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i.
“THE STORIES SAY that the late Geo Archon was the most ruthless god to have ever walked Teyvat,” says a Liyuen scholar, ribs practically popping out of his skin in pride. Mid-bite of the classic Mora Meat, Venti halts, head not-so-subtly turning to the direction of what appears to be a discussion group: studious youths who had not much better to do than discuss legacies lost to time, ponder upon truths they have no concrete way of confirming. Not unless they know a surviving immortal from that time period, that is. Then again, he’s an immortal, and he can’t say he knows everything that happens in Teyvat, especially happenings in the domains of the other archons.
This does spark a curiosity in Venti, though: what do mortals think about the archons, other than just gods to mindlessly thank and worship and be proud of? Zhongli’s eyes have wandered ahead to the intricate crafts on the cart by the streets, but Venti’s feet take silent steps back, inching closer to the group. Not that he was in any way unnoticeable, though, not with his garish green outfit as opposed to the sunset hues that colored Liyue’s streets. Zhongli spots him easily (then again, he does happen to be tall as a flagpole) and raises an eyebrow in question. Venti’s attention is far along with the discussion group, though.
“It’s just the Liyue stories that say that,” a young woman, seemingly of Liyue descent, contributes. “You can hardly compare Rex Lapis with the Tsaritsa when it comes to ruthlessness. Have you seen the army she’s commanding?”
Another scholar wearing Fontainean attire nods. “She has a point. Was it not a Fatui Harbinger that riled up Osial from under Rex Lapis’ very own spears?”
“Speaking of Osial—that’s one nasty god,” a high-pitched man with glasses shudders. Venti mirrors him—he was lucky enough to not have to encounter such a vile creature (despite his own set of obstacles), but he’s seen enough from the war all those years ago. The blockhead who did strike Osial down grew such a massive aversion to sea creatures that it transferred to Venti himself as well.
“I think you’d have to be ruthless to pin down such a god,” a woman speaks quietly from the back. Venti recognizes her garment—one from his very own nation.
“No one would show much mercy to their enemy, though,” the Liyuen woman argues. “It’s easy to be strict with someone who’s out to harm your people—every god would have done more or less the same.” Venti finds himself nodding along, chewing his Mora Meat slowly.
A bulky guy perks up, “That reminds me of Natlan and their never-ending wars. How ruthless must their god be, for her to keep putting her people on the verge of war and loss?”
The Fontainean scholar scoffs. “That is hardly ruthless; just plain reckless.”
“She would have her reasons, just as Rex Lapis has his,” the Liyuen woman shrugs. “But neither are as cold as the Cryo Archon herself is.”
“But what other explanation do we have for Rex Lapis’ enduringly long providence for Liyue, as opposed to the other nations?” the scrawny Liyuen guy argues. “How do we explain the way he defeated all those other gods, those violent gods like Osial, to vie for control over Liyue, if not for his lack of mercy—his unwavering goal to bring his enemies down underground?” Truly, Venti’s seen for himself how ruthless Rex Lapis can be in the face of the opposition, using brute strength to bring everyone down to claim his throne.
It amuses him to hear none other than Zhongli chime in: “You speak of a god rumored to have ‘failed’ a divine trial.”
“Mr. Zhongli!” The quiet scholar exclaims, much to Venti’s surprise. He notices that while some of the Liyuen scholars recognize him, the others find themselves turning heads. “Pleasure to have you here.”
“You know this guy?” asks the bulky guy.
“He’s Wangsheng’s consultant, but don’t worry—he’s not quite the eccentric soul like Director Hu is. I consulted him for my research regarding the adepti arts a few months ago, and he’s been the greatest help! He’s the most intelligent and insightful man I’ve ever come across. I’m sure he can be of great contribution to this discussion as well.”
“If it is as you say… but sir, forgive me—are you not too rushed in believing the assumption that Rex Lapis did, indeed, fail a divine trial?” Venti has come to notice that the Liyuen woman was quite the natural skeptic.
Zhongli nodded. “It could have been, as you gleaned, a reason made-up by the Qixing to explain his unforeseeable death. But surely, whatever the truth had been, the fact in itself that Rex Lapis is dead must mean that there is some force stronger than him, for him to have eventually fallen to his demise?”
The scrawny guy argues, “If someone truly has it out for Rex Lapis’ life, I truly believe the Rex Lapis we know would not back down so easily. In an age of peace and prosperity, what amount of force could possibly bring down one who has dominated so many gods? So my hypothesis in regards to this is: possibly, he has agreed to lay down his own life, for whatever reason he saw fit.”
Venti almost chokes on his food. He casts a glance at Zhongli, who betrays no hint of surprise in his face, paying attention to the conversation as one with all the other scholars, simply trading opinions about the vast unknown.
“Perhaps it wasn’t even any outside force at all,” the scholar continues, unperturbed in his passionate reasoning. “Perhaps it was all his choice in the making. Whatever the reason, whether or not he’s weak enough to be dominated now, or that he let death overtake him, one thing is clear—Rex Lapis has changed over the course of the millenia. Perhaps it’s the childish devotion, the idolized notion of him that we all grew up with, but I’d still like to believe that this, too, in the end, was something under his control—not a tragedy brought upon him.”
Venti can’t help but start clapping. “Well said!” he cheers with food still in his mouth, ignoring the side-eyes from the well-behaved scholars. “Absolutely agree. What else other than time could be a big enough force to sway such an unmoving, rigid god?”
He sees Zhongli trying his best not to show his rawest disappointment upon his pathetic state, masking it with a polite chuckle. “Is that the common preconception of the Lord of Geo? That he, like his namesake, resembles a stone hard rock, unchanging, spare for the natural erosion that comes?”
“Mr. Zhongli, do you have a different opinion on this? You are, after all, quite the distinguished and learned gentleman,” says the Fontainean woman. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”
“Fool be it for me to ignore all the stories about Rex Lapis burying plenty of vicious gods under his spears and moving lands and mountains at his command,” Zhongli says, all the grace of a royal, even in the way he gestures with his hands, “but he does not do it as a display of power. Before all else, Rex Lapis was a god bound to his people. He’d done what he had to do; he is not cruel without reason, only to those who dare turn their backs against their oath. Hardly would he ever be so cruel to sacrifice his own people, or to not show mercy when it matters. Surely it should suggest that the Lord of Geo is not entirely ruthless as one would make it seem—after all, his heart belongs to the people, the love and care he has for those around him? Solid though may be his love for his people, but hardly is he immovable in the face of humanity.”
