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Keqing’s fingers drummed rhythmically against the polished surface of her desk, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness of her office. The city outside buzzed with life—merchants hawking their wares, children laughing as they darted through the streets—but within these walls, time seemed to stand still. A mountain of paperwork loomed before her, each document demanding her attention, her signature, her everything. She sighed, leaning back in her chair and letting her eyes drift to the window. The golden hues of the night painted the sky, but she couldn’t bring herself to appreciate it.
When was the last time I left this office before midnight? she wondered, rubbing her temples. Her mind thought about a certain blonde in white, the one person who could pull her out of this relentless cycle. But Lumine was far away, somewhere beyond Liyue’s borders, and the thought only deepened the ache in her chest.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Lady Keqing,” came a hesitant voice. “You have a visitor.”
She sat up straighter, smoothing her hair and straightening her uniform. “Send them in,” she said, her tone as composed as ever.
The door creaked open, and there, framed in the doorway, stood Lumine. Her golden hair caught the fading sunlight, and her eyes sparkled with a warmth that made Keqing’s pulse quicken. She hadn’t seen the Traveler in weeks, not since they’d parted ways after resolving a particularly troublesome matter in Mondstadt.
“Lumine,” Keqing said, her voice betraying a hint of surprise. “What brings you here?”
Lumine stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. “I heard you’ve been… overworking yourself again,” she said, her tone teasing yet gentle. “Thought I’d drop by and make sure you’re still alive.”
Keqing raised an eyebrow, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m fine. Just busy, as usual.”
“Busy burying yourself in paperwork, you mean,” Lumine retorted, striding forward and plopping down into the chair across from Keqing’s desk. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her gaze unwavering. “You know, even the Qixing need a break now and then.”
Keqing glanced at the stacks of documents on her desk, then back at Lumine. “There’s too much to do,” she said simply. “Liuyue doesn’t run itself.”
“Neither do you,” Lumine shot back, her voice softening. “You’re allowed to take care of yourself, Keqing. You’re not invincible.”
There was something in Lumine’s tone—a quiet intensity—that made Keqing’s breath catch. She looked away, focusing on a spot on the wall just beyond Lumine’s shoulder. “I know that,” she murmured, though her heart wasn’t entirely in the words.
Lumine stood suddenly, circling around the desk until she was standing beside Keqing. “Prove it,” she said, holding out a hand. “Come with me. Just for a little while.”
Keqing hesitated, her eyes darting between Lumine’s outstretched hand and the endless pile of work in front of her. “Where would we even go?” she asked, though her voice lacked its usual firmness.
Lumine grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Somewhere far away from all of this,” she said, gesturing at the desk. “Trust me.”
Keqing’s heart raced as she stared at Lumine’s hand. The rational part of her screamed to stay, to finish her work, to be the responsible leader Liyue needed. But another part—a part she rarely allowed to surface—whispered that maybe, just maybe, she deserved this.
Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and took Lumine’s hand. The touch sent a jolt of warmth through her, and she stood, her movements almost hesitant. “Just for a little while,” she repeated, as if trying to convince herself.
Lumine’s grin widened, and she gave Keqing’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s the spirit.”
As they stepped out of the office, Keqing felt a strange mix of trepidation and exhilaration. The cool evening air brushed against her skin, and the city lights twinkled like distant stars. Lumine led her through the winding streets, their fingers still intertwined.
“Where are we going?” Keqing asked eventually, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Lumine glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You’ll see,” she said cryptically. “It’s a surprise.”
Keqing wanted to press further—she hated surprises—but something in Lumine’s expression stopped her. Instead, she followed in silence, allowing herself to be led.
They reached a secluded spot on the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, where a small boat bobbed gently in the water. Lumine gestured toward it with a flourish. “After you,” she said with a mock bow.
Keqing hesitated, eyeing the boat warily. “You want me to get on that?”
“Scared?” Lumine teased.
“No,” Keqing replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. “I just… don’t see the point.”
“The point,” Lumine said as she climbed onto the boat and held out a hand, “is to relax. And maybe enjoy yourself for once.”
Keqing sighed but took Lumine’s hand once more, stepping onto the boat with practiced grace. The moment they were both aboard, Lumine untied the ropes and pushed off from the dock with surprising ease. The boat drifted slowly away from the shore, carried by the gentle current.
As the city lights faded into the distance, Keqing found herself struck by the tranquility of the moment. The water glimmered under the moonlight, and the soft sounds of the night enveloped them. She turned to Lumine, who was watching her with an expression Keqing couldn’t quite place.
“Why all this?” Keqing asked quietly.
Lumine shrugged, looking out over the water. “Because you deserve it,” she said simply. “You always give so much of yourself to everyone else. I wanted to give something back.”
Keqing opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. Instead, she looked away, her cheeks warming despite the cool night air.
The boat rocked gently on the water, a soft rhythm that mirrored the quiet pulse of the night. Keqing leaned back against the edge of the vessel, her shoulders finally relaxing as she let the weight of her responsibilities drift away with the tide. Her eyes wandered upward, tracing the constellations scattered across the velvety sky. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d taken a moment like this—no meetings, no paperwork, no endless lists of tasks. Just her, the stars, and Lumine.
Lumine sat across from her, arms resting on her knees, her golden hair catching the faint glimmer of the moon. She watched Keqing with a soft intensity, as if she were committing every detail of this moment to memory. “You look…” Lumine began, her voice trailing off as though searching for the right word. “Free, I suppose.”
