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Guizhong was not human.
Yet, she had conducted herself with such gentleness that — after all these years, Morax still remembered her perfectly.
Morax had met Guizhong in the midst of a glowing field of blue petals, celestial flowers awakening to sublime singing that could banish even mist and rain. At that time, he had still been wandering the earth for the sole purpose of violent warfare.
She was the exact opposite.
Guizhong relied on her wits, unsuited for combat. She lived a life of earnest honesty, holding onto her own ideals and simple pride.
Lacking in strength and still, she was a force to be reckoned with. After all, the both of them had ended up working together, establishing their own prosperous assembly, the Guili Assembly– when Morax went by the sobriquet of Zhongli.
She vehemently swore to protect the humans inhabiting the place as she recognized their willpower and their fragility, hoping for them to grow. Humanity was never something Morax had ever cared for and, really, he never thought that’d change either.
In hindsight, this might have been the reason as to why they worked so well together. Guizhong unveiled a sort of simplicity to him, in a way that he had never known before.
He would never be able to express his gratitude towards her as one could never return to the past.
He remembered her love for the flowers that were once a common sight in their land. Fortunately, those glaze lilies prevailed in a world of bloodshed and ravaging war — she, but, returned to dust.
And amongst those lilies, she changed the tone of his song forever.
It would take many years for the Archon War to reach its end. Errant gods strove for dominance in their pursuit of the seven divine seats of Celestia. The destructive force of the battle laid waste to their once successful land.
Morax had no time to mourn.
Even with the help of the other adepti, he was unable to protect their shared land amidst a relentless tide of war. In his grief, he took his people south of Mt. Tianheng, and this time, he established a new haven as the sole ruler. Guili Plains was abandoned for good and all, left to become nothing but wasteland.
He did not allow morale to fall and led his people with conviction. He remembered arriving upon the new region, his people’s hearts alight with new-found hope and it was almost as if there wasn’t something, or rather, someone missing.
He remembered the biting cold wind and the pouring rain, the unforgiving night dragging shivers out of his skin. With his teeth clenched, he looked ahead, albeit followed by a haunting ache.
The new land bore the name of Liyue Harbor and blended in with the endless sea of a sickly blue color.
In quest of rebuilding their shared sanctuary, the newborn harbor of Liyue prospered under the rule of Rex Lapis. In forthcoming years, his people turned to commerce and artisanship and few emerged to become above the rest; human leaders who would govern over others, furthering stability.
Yet, the never-ending Archon War still persisted. Alongside his people, Morax swore to defend his new land during dire times, from other gods and ruthless monsters.
He set aside his own heartache — memories and feelings blending into each other, for the sake of his nation.
The stone lances he had created to banish evil caused many demons to arise. They had become divine with time, however, hatred and regret of the defeated grew within.
Morax tasked yakshas to defeat them, of which many became corrupted and departed regretfully. Only two of the yaksha remain to this day — Alatus and Bosacius.
At this point in time, Morax could sense the end of the war nearing.
The two, Alatus and Bosacius, had been enduring a fate of endless pain and yet, they didn’t falter. Alatus, in particular, had struck him.
The yaksha had been forced to serve a vile archon, exploiting his power for his own greed. As helpless as he was, there was nothing he could have done.
Morax defeated his master easily enough.
He was given a new chance along with a name. Xiao.
There was once a time when Morax probably wouldn’t have cared but these days he believed to discern a strange concern over this matter, feeling the need to speak to one of them.
Xiao was a man of few words. He never talked of unimportant things, foremostly focusing on his duties.
Into the late hours of the night, the yaksha sat on a large boulder at the edge of Mt. Tianheng. He was unafraid of the freezing nightly wind, as if nothing could touch him. Despite the bewitching midnight blue spreading all over the heavens, he stared into nothing in particular.
It was a rather quiet night in the face of an ongoing war.
Morax approached the boulder, slowly and silently. He supposed the other had already noticed him long ago because the yaksha never let down his guard. But now that he drew even closer, he observed a slight shift in his posture.
The two of them did not exchange a single word for a little while, solely acknowledging each other’s existence. He had expected it to remain like this, yet to his surprise, Xiao spoke.
“My Lord,” he started and straightened up. “Excuse my rudeness, but what brings you here?”
“No apologies needed,” and he turned to face Xiao, eyeing him. “Simply strolling around the region and patrolling the area. I could ask the same of you.”
“I am,” and there is a hesitant pause, “keeping an eye out as well. As the guardian yaksha, it is my duty to serve you and defend our land.”
“I see.”
Xiao showed no sign of irritation or boredom — it was simply the way he was. He was a man of few words, entrusted with the labour of eradication, accustomed to devastating war.
And Morax was met with stone cold silence again. In all honesty, there wasn’t much to be shared between the two of them. Neither was the type to initiate any kind of idle talk, much less open up about feelings.
Yet, he felt a strange feeling dredging up his gut and he felt the need to say something.