The group was silent for a hot minute. “You do make quite the compelling argument, sir,” the skeptical Liyuen woman admits with reverence, looking like she’s just found her new prey to hound with all her conspiracy theories. Venti is quite simply astounded that this walking fossil of a friend he has isn’t already outed as the very Rex Lapis who claimed death.
No one comes up with an argument to Zhongli’s fairly accurate statement about Rex Lapis, so he gives a polite smile. “This is, of course, merely a humble opinion from one of the Geo Archon’s followers himself,” apprises Zhongli, “but I’m sure experts such as yourselves have better say on this topic.”
“Oh, we’re not experts,” the scrawny guy waves his hands, chuckling. “We all have our own research, ranging from the most obscure of legends to every tangible science. But we do like to discuss our archon—more specifically, The Seven.”
“Lest one foolishly follow the decrees of an archon without knowing a thing about their histories and how they came about,” the Liyuen scholar mutters under her breath.
Zhongli chuckles. “In any case, my friend and I shall leave you to your discussions—we’ve quite some places to visit today.”
The two friends excuse themselves from the group as Venti finishes up his Mora Meat, throwing the wrapping in the nearest bin. “How much of it was really love and care, and how much, duty?” Venti muses aloud. “It does prove difficult for me to believe that the Lord of Geo had so much compassion for people, with the sour expression permanently etched across his face.” Zhongli scoffs, dropping all pretense of patience. “That’s the face,” Venti murmurs.
“You? You’re hardly ‘people’; you’re a sorry excuse for a god," Zhongli scoffs. "If not for the bond and trust I have in my people, would I really have given Liyue up so easily?”
“On the other hand, you are such a model god, it hurts. ‘Rex Lapis protects his people steadfast against the violent forces that threaten them’. ‘Rex Lapis watches over them as they grow and evolve, providing guidance consistently with the changing of times’. ‘Rex Lapis hands the nation over to the people, the rightful owner of the country, satisfied with the result of his lifelong efforts’.” Feigning a solemn, reverent expression, Venti shakes his head. “A classic, three-act epic, featuring violent gods, the likes of Osial, the faithful illuminated adepti, the malicious yet persistent Fatui. Surely this would make a good bestseller, a classic legend to be passed down generations of children.”
Zhongli’s lips quirk in amusement. “You’re the bard. Where’s my epic?”
“Maybe you should’ve thought to be nicer to the bard singing your tales if you want them sung, blockhead,” scowls Venti.
Zhongli flicks Venti’s forehead lightly, and for a moment, Venti wonders when Zhongli grew so gentle and restrained. “Since when were bards so picky about the stories they tell? You’re penniless, might as well milk this for what it's worth.”
Venti’s head shakes, yet a fond smile settles on his lips as he stares into Zhongli’s amber eyes, a reminder of what feels like home for a spurt of wind that blows neverending, lost in the rivers of time. “Spoken like a true businessman, indeed,” he sighs wistfully, catching a maple leaf that found itself between Zhongli’s bangs, “and ever so ruthless towards this poor little bard.”
ii.
"OKAY, OKAY, GOOD, you guys are all here. Xingqiu—Chongyun—”
“Oh, no, it’s her,” the glaringly Cryo boy mutters, displeased.
“—Xinyan, hey! It’s been a while! XIANGLING, COME!” The glaringly Pyro girl yells so loudly and so suddenly, Venti’s Minty Meat Roll nearly jumps out of his tiny mouth.
“I’M WORKING!” the young chef yells back from a nearby table.
“Ugh, you can join us later. I assume Yunjin’s performing today?”
“Back-to-back,” says Hydro Boy. “We’ve just come back from her second performance. She’s preparing for her third.”
“Thank Archons I haven’t missed that one,” the glaringly Pyro girl breathes out. “Gotta make this dinner quick. Anyway, guys, I’ve just come back from the stone forest—”
“At this time of the day?” The other Pyro girl perks up, her accent distinct from the standard Liyuen accent.
“You know, work,” the loud Pyro girl shrugs. “Anyway, I happened to pass by the Statue of the Seven, and it was one of those days, you know—”
“We really don’t,” Icy Boy mutters yet again.
“—so I felt like giving an offering to the statue, right, so I was looking at the Rex Lapis statue. So I was kind of wondering, why is his statue so… lewd?”
“It’s not lewd, Hu Tao, it’s just a bare chest,” the chef sighs, taking the empty seat next to Icy Boy and Fire Girl, who Venti now knows is Hu Tao.
“Now where have I heard that name before?” Venti muses quietly, taking a bite of his roll. “Hu… Wangsheng? The daughter of the director?”
Zhongli grimaces. “The current director.” It’s then Venti notices, Zhongli has been chewing much less and paying more attention to the loud group of friends sitting next to them.
“Current?” Venti’s eyebrows shoot skyward. “Well, isn’t she young for her job.”
“It was theorized that Rex Lapis’ ‘revealing’ outfit was, in fact, a result of being torn and shredded during his war exploits,” the proper Hydro Boy states, looking only about half as enthused as the young director was, “and less of a fashion choice. Personally, I don’t buy that theory.”
“You don’t?” Icy Boy asks, deep in wonder. “It sounds plausible to me.”
“I don’t, Chongyun. Does it look the least bit ripped to you?”
“Always so mean. Why bother mentioning it at all, then?”
The director snorts with absolutely no grace. “It was definitely trimmed the way it was, that is. It was most definitely a fashion statement. I say he’s just vain.” Venti likes this girl already.
“Only you would talk of our own archon like he’s your best friend,” the accented Pyro girl shakes her head. “Maybe Rex Lapis didn’t choose that image of himself to be made a statue. I mean, humans are the ones making statues, right? It might not even have a reference to the real Rex Lapis at all, and just a general vibe.”
The Hydro boy nodded. “After all, most deities from the olden days were donned in similar garb.”
“You don’t see the Anemo Archon’s abs being on full display,” Hu Tao argues.
“Because he knows modesty,” Venti coughs silently, eyeing Zhongli, who is only shaking his head.
Icy Boy hesitantly says, “I mean, he doesn’t look like he has… much to show.” Venti’s less in favor of this boy. Truly cold as ice. Zhongli, on the other hand, can’t hide his growing smirk. “Ass,” Venti mutters.
“I mean… the Geo Archon’s pretty lanky himself,” Hu Tao retorts, making a face.
“He’s lean, not lanky,” the chef corrects.
Venti shakes his head. “Still agreeing with the director on this one.”
“Really?” Zhongli has an eyebrow raised, and his tone holds a hint of a challenge. Venti hates the way it stirs a vortex inside of him, the rampant thoughts that rise to the forefront of his mind, from the endless implications of just a single word. So he does the mature thing: he averts his eyes from Zhongli’s amber ones, turning instead back to the conversation between the friends.