Keqing glanced at her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Free,” she repeated, letting the word hang in the air between them. It felt foreign yet familiar, like a long-forgotten melody. “I haven’t felt that way in a while.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Lumine said simply, her tone warm but firm. “You need this, Keqing. More than you realize.”
Keqing sighed, turning her gaze back to the sky. The stars seemed closer out here, brighter, as if they were reaching down to meet her. She felt a strange ache in her chest, something she couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t sadness or longing—it was more like… awakening. A part of her she’d buried beneath duty and expectations was stirring, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face it.
“Do you ever feel like you’re chasing something you can’t quite catch?” Keqing asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure why she said it—perhaps it was the intimacy of the moment, or the way Lumine’s presence made her feel safe enough to let her guard down.
Lumine’s expression softened, her eyes reflecting the starlight. “All the time,” she admitted. “It’s why I keep moving. Why I keep searching.” She paused, her gaze shifting to the horizon. “But sometimes, I think maybe it’s not about catching something. Maybe it’s about finding people who make the journey worthwhile.”
Keqing studied her, the moonlight casting shadows across Lumine’s face. There was a depth to her words that resonated in Keqing’s chest, a truth she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge until now. “People like…?” she prompted, her voice trailing off as she dared to hope.
Lumine met her gaze, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “People like you,” she said softly. The words hung between them, charged with unspoken meaning.
Keqing felt her breath catch, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. She looked away, suddenly aware of how close Lumine was, how the space between them seemed to shrink with each passing second. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice trembling just slightly.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Lumine replied, her tone gentle but firm. “Just… let yourself be here. With me.”
Keqing nodded, her thoughts swirling like the waves around them. She wanted to—oh, how she wanted to—but years of discipline and restraint had built walls around her heart that weren’t easily torn down. And yet, with each passing moment, those walls felt less solid, less necessary.
The boat drifted lazily on the water, the soft creak of wood and the gentle lapping of waves creating a soothing symphony. Lumine reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Keqing’s hand where it rested on the edge of the boat. The touch was fleeting, almost accidental, but it sent a shiver up Keqing’s spine.
“Your hands are cold,” Lumine murmured, her voice low and warm. She shifted closer, her presence radiating heat that Keqing could feel even through the cool night air.
“It’s the breeze,” Keqing replied, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to sound composed. She felt a flush creeping up her neck, a telltale sign that Lumine was getting under her skin in ways she wasn’t ready to admit.
Lumine chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant warmth through Keqing’s chest. “Here,” she said, reaching for Keqing’s hand again and holding it gently between both of hers. “Better?”
Keqing’s breath hitched at the contact. Lumine’s hands were surprisingly warm, the calloused roughness of her palms a stark contrast to the softness of her touch. She wanted to pull away—should pull away—but instead, she found herself leaning into it, savoring the connection.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the night. She looked down at their joined hands, her heart racing as she noticed how perfectly they fit together.
Lumine squeezed her hand lightly, her thumb brushing over Keqing’s knuckles in a motion that felt far too intimate for such a simple gesture. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said softly. “Not for this.”
Keqing swallowed hard, her mind racing with thoughts she wasn’t ready to confront. She wanted to ask why Lumine was doing this—why she cared so much—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she focused on the warmth of Lumine’s hands, the way it spread through her body and settled in her chest.
The silence between them was comfortable yet charged, as if they were both waiting for something but neither was willing to make the first move. Keqing’s eyes flickered up to Lumine’s face, meeting those bright, knowing eyes that seemed to see straight through her.
“You’re thinking too much,” Lumine said with a smirk, her voice breaking the quiet.
Keqing blinked, caught off guard. “How can you tell?” she asked, her tone half-accusatory, half-embarrassed.
Lumine laughed softly, the sound sending a jolt of warmth through Keqing’s chest. “Because I know you,” she said simply. “You always have that look when you’re overanalyzing something.”
Keqing wanted to protest, but she couldn’t deny the truth in Lumine’s words. She was overthinking—about this moment, about Lumine, about everything. But as she looked into Lumine’s eyes, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. Maybe she didn’t have to figure it all out right now. Maybe she could just… be.
“You’re right,” Keqing admitted quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I just… I don’t know how to stop.”
“Then let me help you,” Lumine said, her voice soft but firm. She released Keqing’s hand and shifted even closer, their shoulders brushing as she leaned back against the edge of the boat. “Close your eyes.”
Keqing hesitated for a moment before obliging, letting her eyelids flutter shut. The world around her seemed to fade away—the sound of the waves, the cool night air, even the gentle rocking of the boat. All that remained was Lumine’s presence beside her, warm and steady.
“Focus on your breathing,” Lumine instructed, her voice low and soothing. “Inhale… and exhale…”
Keqing followed her lead, taking slow, deliberate breaths as Lumine guided her. With each inhale, she felt a little more of her tension melt away; with each exhale, a little more of her guard came down.
“Good,” Lumine murmured after a few moments. “Now tell me one thing—just one—that you want right now.”
Keqing’s heart skipped a beat at the question. There were so many things she could say—things she wanted to say—but they all felt too big, too vulnerable. So instead, she went with something simple, something honest.
“I want… to stay like this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft sounds of the night.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Lumine shifted slightly beside her. When Keqing opened her eyes and turned to look at her, she found Lumine watching her with an expression that made her breath catch in her throat.
“Me too,” Lumine said softly