Regardless of the reason, the occasion for chatter between the both of them never really presented itself. It might have been due to the fact that the war was coming to an end, or, if he were to admit, and as absurd as it sounds—
It might have been an inexplicable urge for company.
“Sometimes a bone-aching tiredness haunts me.”
He realized, Xiao and himself, were two very separate beings, yet it seemed as if they originated from the same root. As a matter of fact, bloodshed laid in their innermost core and he, as a god of boundless slaughter, knew it all too well.
Morax gazed at the distant night in front of him. At his side, he felt the yaksha huff a silent laugh.
“That makes sense.”
Those words weighed heavily in Morax. He felt a tug at his heart upon hearing the allusive confession. There was no doubt that Xiao felt the same way.
And for the first time in forever, he allowed himself to reminisce about his past regrets. Composed of great vigor throughout the millenniums, it was rare of him to waver. But Guizhong had changed him in a mystifying way and — in his hearts of hearts, he didn’t know what to do with all these thoughts.
Morax had never known such bitter fatigue. It was as if those countless battles were eating away at him, a god of untold slaughter. The irony of it was sweet.
“I believe we are alike,” he replied with a nod. “As many others are.”
“It seems these are the effects of war,” Xiao said unflinchingly, although weariness stark in his voice.
Morax let out a joyless laugh this time.
“How is Bosacius?”
“He is well, as far as I know.”
“I see”, Morax answered, shifting his gaze to his hands. Some part of him felt relieved at that, reassured even. Xiao was, too, he’d assume. He knew the both of them cherished one another, as they stood for the same kind.
“Xia—”
Instinctively, he stilled as he registered muted footsteps against damp grass. Someone was approaching them.
“Rex Lapis!” A sharp voice cut in, steps coming to a halt.
Xiao kept his own gaze ahead of him, his back still turned away from them. Morax lifted his head to the source. It was Ganyu. He noticed the hitch in her voice.
Trembling and catching her breath after hurriedly ascending the mountain, she stood with awkward movements. She stared at them, eyes wide, her own hands gripping onto her sleeves. Something wasn’t right.
He felt shivers crawl up his back at her next words.
“There has been an attack near the harbor.”
The never-ending war was coming to a close.
Morax didn’t know how to feel. A heavy feeling of weariness followed him, a weight too heavy for his shoulders. And, more than anything, he wanted to rest. But he couldn’t, not now. Not ever. He still had duties to attend to.
He didn’t know for how long they had fought. There had been countless deaths — humans, gods, monsters, losing themselves in the name of war. There was a myriad of losses, even among his own.
Truthfully, the attack on his harbor had taken a toll on everyone. It felt as though the world had started anew; his pier left in ashes and awash with blood. Some parts of the dock had been destroyed, their efforts futile.
It didn’t matter, though. His harbor can be rebuilt unlike the lives that were lost.
Over the course of the past few weeks, one of the yakshas had disappeared. Bosacius entrusted his all to his friend.
The war ended when winter sunk its teeth into Morax’ very bones. Under rain and snow, the skies seemed more welcoming than ever, a calm blue stretched itself over the heavens — a blue as comforting as the glaze lilies Guizhong had shown to him.
On the first day of spring, many years later, he felt a warmth breathe back into his body, a chill soothing his burns. The sunlight bathed his nation and branded itself onto his skin, as if to bring hope into an unsparing world.
It made his eyesight hazy.
His land had become his own flesh and blood, and the currency all over Teyvat was named after him. Devoting himself solely to his duties, he had become the guarantor of his people’s hard work, wisdom and future.
It is where he met the six other archons, as they shared the sweet taste of Osmanthus wine. The Anemo Archon, in particular, loved to drink.
Relentlessly so.
Barbatos was quite an unpleasant fellow, pulling pranks on him whenever he wished.
(In a way, he also felt like a fresh breath of air.)
Over the following hundreds of years, Barbatos would come to pay visits. It didn’t take much for him, the two nations bordering on each other. Liyue and Mondstadt were neighbouring lands, after all.
Unlike Rex Lapis, Barbatos acted much more leniently as an archon. At first, it seemed ridiculous to him, as they had completely different approaches to their governance. He, as the Lord of Contracts now, personally guided his people to prosperity and helped them flourish. The Anemo God, however, barely even showed up.
It was bizarre to him. He felt somewhat affronted, even. A disgrace to the arts.
Until Barbatos divulged Mondstadt’s history to him. It made a lot of sense — the God of Freedom, acting in such a sparing way. He didn’t know if he could ever get accustomed to such an approach, letting humans govern over his land without any divine intervention.
It seemed, only time will tell.
Even so, he gained a little more respect for the other, on that day.
Barbatos stopped by more often than not. It was plausible, considering he didn’t have much to do in his own nation, besides foolishly roaming around the lands.
As much as he tried to conceal it, he enjoyed his company.
One time, he had even invited Rex Lapis to stop by in Mondstadt. Though, he never took the invitation.
The Anemo God fancied Xiao and Ganyu. The three of them would engage in idle chatter quite frequently, though, always initiated by Barbatos.
