a god descending to live among his people. It was an age of new beginnings, one that no one had expected.
New beginnings made people hungry. You could see it in the city, the restlessness that burned under their skin. Liyue had been invincible for so long, the people no longer knew what it was like to be weak. When Rex Lapis had founded the city, the people had been little more than dust, hastily cobbled together huts and prayers to a doting god. And now they had returned to that state, unsure of when disaster might strike. They were afraid, as you had never wanted your city to feel.
That was precisely what had driven Rex Lapis to take the form of Zhongli, and what had brought you to his doorstep as an ambassador from Tianquan Ningguang. An olive branch, of sorts, after the long centuries of strained relations between the adepti and the Qixing. A partnership for the common cause they both served, the good of Liyue. You didn’t mind - after all, between your sovereign and your god, you were more than willing to serve as they saw fit.
Even if your god insisted he was nothing more than a funeral parlor consultant now.
“Zhongli-xiansheng,” you started.
“You can call me Zhongli. We will be seeing each other often, and it’s unnecessary.”
You stumble, unused to his name in your mouth without honorifics, even if back then, you had called him Rex Lapis. “Zhongli, then. I will report your acquiescence back to the Qixing. If you are amenable to it, I will meet you at the funeral parlor to discuss our first assignment further.”
Normally, you would bring the completed contract to Yanfei to look over, but as the other party was the god of contracts, today you found yourself free to return directly to Yuehai Pavilion, to find Ganyu.
Ending the day with her had become a tradition ever since you joined the Qixing. You would forever be grateful for the way she took you under her wing. It was only around her that you felt comfortable letting your guard down, openly displaying the effect Rex Lapis had on you. Being in his presence (you had been praying to him since you were nothing more than a child) had left your mind spinning, and you only noticed when Ganyu pointed out: his coat is still draped over your shoulders.
“I know we sent you there dressed in gold,” she teased, “but I hardly expected you to actually find yourself wedded. You’ve risen quite above your station, haven’t you?”
Around her, it’s easy to drop the pretense of dignity, so you feel no shame when you gasp and clap your hand over your mouth. “I forgot to return his coat!”
“Are you sure you just forgot ?”
“What are you saying?” Ganyu is like an older sister to you - which means she also finds the greatest pleasure in poking fun at you.
“Oh, nothing. Just that you were awfully enamored with Rex Lapis as a little girl. I wonder if you really grew out of it? It wouldn’t surprise me if-“
“Enough! I’m going home.”
The sound of her bright, airy laughter follows you all the way back home. When you hang the coat up in the foyer, a light fragrance drifts down to your nose. It smells like him - like osmanthus flowers and sweet wine. You’re almost reluctant to let it go as you climb into your silk sheets.