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“That would be 1500 Mora,” the lady at the grocery stall says. Zhongli freezes, not even reaching for the inner pocket of his coat.
“Ah,” he says, “I’m afraid I forgot.”
The elderly lady chuckles, amused. Zhongli does not visit her stall for the first time, and the morning rush already passed. Now, only a few idle shoppers browse for wares, and trade gossip.
“Young man, you should be more mindful next time,” she scolds Zhongli. “Did not your friend also pay for you, the last time, too?” And all the times before, she adds in her mind. “Is he not with you today?”
Zhongli, several millennia senior to the grey-haired woman, casts a longing gaze to ocean. “Regrettably, no.”
Childe hasn’t been in contact ever since the truth came out. It stings more than Zhongli expected. And he can’t forget the look of betrayal in Childe’s eyes either. Their blue shines like the ocean (though it rarely sparkles, Zhongli took note), but that day they looked flat. It left Zhongli searching for words he could not find.
“About the Mora, I will return and …”
“Allow me,” an accented voice interrupts. Zhongli turns to see Ekaterina place a delicate purse of Mora on the wooden boards. She smiles behind her mask.
The seller looks suspicious and opens the purse to see bright golden coins. Her eyebrows rise. “That is too much!”
Zhongli approvingly notes her honesty. A good contract allows both sides to profit - and does not need him to interfere.
Ekaterina laughs. “Take it as an advance payment for future purchases.”
The seller’s eyes light up. “I see, I see. Indeed, the gentleman seems to forget his wallet rather often.”
She shares a laugh with Ekaterina and Zhongli feels as if they’re laughing at him. Which is a thing he has little experience with. Though Rex Lapis even less. And he doesn’t really know where that leaves him.
In any case, there are more pressing matters on his mind.
“Miss,” he says as Ekaterina turns to leave again. “I was wondering…” Perhaps he is overstepping. After everything, Childe is in his rights to break off all contact. So, would he be, considering the danger Childe brought upon the city. Though, arguably, that occurred with Zhongli’s permission.
Ekaterina glances away, looks toward the ocean. Its color deepens this close to sunset, and the breeze raises small, white-capped waves.
“Officially, Master Childe has completed his mission and currently awaits further orders,” she replies. “It is likely he will return to Snezhnaya before long.”
Zhongli’s heart clenches for no reason at all.
Then she sighs and looks at Zhongli. “This is for you.”
She hands over another Mora-filled purse and leaves before Zhongli can figure out what he wants to ask. Childe returning to his home is how things should be. Liyue will even be safer for it.
Still…
There’s a piece of paper with an address hidden between the Mora.
Childe’s lodgings are surprisingly inconspicuous. Located in a quiet, residential neighborhood, they’re different from the ostentatious official
housing the north land bank offers. Loitering in the street, Zhongli already attracted several curious looks.
He’s … uncertain how to proceed.
Their story has concluded. The truth out, the contracts completed. No need for further entanglements. And yet, the moment Zhongli read the address, his feet took him out of the door. Despite it being late already.
He takes another step forward.
Stops.
Zhongli tells himself he will just knock. Maybe offer Childe to explain everything in more depth since their last conversation happened under less-than-ideal circumstances. He walks forward again.
But there hasn’t been any indication Childe wants to talk to him. Maybe Childe considers everything done and over and has already stopped thinking about Zhongli altogether.
Zhongli stops. The door looms before him, wooden with symmetrical carvings.
He’s overthinking. He should just knock and find out - Childe will send him away if he doesn’t want his company. It’s as simple as that. Zhongli raises his hand to knock.
But what if -
The door swings open. Childe, hair more tousled than normal and wrapped in an oversized coat, gives him a wry look. “I’m not sure what you are doing,” he says, hoarsely, “But you can continue your ruminations inside. It’s warmer and won’t cause the neighbors to call the Millileth.“
Right, Zhongli realizes. Childe chose this neighborhood to keep a low profile. The former geo-archon loitering outside of his door constitutes the opposite.
“Thank you,” he says and takes the invitation.
Childe chuckles and allows Zhongli to enter. He sways as he walks, distracting Zhongli from the warm and rather personable home.
“I’m afraid you’ll find the place is a bit of a mess,” Childe calls from where he makes a beeline for the imported sofa in another room. The table next to it overflows with books, notes, gadgets, and medical supplies. There are bandages peeking out from underneath Childe’s sleeves, too. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors, I’m afraid.”
He collapses rather than sits on the sofa. Zhongli’s eyebrows furrow - Childe’s pallor is off, too pale under flushed cheeks, and the jovial mask only half in place. The omnipresent medical supplies constitute the second clue.
Zhongli crosses the room in long steps before he can think. He strips off his glove and reaches for Childe’s wrist - and ejects a surprised flinch.
“You’re hurt,” Zhongli states, not letting go of the thinner-than-expected wrist. Childe has that effect where his presence makes him appear larger than he is.
“Ah, a little?” Childe supplies in question. “It’s nothing concerning, don’t worry.”
Zhongli finds himself more concerned. Wordlessly, he presses his fingers against Childe’s wrist. It’s … been a while since he offered any medical aid, but Zhongli remembers. And what he finds makes his frown deepen.
“Childe,” he says, solemnly. “That is not a small injury.”
Childe tries to tug his wrist from Zhongli’s hold. Zhongli tightens his grasp.
“It happens,” Childe huffs, avoiding Zhongli’s gaze. As he turns his head, Zhongli catches sight of bruises hidden under his collar. He wonders how many more injuries lurk under Childe’s clothes. Childe’s pulse alone gives reason for concern.