It was… invigorating. The sight of the three of them, fooling around. The other deity would even bring his nation’s most prized Dandelion wine, to let everyone indulge. Rex Lapis must admit, he took a liking to it.
He let himself smile fleetingly.
Perhaps the lightheartedness of the Anemo Archon had rubbed off on him. After roaming this earth for as many years as him, a change was to be expected. Truth to be told, it seemed Guizhong had been the start of all — from his inmost beliefs to his view of human nature. He wondered what she’d think of him now.
From time to time, Rex Lapis would blend in with the sea of mortals, not shying away from interacting with them. He wished to know more, to acquire more knowledge in pursuit of understanding.
He wanted to understand gods such as Barbatos or Guizhong; those who loved humans dearly.
When he spotted red hair — much like flames, blaring and vibrant — amidst grassland, only punctuated by the lone glaze lilies, he felt intrigued. The human’s red locks were falling out of his dark hood, barely hidden, like a tempered storm.
It was entrancing.
Heedlessly, he approached the mortal, and he didn’t know why. He wasn’t sure why the scarlet red hair had captivated him to such an extent, but he only knew that it was bewitching.
Perhaps, that was the reason for his sudden fascination — for some reason or another, he had become fond of beautiful things.
The human straightened up and his gaze flickered towards Rex Lapis. And he noticed, the eyes were of the same red color as his hair, perhaps even more vivacious. His expression turned into a hostile glare and it weighed on him as heavily as a mountain.
“What do you want from me?”
He had turned to face him fully. His whole body was covered by a dark cloak, merely his face and his hair visible to him. Rex Lapis wondered what someone like him was doing in Liyue — someone as entrancing as him.
He was unsure what he expected by speaking to the man, even so he presumed it was merely out of a feeling resembling curiosity, regarding mortals. To be truthful, he had never witnessed a human with hair as red as his.
It seemed the other felt threatened, judging by his hesitant stance. Morax felt the need to clarify.
“I apologize.”
The other didn’t budge much, merely narrowing his eyes.
“I am but a traveller, simply passing by. I saw you from a distance, staring at the lilies. I was wondering why —”
He wasn’t entirely sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he was under the impression that, only for a second, the man’s cheeks had gone slightly pink. Maybe. He wasn’t sure, however, why the stranger was giving him such an incredulous stare.
“Spare me,” the redhead grumbled in resignation. “I was hoping to collect these flowers. I... I tried to get them to open, although, in vain.”
“The… lilies?” Rex Lapis grabbed his chin in contemplation, as if it’d help. “You must sing to the flower for its petals to ope—”
“I am aware,” he replied. “They won’t open. I assume it’s because I know nothing of Liyuean music.”
The deity’s eyes widened. Was he supposed to tend to the flowers now? He still knew of the long forgotten tune, after all. It was a tune that Guizhong had always lovingly hummed when they were together. The melody that reigned when they had first met.
As much as he could admit, he still remembered the tune. He remembered it, albeit vaguely, as if he was listening to Guizhong’s singing voice through a mindless haze.
He drew closer, turning his gaze downwards in order to better examine the single lily. The other stared at him with a fleeting edge of confusion, but didn’t dare to speak. An indescribable feeling coiled tight in his stomach; reminiscence perhaps.
It was not a longing ache.
Not anymore.
With the passing years, he’d become gradually accustomed, experiencing his being in a way he had never before, yet still honoring his past love. He would never forget. He could never forget.
A feeling he couldn‘t really put into words.
(Unfathomable gratitude.)
And so, he began to sing.
Although, it wasn’t perfect, and, presumably, it will never be. He was solely humming from memory — a bygone melody that was shared between two gods. And it felt as though a weight lifted off his chest, the tune naturally escaping his lips.
He had closed his eyes, letting the sight of the radiating sun escape from his grasps. It had started to set, dark blue skies merging with an amber orange and he felt the sunlight hit his face as something fond spread warmly through his being.
Be that as it may, he accomplished his goal; the flower flourished. The blue petals opened, revealing the golden corolla. It shone, a glow brighter than he recalled. A momentary smile played at his lips, impressed by his own self.
So naturally, one would expect praise. But as he turned his head sideways, facing the redhead, the man uttered —
“You’re strange,” he spoke, an eternity later.
Huh?
An abrupt quiet reigned for a second.
He blinked uncomprehendingly; once, twice.
Was he insulting him? He thought of the past few minutes, going over each action, in quest of finding out what exactly he did wrong. Indignation swelled in his chest.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, the other solely muttered a quiet ‘Thank you’, and further covered his head with his hood. He swiftly plucked the flower in front of them, albeit, with meticulous care.
Rex Lapis observed him as he wordlessly stood up from his kneeling position, preparing to leave. He caught a brief glimpse of his face — a hint of a smile. Astonishingly, it made him forget the irritation he had felt, moments before.
Without thought, he took the redhead by the wrist to stop him from departing.
The other flinched, seemingly discomfited by the sudden touch.