“The sculptor might have not done Rex Lapis justice, but he’s probably not lanky,” Hydro Boy was saying. “Gods could appear as any form—Rex Lapis himself descended as a dragon for the annual rite, and he was a known symbol of enormous strength for the people, especially during the days of war. It would make more sense for him to give himself a powerful disposition.”
“Yeah! No one would trust in a lanky god as easily as they would a buff god,” Pyro Girl’s agreement shines through her accent.
“So it would hold that he chose to wear such a revealing outfit as a display of strength,” the director argues. “Because he thinks it would make him look more foreboding.”
“Well, it’s worked,” Hydro Boy shrugs. “Even if Rex Lapis was vain, he was rightfully so. Have you seen those statues?”
“Are they seriously fawning over Rex Lapis’ mortal image?” Venti blinks, astounded. His voice was apparently louder than he intended, because now, five kids are looking at him, eyebrows raised in question. “Uh, hello, kids,” Venti waves sheepishly.
“You’re a kid,” Icy Boy points out.
Venti presses his lips into a thin line. “I’m… really not, but—”
“He is,” Zhongli cuts in. “And he’s sorry. Go ahead with your conversation, I’ll make sure he doesn’t eavesdrop—”
“As if you haven’t been eavesdropping?” Venti scoffs.
The blooms on Director Hu’s eyes seem to glow brighter upon noticing them. “Zhongli! Hey, you know what, Zhongli always has so much to say about everything. What do you think about the image of Rex Lapis as depicted by his statues?”
Zhongli lets out a resigned sigh, and Venti almost laughs at his pain. “Well, Miss Xinyan has a point—the statues are man-made, so we have no way of confirming whether this was, in fact, based on a real image of the god we know.”
“You’d know,” the director retorts. Zhongli merely raises a silent eyebrow, but questions her no further.
“Though, we know that Rex Lapis has walked among people—presumably in his mortal form as well, because it would probably be quite a terrifying experience to walk alongside an earth dragon,” Zhongli adds. “Assuming that the statue was, in fact, made out of the image of his real mortal form, I’d think that perhaps Rex Lapis simply preferred such outfits because he finds them comfortable.”
“Bullshit,” retorts Venti, giving him no second to spare. “I’m sure you’d paint Rex Lapis in such a modest light. How comfortable must he have been to be so exposed, bare body seen by the world!”
“Zhongli? I like your friend,” the director beams, eyes burning crimson and bright. “I’m Hu Tao, by the way.”
“I’m Venti, and I prefer you much more compared to this old buffoon,” Venti grins.
Hydro Boy is frowning. “I must say, my liege, you have quite the nerve to talk about our god so confidently. You don’t look like you’re from around here, either.”
“That’s right, friend,” Venti says, enthusiastic as ever. “I’m from Mondstadt, as you can probably tell from the classic green of Mond’s bards, but I can assure you I am just as acquainted with Liyue’s history as many of you are. Quite hard to miss the news when your neighboring nation’s wreaking havoc on foolish gods—there aren’t even walls between our lands, here, right? The wind finds its course even through the steepest of mountains and valleys, and carries news forth.”
The kids don’t know how to respond to that, naturally. Zhongli pinches his temples. “Please ignore this little one—he does have a terrible drinking habit.”
“But I don’t lie, friend.”
“Nor do I, if that is what you happen to be insinuating,” Zhongli glares. “Everything I state is, of course, just… conjecture. In the heat of war, sweat and blood dripping off one’s fingertips, what better refresher is there than the gust of air that sifts through damp hair and dries one’s body off the lethargy of battle? Perhaps Rex Lapis simply enjoyed the taste of the wind that blows atop Jueyun’s peaks.”
The young chef hummed, patting her bear sidekick—hold on, is that a tiny Marchosius? That cute lad! “But would our god wear something purely for a notion of comfort? He sounds like a god that does everything with a purpose.”
“You can view Mr. Zhongli’s reasoning in a practical manner,” Hydro Boy suggests, taking a sip of his iced tea. “Armor would serve well against damage, but when the war’s won and one seeks to rest and recharge, perhaps such an outfit would serve him that energy he needs. I agree that Rex Lapis wouldn’t actively be in pursuit of comfort, but in some cases, comfort has its own practicalities, wouldn’t you say?”
Icy Boy is nodding along to his every word, but honestly, he would probably agree with whatever Hydro Boy has to say, either because he makes it sound really well thought out, or because it’s Hydro Boy himself saying it. Venti’s not one to speak, but he finds the sight of it adorable.
“Here I thought Rex Lapis simply consumed rocks to recharge,” Venti mutters, sending Hu Tao into a loud fit of laughter.
“Gods, I love your humor.”
“Thank you,” Venti groans. “Seriously, I’ve been telling Mr. Beanstalk here that he’s the one with terrible taste in humor.”
“Your form of humor is making fun of our god,” Icy Boy says, bewildered. “I can hardly see how you consider that great taste.”
“Hey, hey! You misunderstand me,” Venti’s eyes widen. “I’m just saying—I mean, Rex Lapis is an earth dragon, right? Born at least six millennia ago, but who’s alive to count? He could be seven thousand for all we know. Point is—we don’t know what he could be consuming. Even though he can take on a mortal body, this Minty Meat Roll probably won’t suffice to energize the humongous body of an earth dragon, would it? Who’s to say he wouldn’t eat rocks? Last time I checked, rocks contain minerals. Like, I’m just saying, it’s totally possible—”
“I hate how he kind of has a point,” Pyro Girl says, but there’s nothing begrudging in her amusement.
Zhongli is less impressed. “Dragons don’t eat rocks, Venti. They eat meat. Like most consumers.”
Venti’s gasp is worthy of a stage actor. “Rex Lapis eats humans?”
“Not human meat, they eat—animal—meat—it’s useless debating with you,” Zhongli sighs in belated realization. To the group of friends, he bows slightly. “I apologize for this… disgraceful bard. This is the man I’m…” He cuts off his thought with a shake of his head, standing up and leaving the restaurant, head turned away presumably in shame. Venti lets out his laughter afterward, not without scrambling to finish his food so as to not lose Zhongli.
“Hey!” the chef wails. “You still need to pay for this!”
Venti pauses. “Shit, I have nothing on me.”
“Excuse me?”
Hu Tao is chuckling. “Don’t worry Xiangling, I’ll take the bill for them,” she generously offers, almost having Venti convinced that she’s secretly a deity herself. To him, she quietly adds, “Of course I’m taking it off his paycheck. But I do hope all things go well between you two.”