“Childe,” Zhongli says. “At least tell me you saw a doctor.”
Childe gives a shrug that is as good as a no. Zhongli closes his eyes, gathers his patience. This is not the first time he met one unwilling to care for himself - but Childe is only human.
Zhongli’s chest grows tight. Is it his fault? When he’d struck the deal with the tsaritsa, he had not considered her means. Had not expected to grow to care for one of her agents. Now, once acceptable collateral damage has turned against him.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes before he can stop himself.
Childe’s eyes open and he stares at Zhongli, bewildered. “Uh, I’m not dying? Look, I know this looks bad - believe me, I feel just the way it looks - but it … happens? Like, it takes some time to heal, but I will heal. If you come back in a week, I should be back on my feet, mostly.”
But rather than assuaging the guilt, Childe’s words twist the blade in Zhongli’s heart. Despite having been used as a pawn, Childe ignores his own pain to soothe Zhongli’s confusion - and Zhongli can’t help but think he doesn’t deserve it, not after what he did. Not while knowing that the test he wished for nearly cost Childe’s life.
“Zhongli?” Childe calls out. “Mister Zhongli, what’s wrong?” With his left hand still caught in Zhongli’s grasp, he can only reach out with his right. The one that’s bruised and bandaged from the wrist down. But it’s warm where it brushes against Zhongli’s cheek and comes away wet.
“Oh,” Zhongli realizes. “I’m crying?”
Childe huffs out a wry laugh. “Zhongli, you need to work on the being human thing a bit more.” He dramatically flops back against the pillows. “Really, I fail to understand how I didn’t figure it out any sooner.”
In fact, he has figured it out by now. He’d had his suspicions - not that he wanted to follow them up, for reasons he’d rather not explore. But then he’d witnessed Rex Lapis die and met a very alive Zhongli later and well.
“I’m sorry for deceiving you;” Zhongli says.
Childe opens one eye. “You aren’t,” he points out, lightly. When Zhongli looks consternated, he adds: “Your plan hinged on keeping everyone in the dark.”
Zhongli deflates. “I still … wish I had not brought harm onto you.”
Childe chuckles at that. “To be fair, you did not. Using foul transformation was my own choice - I only regret I did not get to fight you.”
Zhongli looks rather appalled at the notion. “That thing is destroying you from within! You should not ever use it again.” His eyes light up as he looks through the room for the cursed delusion. Had it not been hidden from sight; he might have destroyed it on the spot. The idea leaves Childe’s mouth dry.
“... that might be difficult to achieve,” Childe points out. He isn’t certain how the tsaritsa intends to use him in the future - this mission certainly did not endear him to his work. But she‘s sensitive to these shifts, his next appointment will likely constitute a form of appeasement toward him.
Meaning a lot of fighting.
Zhongli’s eyes glow once more, and Childe realizes he may have better said nothing at all. Before Zhongli can suggest any sort of contract, Childe hurriedly concedes: “But for now I’m resting first. Until I’m fully recovered.”
That is, unless Teucer or another urgent issue turns up, but Childe is relatively certain the next weeks ought to be quiet. Zhongli looks barely assuaged, however, yet Childe only feels fond. Oh, a part of him thinks he ought to be furious with the way he’s been played. And when he took a quiet minute to reflect, the entire affair leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Zhongli had known all the time - so what had Childe been to him? A tool? Or some entertaining toy?
It stings. But faced with Zhongli, Childe finds he cannot hold onto his anger. Perhaps he’s too cynical - for what is a harbinger to the tsaritsa but a tool? That disappointment that the Zhongli he met was not real should not faze him.
Exhaustion crawls over him. “I’ll be fine, Zhongli,” he promises and settles down. “There’s no need for concern. But if there’s anything else you need, let me know.”
Zhongli’s eyes study him with that unchanging, discomforting intensity. The former archon remains curiously out of sorts - but thinking of him as a stranger to humanity explains a lot.
“... I am bothering you,” Zhongli concludes yet makes no move to leave. Childe wants to laugh - barging in at night on a convalescent person, yeah, that’s called bothering. A little more, considering they parted on bad terms.
“I don’t mind,” Childe replies honestly.
“But you wonder if I am using you for my own ends again,” Zhongli points out.
“Would you blame me?” Childe teases.
Zhongli exhales. “I understand.” He looks pitiful enough for Childe’s heart to soften. Not that this is necessary, for some reason, he had never been truly angry to begin with. Somewhere during the weird game Zhongli had wormed his way inside his heart. Looking at him now, chances are it was mutual.
Aren’t they both fools, Childe wonders. He twists his wrist in Zhongli’s hold to tangle their fingers. Takes a deep breath. Offering his heart isn’t his forte, and potentially another road to disaster, but hey. What doesn’t kill you, makes you strong.
“I get it,” Childe says. “And ill-advised as it may be, I don’t mind. I mean, I guess I will remain in Liyue for a while longer and wouldn’t mind having company. If you’re interested, that is.”
His heart races and there’s no way Zhongli can miss that. Except Zhongli looks at him with wonder, and well. The angels sing. Or something.
“Thank you,” Zhongli solemnly replies. “This time I will not let you down.” It feels as if signing some
contract, and Childe wonders what ramifications there might be down the road. For now, he laughs, elated. Even more so, when Zhongli also sports a tentative smile, and the world feels a little brighter than before.
There’s going to be obstacles. Lots of them. But hey, maybe things will be alright.
Fin