“What are you doing.”
It didn’t seem like a question, but more of a demand. A request, directed at him, to release his arm.
There was a menacing glint in those ruby eyes, stark against the forthcoming night sky. He shook off the hold on him as he shifted irritably, yet attentively, as to not perturb the glimmering flower.
Even so, the deity glanced back at him, unflinchingly. He pushed himself forward, stepping closer to the other, meeting his eyes.
“What exactly did you mean by that…” As a literal god amongst humans, he was aware that he differed from the usual mortal. However, strange…?
”You…” The redhead commenced, but paused as he let out a huff. It came out quite rigidly, and he probably hoped to end this as quickly as possible. By contrast, Rex Lapis was left utterly bewildered, eagerly awaiting an answer to his question. A desire to learn more.
“You come out of nowhere, suddenly approaching me and the next second you start singing to a flower. Wouldn’t anyone find that strange?”
Oh. That thought actually hadn’t occurred to him.
“Also, the horns on your head. I have never seen another human being with horns. I suppose that explains why you’d know traditional Liyuean music.”
Oh. Once again. The realization promptly dawned upon him. He took notice of the form he would take when roaming the earth; the body of a mere mortal with Qilin horns growing out of his head.
In his defense, he didn’t appear much in front of humans, as Rex Lapis. And whenever he did descend, he took the shape of a sublime dragon. He honestly hadn’t expected to meet anyone here. This place had been left to become wilderness, after all — the ruins of what was once the Guili Assembly.
He pushed himself upright. At the sight of the other’s frown, he hastily attempted to think up an excuse, not wanting to introduce himself as the archon. Ganyu’s origins crossed his mind.
“I am… half-human and half-adepti. It was my duty to assist you.”
The human merely squinted at him, an evident lack of trust. However, if he had discerned the deliberate falsehood of that statement, he said nothing of it.
“The flowers won’t stay like that for long, they will proceed to close once more. I figured you were planning on keeping them.”
At that, his eyes widened in surprise— the distinct red eyes that left Rex Lapis unconditionally mesmerized. The confusion was stark in his features and softened his frown, but his resolve did not falter.
“I need them to be opened, though.” The other said with another glare. Even so, it came out more troubled than he probably intended to. Rex Lapis saw the effects of his words; the way the redhead would clench his jaw and the slight raise of his brows.
Once again attempting to end the conversation here, he turned on his heels as he prepared to take his leave.
“Wait,” the god implored, falling into step with the human. “I might be able to help you. I can sing the melody again and again, when the petals close.”
And that seemed answer enough, as the other halted and the tension lessened. Rex Lapis stood still as their eyes met again, breath entirely caught. A knot eased in his chest, replaced by an odd itch. He couldn’t recollect the last time he had felt this fascinated.
After an unnaturally long pause of contemplation, the man opened his mouth to reply.
“Fine,” he inhaled deeply. His next words were said with hardly any voice. “Follow me.”
Rex Lapis didn’t really know where they were headed to. The redhead hadn’t filled him in on any background information and kept to himself. If truth be told, another quiet would have reigned if it wasn’t for the tottering footsteps.
The archon had taken notice of the nature of his steps — quite evidently, the man was in a haste. He wondered if it had something to do with the lily, for it to keep its unfolded shine. Although, it truly wouldn’t have mattered since he could simply chant the tune again.
Not long after, the spring rain started pouring all over the earth, forcing them to pause at a nearby inn.
He must admit, the inn itself wasn’t anything special; the primitive building seemed to be in its first stages. Nonetheless, there was a certain appeal, like a diamond in the rough. It was built upon a massive stone pillar, an impressive feat.
As they entered the inn, he discerned an uncomfortable feeling that had been following him around.
The cold nightly wind, blending in with the wetness of rainfall, had caused a chill to spread through his bones. Though, as a god, he thought little of such trivialities. It was simply a drawback of the current form he had taken, half-human and half-adepti.
However, the same cannot be said about his companion. A human.
Under the undimmed light of the inn, he was able to take a closer look at him. The man appeared as if exhaustion had just crashed upon him; he noticed stark bags under his eyes as well as trembling hands, still protecting the flower.
“Are you alright?” He dared to ask.
In that moment he felt an odd feeling overcome him – the urge to take off his own cloak, and to wrap it around the human. And as a matter of fact, the other most likely required it more than he ever would.
“I’m fine,” the redhead replied, glancing down at the lily. As though he was more worried about the plant than himself. “Don’t concern yourself.”
A troubled frown appeared on his own face, something akin to concern evident. Still, he didn’t want to push.
“Let’s stay here for the night,” he began anyway. “I possess more than enough mora to pay for the both of us, it is no trouble.”
The other made a face.
“I cannot wait any longer. The path is a long one and I am in a hurry,” he retorted. “We have to resume our journey once the rain stops.”
This time, Rex Lapis was the one to give him an exasperated stare. This man didn’t even realize the condition his own body was in. He gazed at the trembling hands, listened to his ragged breathing. Humans were so fragile.