Venti coughs on the ade he’s rapidly drinking. “It’s—it’s not like that—I’m not his—”
Hu Tao pats Venti’s back quite powerfully. “I know, I know, you don’t have to explain,” she grins deviously. “If you happen to be in Liyue next time, feel free to barge inside the funeral parlor! It’d be nice to have a friend that won’t end up in a coffin anytime soon.”
Venti quite sees why the Icy Boy fears this girl now, but he enjoys the eccentricity nonetheless. “I’ll be sure to, and many thanks for paying for the food! Now where the hell did that blockhead run off to?!”
iii.
"YOU KNOW, IF we have anyone to thank for Liyue’s long lasting prosperity,” the researcher with the cute straw hat says as he chews through fish balls, “we should really be thanking Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust. It’s really thanks to her brain that Rex Lapis’ brawn was even able to carry out many of the plans that led Liyue’s people to safety, and eventually, victory during the Archon War.”
The woman with an identical straw hat nods, but finishes her fish balls before saying, “Admittedly, she does not get the recognition she deserves.” Venti sends a soft gust of wind their way as agreement.
The guy making a sour expression on his face as he furiously fans himself did not look any more pleased by their statement. “Are you claiming that Rex Lapis, on his own, is simply a war machine with no brains?”
Venti snorts. “Accurate.” Zhongli, who had his attention around the marsh in search of wild Glaze Lilies, paused to give him a dissatisfied look.
“We don’t even know if it was Rex Lapis who worked with the Goddess of Dust during the Archon War,” a woman with a very high nose bridge argues. “We know he fought in these plains, and we knew of Guizhong forming an assembly of her people here with her partner, but—”
“Oh, it definitely was,” Venti cuts in, melancholic features painting his face in deep reminiscence of the old days. “So, so many ballads have been made of their unfailing partnership, the budding romance that grew between them, and eventually, Guizhong’s tragic death…” Venti grazes his fingers on the petals of the Glaze Lily by his feet, watching it bloom just by his mere melodious voice. Even Zhongli can’t contain his surprise when he sees the flower react to him so naturally. But of course—Venti is the God of Song himself; one should hardly be surprised at all.
“So bold of a foreigner to speak of the Goddess of Dust’s name so casually,” the sour-faced guy sneered. So he has a sour personality, too. “Who are you that we should trust these… ballads you speak of?”
Venti is only happier for the chance to speak of himself. “Why, if not only the best travelling bard in all of Teyvat, and—well.” He’ll probably just sound like a lunatic to claim himself as Rex Lapis’ best friend. He wills out his lyre instead. “Some people underestimate ballads as being something purely of the arts, and mere accompaniments to people’s drinks. But ballads carry a longer history than memory holds—more truth than any mortal could ever imagine. And, oh, the songs I’ve heard—the songs I’ve sung—about Miss Guizhong’s passing and Rex Lapis’ grief for her are some that truly stir one’s deepest emotions. Even if you’ve never felt such love, you’re sure to be swayed just by hearing their story.” He begins to strum softly the melody of one of Liyue’s old tunes about the two lovers.
“Indeed, it’s true,” Straw Hat Woman’s eyes light up. “Storytellers, bards, writers—whenever they share a piece on what happened all those years ago, what happened to the Goddess of Dust, never have my eyes been dry of tears. To know that the Lord of Geo could have experienced such a romantic and tragic love… perhaps, has he been hardened by his loss?”
Venti is still strumming the instrumental on the lyre, and soon notices that Zhongli is staring at him. He raises his eyebrows.
Zhongli clears his throat. “While it is fact that ballads carry a piece of history—”
“Oh?” An amused smile plays on Venti’s lips, as he plays to a halt. “Does the distinguished Mr. Zhongli, consultant in regards to the oldest cultural fragments known to mankind, have something to say about the quality of ballads that have circulated around Liyue for the past few millennia?”
“—it is just as true that bards and storytellers have been mastering the ability of perusing hyperbole to enhance the appeal of common tales,” Zhongli stares right into Venti’s eyes. “I only state the facts, my dear.”
Venti’s heart almost stops right then and there. Zhongli had no business looking at him so intensely, straight into his core, only to insult him and call him dear in the same breath.
He’s infinitely grateful for Straw Hat Man bringing them back to the discussion, because he can feel his face heating up profusely. Zhongli does not need to know how much his actions have affected Venti. He’s going to make sure of that.
“Of course it is hard to say for sure,” Zhongli’s saying, “in regards to the true nature of Guizhong and Rex Lapis’ partnership—it was a story from two thousand years past, after all. It may be, as the bard says, that they were once lovers, or somewhere close to that.”
Venti wants to believe the tingles under his skin are reacting to his inner romantic’s habit of witnessing an adorable pair, but he knows better than that.
“But it’s also entirely possible that they were simply the best of friends, working together for their people. Maybe the bards—” Zhongli, once again, gives Venti a pointed look, “—just consider it of quality romance material; the Goddess of Dust’s intelligence and the God of Contracts’ strength do have a complimentary appeal that makes up a good pair.”
“That is, assuming Rex Lapis really was only meritorious in strength, and lacking in intelligence,” Nose-bridge Woman points out.
“Even if that assumption proves false, two intelligent gods falling for each other is definitely a romance I’d love to hear!” The bob-haired woman next to her squealed. Ah, romantics, Venti thinks with a pleased smile.
He shakes his head slowly. “This old man here just loves making assumptions about the notions of romance, as if he’s gone though plenty in his entire life,” Venti clicks his tongue. “Love can be found anywhere, between any type of people—we don’t just prefer romances between extremes and choose to ignore the rest. He’s just accustomed to extremes because that’s the type of love he’s ever felt, is it not?”
Venti is smirking at him, obviously throwing the bait, but Zhongli’s gaze wanders his own devious eyes. “I won’t say I disagree with that,” he simply says. Venti blinks. “Though I don’t believe Rex Lapis is that utterly foolish for his and Guizhong’s friendship—relationship, if you will—to be regarded as that of polar opposites, I do agree it is quite the touching one nonetheless.”
“Of course you’d say that,” Venti mumbles, but he’s not even sure why he’s sulking a little. Zhongli’s being annoying and confusing, that’s what.
Sour-faced Guy nods at Zhongli’s argument. “Even after the Goddess of Dust’s death, Rex Lapis has set Liyue on the right course for many, many, years, with his divine predictions and brilliant insights during whatever peril we’ve had to face. Meeting Guizhong may have something to do with it, but Rex Lapis could hardly be said as unintelligent.”
