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“Be careful next time.”
She sighs, securing the bandage around his arm, pristine white a sharp contrast against all the earlier red – scarlet blossoms unfurling, deadly and beautiful, across his pale skin.
When was the last time she saw so much blood? She can’t quite remember.
“I will.” Xiao’s voice is quiet, distant. For someone who just earlier looked like he might end up bleeding to death – or perhaps that’s her panic colouring her memory in shades of unreliability, she can’t be sure – he seems startlingly calm.
Then again, Xiao is always calm. She has to wonder how many times he’s done this exact thing before. Returning to his room in Wangshu Inn, hurt and vulnerable, holding linen strips between his teeth as he staunches the flow of blood. She wonders if there’s anyone he can rely on when he’s injured, when he’s in need of help – who does he turn to when he’s at his weakest?
It frightens her to think he might have been alone all this time. Years turn into decades turn into centuries and still, he stands, the Guardian Yaksha, waging an endless war against those who might wish Liyue harm.
But given enough time, even the most impervious rock will begin to crack. And Xiao, who hides his gentleness behind a shell of disaffection – Xiao, who plays his flute for the lonely qingxin, who picks up lost toys to return them to their owners – is far from invincible, no matter how powerful he might appear to be.
Even Rex Lapis has retired. The Geo Archon who reigned supreme for millennia, giving in to the twilight of yesteryear as he sheds the burdens of divine responsibility.
She sighs once more, placing the bandages back in the first aid kit Verr Goldet gave to her. It’s telling that he doesn’t leave it in his room – how many times has he returned to the inn to suffer in silence? Does he even see it as suffering, or is this simply another part of his routine?
Day in, day out, the weight of his karmic debt suffocating him. Perhaps being cut open creates enough change in his life that he no longer feels the pain.
“Thank you.” His acknowledgement is sudden, and she looks up, startled. He’s watching her, a strange look in his eyes – she can’t quite place it, but she knows it’s not one she’s seen before.
“For?” She closes the first aid kit, slanting her gaze away from him. It’s always hard to face him when he’s hurt like this. It makes her feel guilty. She should have done more, should have been there to take the blow, should have stopped him from charging headfirst into danger just because she called his name in the throes of battle –
She should have been able to handle this on her own. So why didn’t she?
“Being willing to stay,” he says, and out of the corners of her eyes, she sees him lift his wrist to his mouth, his lips grazing the clean linen. “Despite who I am. Despite…what I’m like.”
She pushes away the first aid kit with slightly more force than necessary. “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t stay? You got hurt because of me.”
And besides, she would stay regardless of his condition. It makes her chest ache, knowing that he believes himself unworthy of companionship. Knowing that one of the reasons he withdraws from the mortal world is that he thinks he’s dangerous.
Yet, she has never seen anyone as gentle as Xiao.
“That’s not your fault.” She can feel him looking at her, and she can’t help but shiver, distracted by the intensity of his gaze. “I told you before to call my name if you ever needed help.”
“I shouldn’t have needed help.” She has faced Ruin Guards countless times before. It’s almost instinctive by now, taking them down – aim for the eye, then rip them apart before they can get back up. She thinks she can do it even in her sleep.
But then she tripped. Just one time, she tripped, bow flying out of her hand – and frankly, bows had never been her strongest suit – and suddenly the Ruin Guard was upon her, the red glow of missiles burning on its shoulders.
She remembers closing her eyes, bracing herself for the pain. She remembers the shaky exhale as her lips part, unconscious. She remembers how she still tries to scramble away, reaching for her bow in the hopes that she might just make it in time –
She does not remember calling his name.
But one moment she’s waiting for the blow to come because there’s no way she can escape this unscathed, and the next moment Xiao is present and the missiles are sending him skywards, a streak of black and teal silhouetted against the empty radiance of the moon.
The Ruin Guard switched its target then, stomping towards him as he landed – she thought she heard something crack, and her heart leapt to her throat – but before she could respond, he got to his feet, polearm at the ready, rage in his eyes as he launched himself at his target.
Blood was dripping down his face but he didn’t seem to notice, and she watched, mesmerised as he made quick work of the Ruin Guard. The lethal machine was destroyed in mere seconds, its glowing core shutting down as it collapsed, little more than a heap of scrap metal.
And then Xiao was stumbling, knees meeting the ground as he gripped his polearm, using it to hold himself upright. She rushed over to him, fear leaving her breathless, and he glanced up at her, exhaustion in his amber eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” She fell beside him, arms reaching out, unsure where to touch. Unsure if she should touch, given his current condition. “You – Xiao, we need to get you back to Wangshu Inn!”
“Don’t worry…about me.” He had to pause for a breath halfway, and in the end, she decided to hold him, gingerly placing her hands on his shoulders. “This is nothing.”
Nothing compared to his usual karmic burden? Her chest twisted at the thought.
Now, with Xiao patched up and looking at her, she can’t help but feel inadequate. She knows he doesn’t blame her for his injuries, but somehow, that makes it worse. “You should rest for the next couple of days. Or you’ll aggravate your wounds.”
“Adepti heal quickly.” His voice is quiet, and she flinches, recalling the blood, the way his body flew through the air, terribly graceful. How he crashed into the ground and she thought, for one fleeting moment, that he might not get up again.
“That’s no excuse to be reckless,” she snaps, more vitriol in her voice than she expected; he blinks at her, surprise flitting across his face, and she swallows. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“It’s fine.” His gaze softens, and normally that would calm her down, but for some reason, she feels anger welling up within her and she whirls around, facing him with her hands on her hips, seething.