“There is no use in hurrying if you won’t even make it that far.”
At that, the man snapped his head towards him. But, the God of Geo isn’t one to retreat — he never was — and stared right back at him, in those red eyes.
“The night is long and there are many monsters hiding beneath the darkness. Besides, I can tell you’re tired, too,” he resumed, in hopes the other would come to his senses. “Also, I can sing to the flowers again, when the petals close.” It was what he had promised, anyway. It was the reason he had been accompanying him.
The redhead took a second to send him the most vindictive glare he had ever seen. Ultimately, he let out a deep sigh as he shifted relentingly, peering at the mural right next to them.
“Fine. Do as you please.”
Rex Lapis swallowed tensely, lips thinning. He realized he might have overstepped some boundaries with that.
“My apologies. Please excuse my bluntness.”
It got him a curt huff.
Immediately upon saying that, the inn owner entered the scene. She probably had been watching them from afar, wondering whether to intervene or not.
Their room had one single bed.
On his journey, the man hadn’t considered the issue of mora. Apparently, he foolishly believed he’d pluck a lily and swiftly return back home. And, evidently, he couldn’t just cough up some money, unlike him; the god who could create mora within the snap of a finger.
Which is why Rex Lapis had to pay for the room. It wasn’t a big issue, really. However, the other wasn’t of the same opinion.
He insisted upon renting only one room. It’s too expensive, he had said. Renting two rooms is a hassle, he had protested. It was obvious, the other didn’t want to stay in his debt. Even though the deity would complain that you don’t have to pay me back.
And so, it was one chamber, one bed.
Again, there was no issue here. Rex Lapis was solely afraid, the other would mind. Perhaps, the latter didn’t want to stay in his vicinity after he had overstepped some boundaries. He didn’t want the redhead to detest him, after all.
Except, his worries turned out to be pointless. The man had put the flower on the corner table, and naturally, with extreme carefulness. He also sent him another glare warning, don’t you dare touch it.
He didn’t really comprehend why the redhead cherished the flower so much, but, needless to say, he respected his wishes.
They laid down on their respective sides of the bed. As it happens, he didn’t necessarily need sleep. As a god, he had no use for it. As half-human and half-adepti, he supposed it might possess some value.
It was certainly not common for him to doze off. Though, he could not exactly stand up and leave, as it would draw suspicion.
He didn’t sense any movement from the other either. Unsure if the other had fallen asleep or not, he didn’t dare to turn around. Even if he did — most likely, he wouldn’t glimpse much more than his back.
So, Rex Lapis closed his eyes.
He would return to the harbor once this matter is over. He trusted Xiao and the other adepti enough; they would manage without him, only for a while.
Slumber came easier than he had expected.
As anticipated, the petals closed once more during the night.
They must have taken the wrong path because, judging by the other’s growing apprehension, the journey back was taking a lot more time than predicted.
Although, the past two days hadn’t been too unpleasant; every so often, the both of them would even engage in trivial conversations. Arguably, there wasn’t much else to fill in time.
Rex Lapis would recount long forgotten tales about his nation, and the redhead appeared to enjoy listening to them. Sometimes, he’d even catch a short-lived smile on the other’s face. And every time, a feeling close to fondness would spread through his chest.
The mortal had also taken his advice to heart, he believed. He would allow himself to rest when his body ultimately ached, avoiding reckless actions. Instead of heedlessly advancing, he took the time to replenish his energy.
On this day, however, the redhead seemed rather anxious, fumbling with the ends of his tunic. The lily, still in his hands, had been in a surprisingly pristine condition. But at this moment, the untarnished flower seemed to waver.
Above all, the ancient glaze lilies revealed unfeigned sentiments and transformed feelings into fragrance. Unease and apprehension would eat away at their roots.
“Are you okay?” he quietly asked, following his steps. He genuinely wanted to know, hoping he could do something — anything — to ease his worries.
“Yes,” he replied, gaze flickering towards him. “Please think nothing of it.”
Silence stretched itself between them once more. Rex Lapis tasted something bitter at the back of his throat. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle a situation like this — Guizhong probably would have known, he swallowed.
Another thought sprang to his mind.
A faint wish to see the other smile again.
He couldn’t stop himself from pondering, brows furrowed and scowl materializing on his usually calm face. Staring down at his feet, walking side by side, he wondered.
“Stop brooding,” the man called out to him, halting in his steps. “I am fine. Really.” He turned to him, meeting his gaze, soft and fond. Rex Lapis’ feet felt like they were locked in place, captivated and fixed.
Their faces were close; the redhead’s face, too close to his own. Their noses, barely a breath's width between them.
“I—”
Then he felt a brisk and dull pain.
The other had flicked his forehead.
“Ouch.”
When they parted, it felt as though time had slowed down. Rex Lapis blinked disbelief out of his eyes, hazily staring in front of him. And all of a sudden, the redhead laughed — he laughed into his hand, a short-lived melody that would forever follow him. Another tune he’d never forget.