“There is, in fact, a bigger misconception regarding the Goddess of Dust and the God of Contracts than the nature of their relationship,” Zhongli notes. “Guizhong was, as we know, highly intelligent and wise—a brilliant tactician, a mechanic for many of the weapons used in the archon war, and also incredibly wise, having imparted such wisdom to the people back in the day. But while Guizhong held the front end against the tide of war, Rex Lapis would keep watch for the people at the rear end. He would seem as a dominating god to many now, but he is the God of Contracts, and the God of Commerce—he masters at the art of trade, which requires the delicate skill of dealing with people to obtain better goods, material or otherwise. Perhaps those are not the same kinds of intelligence we speak of when we refer to Guizhong, but Rex Lapis has his own wisdom—and it seems prudish to simply dismiss that in light of all of Guizhong’s brilliant accomplishments, and so it is the other way around. They were partners, indeed, and their acts should be recognized and appreciated as they are: the division of labor between two gods, to maximize their contributions and guidance for the people.”
“A terribly proud god too, he is,” Venti mutters only for him to hear.
Straw Hat Woman nearly drops her nth stick of fish balls, too stunned to speak.
“Sir, you are… quite the impartial analyst,” Nose-bridge Woman says in awe.
Zhongli chuckles. “Analyst? I am but one who follows Liyue’s history as closely as one possibly can, and tells things as I have learned.”
“This sounds more like a theory than a fact, though,” Straw Hat Man is still thinking to himself. “What known fact about the gods, would you say, supports this theory?”
Straw Hat Woman shakes her head. “I believe Mr. Zhongli—his logic speaks for itself. The reason that Rex Lapis is brilliant at making predictions for Liyue could be none other than his deep knowledge about the people and their needs, something one could only have by understanding the nature of people, and the nature of trade.”
“Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s a god and he’s supposed to be omniscient,” Sour-face Guy says sourly.
Nose-bridge Woman frowns. “By that logic too, then, does that not mean Rex Lapis would have to have an extensive knowledge about… everything? And if all gods are supposed to be omniscient, wouldn’t it have meant that all gods were equally as intelligent?”
“One can argue that having knowledge and knowing how to equip knowledge are two different things in terms of intelligence,” Straw Hat Man throws out, and when Venti realizes the conversation is about to steer towards the likes of philosophy debates that the Dendro Archon so cherishes, he backs away slowly, Zhongli in tow.
“Yeah, I don’t really wanna be part of that conversation,” Venti whispers. Zhongli chuckles softly, his low tone sending vibrations down his skin.
“So you were saying? That someone is a brainless war god?”
“Ehe. You know I don’t really mean that,” Venti rolls his eyes, nudging Zhongli with his elbow. “I guess it’s just been etched in my mind that Guizhong’s the mind to your muscle, the power couple, you know? But I never thought of you as brainless, not at all.” Venti rests under a tree, next to which wild Glaze Lilies gleam under the setting sun. “I’ve always thought of you as perfect, if anything. You have everything—brain, brawn, a beautiful body and the best personality for a god. I have… well,” Venti laughs despondently, “what does it matter what I have, anyway?”
Zhongli doesn’t take the seat in the empty space next to Venti. He doesn’t try to reassure him in any way, tell him all his best qualities worth staying for. A little smile and a little nod is all he gives. “It doesn’t,” he agrees, that simply.
Venti hums a tune, just long and effortful enough for the Glaze Lily to bloom to its fullest. That is all he can offer, ever: a background song for beautiful things to come to light. The laugh he chokes back tastes bitter in the roof of his mouth, and his gloom manifests in reckless winds, swaying the Lilies stronger than he ever intends to.
One flies off the ground, and Zhongli catches it easily between his fingers, lifting it under the moonlight. “After all, love blooms notwithstanding,” mutters Zhongli, gaze transfixed upon the unfurling petals.
iv.
"PAUSE!" YELLS A young girl, pointing straight at Zhongli, who has been talking about the shops on the street from above on the bridge where he and Venti stood on. “Listen, listen, I have an idea. I mean, it makes so much sense.”
“Yi Fang, you kind of, y’know, have to explain it to us for us to know what you’re trying to say,” says the guy next to him sarcastically, waving books in the air like quite the madman.
The girl called Yi Fang gives him a particularly nasty glare. “Well, I would’ve, if you hadn’t immediately interrupted me, Ma Dong. Anyway, look. You know how it’s said in the fairytale that Rex Lapis walks among Liyue with a great many faces, but they all have one thing in common—amber eyes? Look,” she turns back to Zhongli, who just blinks.
“Me? I am hardly the only one around with amber eyes,” Zhongli reasons. Venti almost snorts at the entire irony.
“No, no, but it makes total sense,” the Yi Fang girl shakes her head adamantly. “You know everything, and you literally give off Rex Lapis vibes. Like, I’ve gotta be right. You’ve got to be Rex Lapis.”
Zhongli puts on a flustered expression that only shows his incredibly terrible acting skills, if anything. “I am learned in things as my profession requires, but to say I know everything is—”
“Yeah, yeah, spoken like an omniscient god,” Venti cuts in. He leans towards Zhongli to whisper, “You’re terrible at this.”
“It is all the same,” Zhongli says to the teenagers. “Whenever we face loss, we tend to see them in everything we walk by. Other than the amber eyes, I can guarantee that there is little about myself that is comparable to the late Rex Lapis.”
Venti has to agree with that; so much has changed in Zhongli from the time he first got to know about the Morax that survived the Archon War. “For instance,” he adds, “he has not a single Mora in his pockets, and expects me to pay for the meal. We end up starving.”
“Well, Mr. Zhongli—I’d expected you to be—y’know, sort of… nevermind,” the Ma Dong guy shakes his head. Zhongli feigns ignorance. Venti almost laughs his feet off the ground.
“In any case,” Yi Fang cuts, grabbing a book from the counter, “like I’ve been saying: if there’s a chance that Rex Incognito is not completely fictitious, then there’s a good chance that Mr. Zhongli is—”
“Honestly, I believe it must be based on a real experience!” Another guy shouts, and Yi Fang looks all too irritated to be interrupted again.
Ma Dong shakes his head stubbornly. “You’re crazy to even be insinuating that Rex Lapis is still alive, after what we saw at the Rite of Descension.”