“No! It’s not fine!” she cries, too agitated to stop despite the way his eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. “You’re always sacrificing yourself! For people, for Liyue, for the sake of everyone other than you! Don’t you ever think it’s unfair?”
Her words linger in the air, fading slowly into silence, thick and heavy. She takes a breath, her mind scrambling back to lucidity as she realises what she’s done. “Xiao, I –”
“Thank you,” he interrupts, and she stares as he smiles at her, a response at complete odds with what she has been expecting. “I…didn’t know you cared so much about me.”
Something about his earnestness makes all the anger dissipate, and her shoulders slump as she shakes her head, defeated. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm. If I hadn’t been so careless, you wouldn’t have ended up in this state.”
“I might not have,” he acknowledges, getting up from where he was seated on the bed. She takes an instinctive step back, wincing as she knocks into the desk. “But that’s my choice. I saved you because I wanted to, not because I was ordered to.”
She inhales, distracted by the intensity of his gaze, the way it pierces through her, sharp and knowing. “But you got hurt because of me.”
Something flickers through his eyes, an emotion that's gone so quickly, she can’t tell what it is. “Again, that is my decision to make. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“What –” She wants to protest, but before she can he moves in, crowding her personal space. She’s assailed by the pungent smell of Verr Goldet's herbal ointment, but underneath it, the scent of qingxin lingers, light and delicate.
“You seem to think I do this out of pure selflessness,” he says, his voice low and quiet. She blinks, unsure how to answer as he leans in, hands placed on either side of her, trapping her against the desk. "But I’m not as kind as you think I am.”
Suddenly, it’s difficult to breathe, and she slants her gaze away, feeling almost overwhelmed by his stare. “You’ve given up so much just to ensure Liyue is kept safe.”
“I don’t mean that.” He’s so close she can see the dark fan of his eyelashes when he blinks, the way they cast faint shadows upon his cheeks. “When I’m with you, sometimes…”
He hesitates then, and she bites her lip, suddenly afraid of what he might say. She can sense the air itself seething, filled with tension that has never been present between them before. “Xiao?”
Those amber eyes meet hers, conflicted. His name hangs between them, the syllables fading into the room. She opens her mouth once more, but before she can speak he closes the gap between them and then all she feels is his lips upon hers, soft and warm and questioning.
She freezes, her eyes widening as he kisses her, hands reaching up from the table to grip her wrists. Everything feels so vivid all of a sudden – his skin, warm against hers. His scent wrapping around her, familiar and comforting. The way his hair brushes her cheek as he leans further in, her eyes closing as she slowly responds to the kiss.
Caught between Xiao and the desk, she can’t move even if she wants to.
But then he cups her cheek, and she can feel the bandages wrapped around his palm, coarse and scratchy. She’s abruptly reminded of his injuries, and then she’s pulling away, ignoring how her heart flutters when he chases her, only stopped by the press of her finger against his lips. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Are you upset?” he asks. His voice trembles, the first time she has ever seen him nervous. “I-I apologise. I don’t know what I was thinking –”
“No, I’m not upset.” Quite the contrary, in fact – she’s still reeling from the kiss, emotions all over the place. “But you shouldn’t be exerting yourself.”
She knows she’s not mistaking the faint flush that’s spread across his face. “This is nothing.”
“I don’t want to hear you saying that. Come on, you need rest.” She takes hold of his wrist, her touch careful, gentle, and he follows her, allows her to lead him away from the desk and back to the bed.
She pushes him down, again gentle but firm, and reluctantly he settles on the mattress – she pretends not to notice him wince, thinking that’s the least she can do for him. Then she turns away, deciding it’s time to leave him alone, but he grabs the ends of her scarf, his grip so weak that she’d have no problem breaking free if she tries.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she turns and looks at him, curious. Her lips still tingle from the kiss, but she ignores that for now, focusing on his face, on the quiet plea in his eyes. “I don’t…wish to be alone.”
There is vulnerability in his voice, so rare and unexpected that for a moment, she thinks she’s misunderstood. “You want me to stay with you?”
He nods, averting his face. He looks equal parts hopeful and afraid, and she softens – she has never been able to deny him anyway, not really. So, she sits beside him, the mattress shifting beneath her weight, and places her hand over his. “Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes,” he answers. She stares at him – the bandages around his arms and wrists, the gauze on his forehead, the way his eyes continue to burn despite his battered condition.
Xiao is the Vigilant Yaksha. She knows he’s not lying when he says he’s taken worse than a Ruin Guard; he’s fought in so many wars, defeated so many enemies. Yet the resignation that crosses his face when she fusses over him, the way he flinches away from her, as though he fears what she might do to his wounds –
It makes her chest heavy.
She understands how much he’s giving up to make this request of her. Understands what his kiss means, the silent question he doesn’t give voice to even as they lean into each other, her hand sweeping his hair behind his ear.
“Then I’ll stay.” Her voice is soft, almost inaudible even in the silence of his room. “I’ll stay until the day you ask me to leave, and even then, I’ll stay some more.”
His breath catches, and then he’s closing his eyes, a gentle smile curving his lips – it’s a sight that takes her by surprise, and she stares at him, entranced by the peace in his expression. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” she says after a pause, but she takes his hand again, her fingers slipping into the spaces between his, and together they wait for the sun to rise.