It left him feeling strangely young.
Their journey concluded just as the sun had set.
The god recognized the place; it was still a part of his own land, his beloved land. Though bordering Barbatos’ nation, he only knew the terrain vaguely. A distant town, high up the rough mountains, behind Qingce village and the Wuwang hills.
Night fell around them as they made their way through the village. He noticed the way people were returning to their homes, firmly closing their doors as though they were warding them off.
He noticed the way the redhead would cover his own head, his scarlet locks, with his hood. It seemed as if he was further hiding himself with his cloak, blending in with the unending silent night.
An endless myriad of doubts occupied his mind as he bit back another are you alright? He was unsure if it was the right time to ask, restraining himself from doing so. Yet the question burned at his lips.
As if the redhead had recognized his uncertainty, he spoke, hoping to explain.
“My father is sick.”
He uttered those words with such reluctance, and Rex Lapis hesitated to reply anything at all. He tried to untangle those words, in a futile attempt to get a solid grasp of this sudden revelation.
This time, he felt an ache in his chest. It was an ache he hadn’t felt in a long while.
The both of them were still walking alongside each other, heading for a place unknown to Rex Lapis.
“A doctor from far away — he told me I could heal him. He told me, I’d need a blooming glaze lily from the heart of Liyue.”
The god nodded, with understanding. Oh. That was why he had tended to the flower with utmost care.
“The doctor should still be at our home,” he told, eyes fixated on the flower. “He said he’d wait for me to return.”
The deity breathed in the silent night air, pondering for a second before answering. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted the other to feel comforted, to console him as if everything would turn out fine. The thought of reaching out to the other with his own hand slipped into his mind, but —
Instead, he stilled in his steps, catching the redhead’s attention. His lips curved into a smile, an effort to solace him.
“Thank you for entrusting me with this matter,” he said, spinning to face him fully. “I will make sure the flower shines as brightly as the sun.”
Rex Lapis had been paying close attention to his surroundings ever since their arrival. Which is why, he took note of the way the mortal’s home was located rather strangely; it appeared to be hidden behind all the others, a secluded house by the river.
He didn’t ask.
The house wasn’t exactly in a poor condition, though, neglected would describe it best. It was a small wooden home, and in it were three separate rooms, perfect for two. A main room that contained a living room, as well as kitchen, and two bedrooms.
Upon entering one of the bedrooms, he discerned a rather sturdy man with a build that most likely stemmed from hard work on the fields. Despite it all, he was bound to the bed, resting wordlessly. The god took notice of the many sweat drops forming on his forehead along with the bruise-like bags under his eyes.
Anyone would be able to detect the pain on his face.
The reddish hair paled in comparison to the son’s fiery red. At the father’s side, Rex Lapis assumed, was the doctor he had been told about. The human was staring at the god; an unbelieving stare.
The son turned to him, entrusting him with the single lily. Countless thoughts roamed his mind as he pondered over the possibility of failure. Then, another memory resurged at the sight of the flower; the memory of Guizhong. He wondered what she’d think of him now. He, as a former god of bloodshed, caring for humans, and even tending to them.
He took the lily with earnest gratitude and he began to hum the forgotten tune.
It was foreign to him– he didn‘t know he held so much goodness.
The sun rose idly when the father awakened, calling out to his dearest son —
Diluc.
Rex Lapis had almost forgotten to ask the mortal for his name. Although, no longer necessary.
When the father demanded to know his name, he introduced himself as Zhongli.
Fortunate enough, the father recovered, albeit slowly.
Two weeks had already passed since his arrival. He ought to return back to the harbor, as the archon. As much as he would have liked to extend his stay (just a little longer), he had duties to attend.
Sun filtered in through the thin windows, offering some warmth amidst the coolness of early spring. The sky was bright blue, solely single clouds punctuating the heavens.
He marched into the tiny kitchen, meeting the redhead — Diluc — while he was preparing breakfast. Unsurprisingly, the latter had noticed steps, turning around and peering up at him. His face along with his red, red hair basked in the sunlight, becoming golden. It was a sight to behold.
“You’re leaving today, right?”
The deity nodded, looking back at him.
“I see,” he began, though, hesitantly. “Thank you. For saving my father.”
“It was nothing,” he replied with a smile playing at his lips. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
He supposed there was still much for him to learn about this world. The time he spent here had brought him contentment beyond comprehension. It had made him feel oddly carefree and, in a sense, he felt devoid of any worries.
The thought of leaving made his chest throb once more.
Over the past two weeks, he had become acquainted with the father as well. The man brimmed with pride and energy, in surprising contrast with his initial impression of a sickly human bound to a bed. He was a noble-hearted fellow who would seize every opportunity to tell tales of his beloved family.
It was a detail that reminded the god of himself, actually. Although, instead of a family, he would naturally prattle on about his nation’s history. He couldn’t find much to say about himself.
The mother, however, had died of another illness many years before. He didn’t know much about her since she wasn’t mentioned very often, and he’d rather not force anyone to delve in painful memories. The only sign that she had lived alongside her husband and their son — a shattered earring.