“But you see, it never made sense that Rex Lapis died in the first place,” the other guy argues. Venti heaves a sigh upon the resurgence of this discussion that just never seems to end. “Especially when you consider Rex Lapis’ actions as depicted in Rex Incognito, it’s completely possible that he pulled a trick of the kind and faked his own death—”
“Preposterous!” roars Ma Dong, causing even Zhongli to be taken aback. “Rex Lapis would never do such a thing, which is why there is no way this tale could be based on real life. You know what—we have Mr. Zhongli here. Mr. Zhongli, surely you know a thing or two about the infamous tale, Rex Incognito, that depicts events people believe are of Rex Lapis himself?”
“Indeed, I have,” Zhongli nods. “Though I would not claim myself as an enthusiastic literati—”
“See, see,” the other guy cuts in, “that’s where you, and many of our people, are mistaken. They assume that Rex Incognito is some sort of fairy tale, a legend, or even just a fan-made literature regarding Rex Lapis—”
“Because it was marketed as fiction, by the author themselves,” Ma Dong retorts.
“—when it is very clearly written as a real experience,” the guy goes on, ignoring Ma Dong.
Yi Fang cocks her head. “No one even knows the author of Rex Incognito.”
“Precisely! It is a sign that it could’ve been Rex Lapis himself who had written Rex Incognito, recounting his tales as he walked the grounds of Liyue with different faces.”
“That’s a wild assumption, Shang Jian” says Yi Fang, “even if I personally think there is some truth in the book.”
The guy, who Venti finally knows goes by Shang Jian, shakes his head. “It’s not so much of an assumption as it is a theory—a message sent by Rex Lapis himself, correcting us of the error in our ways.”
“A theory that only lies on the basis of the nameless author? Heh,” scoffs Ma Dong, “that’s a guess as good as having a roulette spun once. If you were to take the ideals of the tale into account, you’d come to a contradiction—the amber-eyed man spins made-up tales to justify the antiques’ worth, yet you claim that the tale was, in fact, real? If it had indeed been Rex Lapis to write the tale, it would’ve most probably been a piece of fiction.”
Venti hums. “What are the chances that it had been Rex Lapis to write the tale? I hardly see him as a deity who would ever be so…” he glances at Zhongli, who looks at him questioningly, “... poetic.”
“It would be nearly impossible for us to know that, of course, as we base our knowledge of Rex Lapis from stories as such,” Shang Jian shrugs. “But if you see it the other way: that this was, indeed, a fan-made fictional work, what reason would the author have to frame Rex Lapis, with the image we already have of him, as someone entirely different—a crafty man caring more about the tales that shrouded the antiques, instead of their true quality?”
“You read the book too literally, Shang Jian,” says Ma Dong. “It was simply the author’s creative representation—by using such a metaphor, they claim to say that Rex Lapis would have cared more about people’s stories compared to the very laws he made to set this country straight. I’m guessing they were a delinquent—someone who, if they’re still alive, would probably think Rex Lapis’ death was a necessary change to better the world.”
Yi Fang clicks her tongue. “That would be blasphemy, and if that wasn’t true, you’d be blaspheming the author. Perhaps it was simply an eyewitness’ recount of an unexplainable encounter. It could’ve been true that Rex Lapis wasn’t so much of a god as we’ve imagined, so the author had decided to put that on paper.”
“If that were true, the author wouldn’t have marketed it as fiction, would they?” Ma Dong argues.
“How did you come to the conclusion that this was truly just a piece of fiction, Mr. Zhongli?” asks Shang Jian.
Zhongli seems to ponder on it for a while, eyes drifting to the bookshelves. “Perhaps the more accurate stance I take on this is that it matters little whether this is true, or in fact simply fan-fiction. Like most fairy tales and legends—we don’t actually have a way of confirming their truth, which is why we call them legends. When we hear them, less do we think of them as truth, but often we take what the stories are trying to tell us. That is the impression the tale, Rex Incognito, gives me: that people are more than the laws they are bound to, and contracts, tools, rather than borders, more than whether it was, in fact, true. In that sense, then, the best way to respect the author, surely, must be to take the “moral” as it is, without questioning the authenticity of the story.”
Venti takes a whole moment to stare at Zhongli, ponytail swaying in the light afternoon breeze, looking so at peace in the city he once fought with blood and sweat to defend. “That’s interesting,” he mutters under his breath. “I thought you always liked your world crystal clear, no nonsense.”
Zhongli’s gaze flits to Venti’s teal eyes. “In time, I’d learned to appreciate the beauty of metaphors,” he tells him a little too tenderly, “of parables, proverbs, and paragraphs with implicit sentences.”
“As expected of Mr. Zhongli,” Ma Dong says, shaking his head in awe. “He always has some profound explanation for everything.”
Yi Fang clearly still has her reservations. “But Mr. Zhongli already approaches the tale in a literary stance. It’s important for us to distinguish this between nonfiction and fiction, because it makes a whole difference in the characterization of Rex Lapis. Rex Incognito poses an entirely contradictory characterization of Rex Lapis to the ones we already have of him—but if it is the truth, then we must take this into account, for our beliefs as well.” It never fails to astound Venti how seriously they take the worship of their deity, and this goes for the Mondstadters as well.
“The Rex Lapis as written in the tale Rex Incognito does not entirely contradict the Rex Lapis as told in the stories passed down by storytellers,” Zhongli reasons. “He has always been described as someone enforcing contracts and emphasizing its importance, of course, but it was never said that we are to live limited by law—the lore pointed out as much. Perhaps that was why the author was bold enough to take creative liberty into that aspect of his characterization, whether as an entirely fictional work, or a speculative nonfiction with the little evidence they had.” Zhongli takes a deep breath, and Venti just then realizes how much he’s been speaking, and how he’s able to speak so much without revealing the entire truth already. “I understand your pursuit of the truth, but unfortunately, I do not know whether this book is supposed to be fiction or otherwise.”
Zhongli and Venti bid their greetings to the teenagers, and head for the other end of the bridge, keeping cool under the shade of the roof in the summer heat. Venti’s knowing grin is just about as bright as the sun itself.
“The worn out sword that has parried countless attacks and lived is sure to be more worth than an untouched blade of the best steel,” Venti recites, though his voice comes out with a melody that his tone naturally carries. “I once used such wisdom to bullshit my way out of looking for a prized antique. I never thought the Lord of Geo, the god who can distinguish the most expensive jewel from a fine imitation with ease, would come to advocate the same sort of trickery to his people.”
Zhongli parts his lips into a smile, rolling his eyes—it surprises Venti, quite frankly, having been used to seeing Zhongli always tight-lipped, never so carefree around him. It’s a change quite too pleasant to him; a change unexpectedly setting flutters behind Venti’s rib cage, a phenomenon he doesn’t really want to explain. “What gave it away?” Zhongli asks.
