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The relationship between The Uncrowned King of Dragons and the Tianquan of Liyue is one discussed eternally among the streets of the harbour. Many citizens make it known that they believe the pirate should have nothing to do with their Tianquan.
Perhaps it isn't as well known how much the topic of their gossips agrees.
She sits in shadows, nursing a now warm drink, listening to the chatter of the civilians. They discuss the messy way Beidou eats. The tragedy that seemed to follow her. They curse her name, she's obnoxious, loud. She is a stain on the perfect image of the Tianquan.
And after a few hours of silently observing, Beidou will drag herself to her feet. The bar will fall still as she crosses the floor, exiting without a word. No. Beidou will never deny these truths. She will never reject the fact.
Because Beidou is a messy eater, and she's clumsy, she leaves a trail of destruction where she leads. Flowers wilt under her touch and the edges of her heart are sharp and jagged, hardened by years of struggle she dare not speak of.
But Ningguang watches her with a look so tender that she fears she may break under it, and that look never wavers as she rests her hand in her palm, watching as Beidou speaks with her mouth full, hanging off every word, watching as she stumbles, tumbling over the little patch of glaze lillies Ningguang calls her own.
And when Beidou turns to apologize, finding herself horrified by her own fault, Ningguang takes her into her arms. She runs her fingers over her sharp edges, never trying to smooth them. Ningguang pricks herself on those edges as she learns them but never does she try to change them, and when Beidou asserts that she should not be allowed. She should not be allowed to be loved so gently and so tenderly. She, who ruins all she touches, burns to ashes all that she loves, should not be allowed to have a person so perfect as Ningguang. Ningguang smiles at her with such care that Beidou feels as though she may crumble under the weight.
Broad shoulders, strong and capable, struggle to hold against her, and every so often her knees will buckle under the pressure of Ningguang's affections, she will fall to her feet. "I don't deserve you." She will sob, hands grasping at the skirt of the woman who never watches her with anything less than adoration. And Ningguang will pick her up, she will dry her tears and she will carry the weight of both their love until Beidou is capable of carrying her share.
And eventually, though she does not mean to, Ningguang's love will erode those edges, until they are smooth curves, nothing like the clean surface of Ningguang, no, Beidou will never be as smooth, she will never achieve the perfection that she sees when she watches Ningguang eat, taking slow, small bites, never leaving a trace of her presence, when she watches her walk, so gracefully she worries often that she may not be real, as she watches her nurse her glaze lillies back to life.
It will take Beidou years to learn, to understand. That those edges perfectly slot into place in the cavern that'd been missing from Ningguang's heart. Ningguang will tell her how she herself left a trail of blood from the gaping hole in her chest where Beidou's heart found home, how she bloodied everything she touched, ruined every flower she tried to nurture. Until Beidou came to patch her up, how that shining surface that Beidou so admires is only possible because of her own jagged edges.
And the love that blooms there is the river that flows where sharp edges meet a bleeding cavern, that washes those edges until they are soft curves that can only fit together.
Beidou will say that Ningguang is doomed to fit with her, but Ningguang will say she is destined.