Unfortunately, unpleasantries had been brought to light as well; it was an appalling reality, unfathomable to him. The family had been set apart from the rest of the village due to their crimson curls. The villagers were afraid. They were terrified as a red monster had attacked them a long time ago.
To him, it was bewildering. There was no interconnection between the two.
The townsfolk were his own people, dwelling in his own land. It made him feel quite… uncertain. He could not understand humans. He vehemently refused to understand the animosity they felt towards such a trivial matter.
His thoughts were interrupted as the redhead drew closer, moving away from the counter. “Of course. I appreciated your company, as well as my father. I believe he has taken a liking to you.”
A curt laugh spilled out of the deity’s lips.
“I am honored,” he said matter-of-factly. He shifted on his feet as his smile turned less kind. A pause reigned for a second, enough for him to search for the right words to address his unbearable concern.
“Don't let the other villagers belittle you. They know nothing of you, nor your father.”
Diluc raised a brow at that. “I know that without you telling me. I pay no mind to idiots.”
Of course. Rex Lapis knew that and still — still, he couldn’t cease his worries. No one could ever compare to a family that had welcomed him so lovingly.
“He — my father — has been feeling much better, actually. I'm sure you’ve noticed,” he added. Yet, the deity believed to detect a fleeting sadness in his voice. It made him ache, a gnawing discomfort.
“I am sure, if you ever decide to pay another visit... he will be as healthy as never before.”
The deity’s eyes widened.
“I will,” he responded in a heartbeat. “I assure you, I will return to you — and your father.” Again and again.
The redhead tore his eyes away, turning back to the stove. The god stared at his back expectantly, but, the other didn’t grace him with an answer.
In an attempt to keep the conversation alive, he made a vow. “I promise you, I will come back. Please be patient.”
He heard the other give a quiet huff. A shuffle of feet against the wooden floor.
“Don’t you dare make us wait too long.”
Returning to the harbor turned out to be a rather hard feat.
During the course of only three weeks, at most, he had gotten used to the company of Diluc. During the course of two weeks, he had gotten accustomed to a routine of waking up, savouring homemade meals, tending to fields and talking about everything and nothing.
Everything measurable would pass. He knew that because it always would.
He shed the pretense of half-human, half-adepti and became the Geo Lord once again, for he was not an irresponsible archon. He fulfilled his duties like no other, administering his land personally; it was his own flesh and blood, for as long as he lived.
Upon his return, the remaining adepti reprimanded him for his neglect. Particularly, Cloud Retainer would scold him, as if he wasn’t the archon himself. He found it was quite unnecessary, because first and foremost, he believed to know what he was doing.
Even so, It didn’t bother him too much. He was more worried about the family he had to leave behind.
They would make sure he didn’t disappear again, as he had vanished during a crucial time.
The Rite of Descension was near.
He hoped it would be over soon.
Spring had edged into a blossoming summer, the blazing sun shone onto Liyue. The invigorating wind carried green leaves, dispersing them around the region. In the depths of Liyuean forests, one could hear the rustling of trees as well as animals scurrying through the wilderness.
Rex Lapis ascended to the dizzying peaks of Jueyun Karst, marching up the intricate path of Mt. Aozang with ease. Cloud Retainer had asked him to pay a visit, wishing to share a meal with him.
What he did not expect, though, was the presence of the another adepti and —
“Yahoo!”
Barbatos.
The three — Barbatos, Xiao and Cloud Retainer — were seated on stools surrounding a small table. He pushed his feet onwards, making his way over the paved stone, towards the heart of the lake. Brittle leaves were scattered around the pond, floating gently on the surface.
The afternoon sun lingered over the mountain, over the adepti, as the rays filtered through the crown of a giant tree. Under dimmed sunlight, he felt his own face soften, followed by a familiar nostalgia. Cloud Retainer’s eyes were telling, the both of them were most likely sharing the same feeling.
Many years ago, Cloud Retainer and Rex Lapis would savour their meals in the exact same spot, alongside Guizhong. A story from way back, and yet a memory to be cherished.
The nostalgia he felt no longer sent shivers down his spine. It no longer plunged his being in sorrow. It was warm-hearted remembrance, assisting him in pushing onward.
Life on this earth could be so fleeting, and still so beautiful.
And for a moment, his mind wandered to the redhead he had met months ago, accompanied by a profuse longing.
“Feeling alright, Rex?” The other archon greeted him with a wide grin, showing his teeth. He stepped closer while patting his own shoulder. “Xiao invited me. It has been a while since we last spoke.”
At his side, the yaksha cleared his throat.
“Excuse me for the interruption. I did not tell him. I mentioned it swiftly and he took the liberty of inviting himself.”
“Same thing!”
Xiao glared at him in disbelief.
Rex Lapis could feel something akin to a headache forming.