“I mean, they were talking about it, and the more I think about it, the more it sounded like something you’d do,” Venti shrugs, “the you today, I mean. Like, you always go around correcting people when they interpret something about Rex Lapis in a different way to what you intended—not much of a surprise you’d correct people about their views on your laws, too. I just didn’t expect that you’d do it in quite the poetic manner.”
Zhongli chuckles, and raises a fine eyebrow neatly. “Arguably, it’s your fault.”
“Excuse me? My fault?” Venti scoffs. “How is this my fault?”
“You’re terribly excellent when it comes to bullshitting and making them sound meaningful. I’ve learned more from your bullshit than I have from anything in my six millennia of life,” Zhongli says casually.
Venti, though, is stupefied on his feet. “Are you… are you complimenting me for once?”
“Pretty sure I made it clear that I was blaming you for the corruption of my behavior. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“No, no, big guy, this is your own metaphor of expressing your gratitude for my brilliant teachings!” Venti grins so widely, he sees Zhongli’s composure crack upon the sight of it, immediately breaking into a laughter. “See! I know you’ve been listening to my bullshit all along. I've taught you well, indeed. Hey—is it true that you always appear as someone with amber eyes when you walk among the mortals?”
Zhongli’s face morphs into that of interest. “What does it matter?”
“Well, it’s—” Venti thinks of all the time he roams Liyue Harbor alone when he finds it a tad bit too quiet up in Celestia, or even occasionally, in the streets of his very own home, Mondstadt’s City, for a bottle to warm him up. He’d see different people—a mischievous teenage boy, a fashionable business woman, a tired worker, a prim and proper nobleman, a fellow drunkard—all with eyes reflecting Cor Lapis, all glowing with the Geo aura, all radiating a certain scent so archaic and familiar, but was always a little too out of reach—how they always made him think of him, the one he’s always missing. Venti shakes his head. “Just tell me!”
Zhongli seems to contemplate it. He ends up just turning his back on Venti. “Figure that out for yourself, bard.”
“HEY!” Venti hears Zhongli’s small chuckle as he walks away, and has half the urge to suffocate him then and there.
v.
"COME 'ROUND NOW, people, and let me share with you a mystery that has long withstood the changing of times,” the storyteller in Third-Round Knockout calls to the remaining customers, in the late of the night. “Legend has it that the neighboring nations’ deities, namely the Lord of Anemo and the Lord of Geo, have not always been on the best terms.”
“Now that’s definitely true,” Venti mutters as he munches on his apple dessert. He leans over to the next table. “I’m from Mond, and let me tell you, there are areas with cliffs and rocks that make it so hard for the wind to pass. Definitely the work of an enraged Lord of Geo.”
“You surely are always first to blaspheme,” Zhongli shakes his head.
“It is literally my calling.”
“Does it not prove quite the anomaly?” the storyteller was saying. “The wind currents all over Minlin, the steepness of the Stormbearer Mountains and Starsnatch Cliff. The God of Freedom and the God of Contracts—they must be each others’ antithesis. That Liyue and Mondstadt could coexist with such harmony today is truly a question that begs to be solved.”
“Perhaps it is due to the Anemo Archon’s late disappearance,” a listener chimed in.
“Still, the gods must have had some agreement for the nations to have such a mutually beneficial partnership today, especially when you see it in terms of the trade industry,” argues her partner. “We have never gone into war with Mondstadt either, so the gods’ relationship must have been civil for the most part.”
The guy from the next table nods in agreement. “They were two of the oldest archons and part of the original seven, after all—they had probably been friends. Besides, who says opposite personalities can’t be friends? see—Mr. Zhongli's friend here has an Anemo vision.”
“Visions hardly represent personality,” Venti corrects. “The Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius is literally the opposite of myself, and more like this blockhead over here. Except she’s much nicer, of course.” Zhongli doesn’t even bother giving him a glare anymore, just sipping his glass of wine.
“But that proves that opposite personalities can be friends, does it not?” says the guy from the next table.
“You forget, though—you speak of gods: immortal, unchanging beings,” the storyteller reminds with such a dramatic voice, Venti finds himself feeling the urge to match him in dramatism. He stops himself; he is simply here to eat, after all, not perform. The storyteller goes on: “Imagine the God of Freedom, encountering a god who dictates so many rules and laws that one has to live by. Put them in a room together, and one of them—if not both, really—would probably explode within a few minutes.”
Zhongli purses his lips in a thin line. “That’s… a common misconception, really.”
“I don’t think we’re allowed to reveal that, even under the guise of an extreme intellectual,” Venti whispers harshly.
Zhongli simply ignores him. “Even gods with opposite personalities can learn to get along without compromising their personality.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” the woman says, “how did the two of you become best friends?”
Venti blinks, and finds that Zhongli is just as surprised by the unexpected question. Zhongli is quicker to recover, though. “Oh, we’re hardly friends—”
“Of course he says that,” Venti scoffs. “So he’ll claim we’re enemies, but really, he’s just always hated me. I kept on annoying him, just enough for him to stop yelling and throwing rocks at me. After… a long time, he finally started using his ears to listen to my songs, and finds that maybe I'm not all that bad when I'm not purposely annoying him. So now we have dinner and drinks once in a while, listening to storytellers in Liyue.”
The woman’s partner blinks repeatedly. “Mr. Zhongli doesn’t look like someone who’d throw rocks at people…”
Venti shuts his eyes in faux-sympathy. “We all have dark histories,” he whispers dramatically. “He wasn’t as dignified as he’s come to be, really.”
“And you still haven’t gone over your terrible phase,” Zhongli mumbles to the rim of his glass.
“See! He keeps bullying me. What kind of gentleman?”
“He’s only teasing you because you guys are close friends, surely,” says Next Table Guy.
Woman Partner laughs, waving her hand. “Don’t be so naïve. Obviously he’s teasing you because he likes you.”
Venti pauses, before bursting into a loud guffaw. “Zhongli? Liking me? Please,” he snorts. “I’d have a better chance of surviving a night in Dragonspine without fire than having Zhongli like me. This man’s about as stone-hearted as Rex Lapis’ statues themselves.”
When Zhongli doesn’t say anything, Venti turns to look at him. Zhongli is merely sipping his wine.
“Mr. Zhongli?” asks Man Partner, smirking. “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?”
“Oh, forgive me,” Zhongli blinks, “I was lost in thought about the Anemo and Geo Archons’ histories.”
The storyteller clapped his hands, eyes lighting up. “Right! Mr. Zhongli, you know way more than the average person does; you must know a thing or two that the famous legends don’t say.”
“As we know, the Anemo and Geo archons haven’t changed since the Archon War two millennia ago. There have been stories about the first iteration of The Seven dining together on occasion, so perhaps it could be assumed that they had a relationship that leaned closer to harmony.”
“Could they all have really been so harmonious?” Man Partner ponders. “They were seven very different archons, after all.”
“It would’ve been the end of the war—and they, each reigning over their own nation, would’ve wanted nothing more than peace and quiet by that time, I'd assume,” Zhongli reasons. “It explains a lack of conflict, anyway. There was really not a reason for the nations’ archons to actually interact with each other in a political manner, and from a friend perspective—as we’ve earlier discussed—even the most different personalities can be together and not argue when there is no longer a conflict in their needs, like one during a war.”
“There was once a rumor regarding the Geo Archon supposedly signing a treaty with the aristocrats of Mondstadt,” tips the storyteller, and Venti freezes ever so slightly.
“It’s been proven a spurious craft,” Zhongli says with a frown, glancing towards Venti with lasers in his eyes, “perhaps by certain… beings hiding in the shadows of Mondstadt.”
Venti gulps, but feigns his usual blasé glee. “Are you speculating that this was the deed of the Anemo Archon?” Which it definitely was, but they haven’t talked about that incident since then, since Venti never told him who did it. Is today the day Zhongli will finally whoop Venti’s ass for that mishap? Celestia willing, Zhongli’s anger would have long receded, and he’ll just give Venti a short scolding and call it a day.
Zhongli still has the nerve to shrug. “We are speculating that the archons were on bad terms, so this might prove as evidence. Of course, there’s no telling exactly…”
“If Rex Lapis knew Barbatos ever did such a thing, surely he wouldn’t sit quiet?” states Woman Partner.
“That’s true!” exclaims Venti. “The Geo Archon is hardly a gentle and patient god.”
“Maybe he hadn’t known,” Zhongli argues. “He is, after all… a busy god, unlike a certain someone I know.”
Venti glares at him, before huffing. “It’s not possible! The Geo Archon is powerful not only in strength but in the numbers of his supporters—he’d easily know who forged his insignia by having others investigate for him, and he’d surely bring judgment upon them by one way or another. That the Anemo Archon is still alive would mean that the Geo Archon did not kill the Anemo Archon.” But why? Venti wonders. If Zhongli should have known all along that Venti was the one who had pulled that trick, why has he never confronted him about it?
“Maybe because he was always absent,” Zhongli says pointedly, raising an eyebrow at Venti.
“But the Geo Archon would know where to find him, surely? If the songs and poems speak the truth, the Geo and Anemo Archons, neighboring deities, knew each other quite well—whether or not they got along.” Where else would he be, anyway, if not Celestia? If not disguised as a tiny bard, wandering the streets for some apples and a bottle of wine? How hard could it be to find him, when all he’s ever wanted is to be found, to be held, to be accompanied by someone who remembers him, when everybody else has gone? For Zhongli, of all people, who knows him best of all—how hard could it be?
Zhongli averts his eyes from Venti. “Maybe he turned a blind eye.”
“The Geo Archon would not have any reason to—” Venti blinks. “What?”
“It’s totally possible that the two archons planned the entire fake treaty,” Guy Next Table says, but Venti can barely pay attention. It makes sense that Zhongli knew all along, and yet—he chose to ignore it? Even when Venti did it without his permission? Even when it could have compromised their very friendship? “...which would mean they were never on bad terms,” Woman Partner was saying. “Or, at least, not in a way that was destructive.”
“Not in a way that was serious,” Zhongli agrees. “Perhaps the two deities did not get along initially. But perhaps even violent gods can find compromise with each other. It only makes sense, after all—where the rocks pile tall, the wind blows afar; where valleys sink deep, the air runs scarce. For earth and sky to coexist—it has always been how the world works, what was meant to be.”
Even the listeners found themselves stunned by Zhongli’s words. “Ay, perhaps we should leave the two to talk,” whispers Man Partner. “He is so obviously confessing right now.”
Way to make it a billion times more awkward. Venti’s cheeks heat up more than it already has.
The others get up just as the shops begin to close, the lights beginning to fade out. When the storyteller takes his leave, Venti looks at Zhongli, for once not really in a mood to snark. “Oi. You purposely turned a blind eye to that entire thing?”
Zhongli looks at him with his own confusion. “Have you never wondered how I never confronted you about it?”
“I mean, I did, it’s just—” Venti groans, taking a swig of wine straight from the bottle. “I just thought—I don’t know, that it wasn’t important enough? Or that you had it dealt with in some other way? I just always waited for you to eventually bring it up and get mad at me for it, I don’t know!”
Zhongli sighs. “I knew you did it for your people, and that was enough by me.”
“An act that rash never would’ve passed if I did that, like, two thousand years ago.”
“It… probably wouldn’t.”
“So why?”
Zhongli’s slender fingers wrap around his glass of wine, and Venti can see him contemplate whether or not to down it. “Perhaps I’ve gone soft.”
“I’m being serious right now,” Venti glares at him.
“So am I, Barbatos.” Zhongli takes the wine straight, taking a few moments to look Venti in the eye. “I think I’ve made it pretty obvious how I feel about you, but just so I can say it—”
“Don’t say it,” Venti whimpers, and Zhongli freezes. “I mean—um—look—you see—I’m—fuck—”
“Breathe,” Zhongli suggests, and Venti takes a deep breath.
“So I get what you’re trying to say but if you say it right now I would probably burst into a cyclone on the spot,” Venti raps in one exhale. “Also, we’re both kind of tipsy and I kind of want to be sober and prepared for a serious confession.”
Zhongli looks at Venti for a hot minute, before bursting into a heart-stopping grin. “Thank Barbatos—I seriously thought you were going to break my heart for a minute.”
“And I thought you didn’t have a heart, but guess we learn something new everyday,” Venti smirks, taking another sip off the bottle. “Sorry, sorry. I know I should be serious. I’m just very not used to you being… ‘soft’ with me.”
“I’ve noticed,” Zhongli smiles, brushing the stray locks that fall over Venti’s eye. This’ll probably take some time getting used to, Venti thinks. “Perhaps I’ve been a little too hard on you. What say you we go around Mondstadt to listen to bards and drink some Dandelion Wine for a change?”
Venti almost flies himself into Zhongli’s arms then and there, but he holds himself back, staring fondly into Zhongli’s amber eyes that trap the millennia of memories they share. All will come in due time. “If you think I can be bought with wine and song, then you’re absolutely correct,” Venti grins. “Your self-proclaimed intelligence is finally showing. Now we’re talking!”