“Will you two stop?” Cloud Retainer hissed. In the corner of his eye, he saw Barbatos tense up, most likely terrified of her wrath. But in the next moment his shoulders sagged again, a hearty laugh leaving his lips.
Despite Cloud Retainer’s firm sound, everyone could still detect the tenderness in her voice. There was affection and warmth in it.
“Welcome, Rex Lapis,” she began evenly. “Let us eat.”
—
It was late. Dusk had started to fall, sunlight replaced by the glowing moon. Ice cold water reflected the nightly sky and its stars. They had been relishing in appetizing meals as they talked about all sorts of things. Needless to say, it felt different from Diluc’s homemade meals.
Most of the time they were discussing the state of the harbor, coming up with ways to further cultivate their trade.
Barbatos offered his prized Dandelion wine as well; it was Mondstadt’s specialty. The sweetish taste refreshed one’s senses, diffusing a delicate aroma. Cloud Retainer and Xiao, albeit, left it untouched. It was only a drink shared between the two gods.
(It went without saying that Barbatos was already on his ninth drink when Rex Lapis had just poured himself a third one.)
“You know,” the God of Freedom started, pushing his empty plate away from him. He took another sip of wine before continuing. “As I see it, you appear much happier lately.”
The other deity looked sideways, eyeing the other expectantly.
“Oh, how so?”
The other adepti probably felt like they were listening in on something much more intimate, something they shouldn’t even be hearing. Rex Lapis saw them glance at each other wordlessly before turning away.
“I can’t really put it to words. It seems as if you found something to look forward to,” he licked his lips as he toyed with his cup of wine. “We haven’t seen each other in — how long? Anyways, it is merely a detail I noticed today.”
It made Rex Lapis laugh briefly. A short and boisterous laugh, amused through it all. He took another sip of wine.
“Is that so?”
“I believe so,” he responded softly. He tore his eyes away from the other, peering at the giant tree. “To be honest, it scared me a bit. In all these years I’ve known you... “
A pensive pause.
“To me, you seemed like an utter blockhead. An emotionless rock. I’ve tried to get a reaction out of you with my pranks, but it solely worked for single instants.”
Rex Lapis raised an affronted brow, hand twitching. Not knowing what to answer, he almost summoned a meteor to end the conversation right here, right now.
From the corner of his eye, he also saw Cloud Retainer and Xiao stare at one another. Their mouths twitched, probably fighting the urge to laugh.
And as if devoid of shame, Barbatos simply proceeded. “But… I am happy for you. As strange as it sounds, it is quite a pleasant sight.”
The deity’s lips parted with surprise. He had felt the amity in his voice, his integrity, the usual Barbatos. A warm feeling spread throughout him, feeling somewhat appreciative. Obviously, he didn’t forget the affronting insults from moments before but, it did soothe his indignation. A little bit.
“Actually —” Cloud Retainer snapped her head towards them, letting out a satisfied chuckle before she continued. “I suppose I’ve noticed it too. Perhaps, the sight of your own nation flourishing had a cathartic effect on you.”
“That might be it,” Rex Lapis returned a nonchalant laugh.
“Truth be told, I find myself quite enjoying life as of late.”
Barbatos brought the cup to his lips, closing his eyes.
“Let’s hope it stays that way.”
In the middle of fall, when the leaves turned into faded shades of red, Rex Lapis scaled the mountains to return to them. He had dwelled in longing for too long — the ever growing yearning too much to bear.
The other adepti had freed him from his duties, even if only for a while. It was enough for him to make himself scarce, impelled by a wish to see the other again.
Spring and summer had felt endless.
He buried himself in work, with the adepti by his side, for the sake of Liyue harbor and its people. As the overseer, he supervised contract after contract, assessing values and keeping tabs on each and every thing. On the day of the rite, he descended from the heavens in his omnipotent dragon-like form and taught them the ways of cultivation.
He had followed the same procedure countless times. It was an annual event to look forward to and yet it lasted longer than any other year.
He was exhausted.
In a way, it felt like a reward; to be able to see Diluc again after months and months of longing.
(The return of unforeseen grief,
like the beginning of pounding waves.)
The town appeared as hostile as it had been during his last stay. The unwelcoming doors were all securely shut, windows covered. Just as though the mountain was bereft of vitality — if it wasn’t for the stores and the very few people strolling around.
Wordlessly, he marched through the village. He stayed silent when the townsfolk glared at him, stupefied at his return. A frustration started swelling in his chest that made him clench his fists.
Though, all is forgotten when he reached the end, catching a glimpse of a wooden house by the river.
He took step after step, slowly picking up speed as he walked towards the abode. In the distance, he believed to make out two figures. He recognized the red, red hair; the crimson curls stood out even amongst an abundance of autumn leaves.
Rex Lapis wanted to reach for him. He breathed in shakily, an urge to rush tore through him.
But instead, he halted as the other turned around as well, noticing him. The weight of his own body was suddenly too much as though gravity was pushing him down. He felt as unmoving as stone. He couldn’t bring himself to take another step because —
Because their gazes had met. After months and months, the man suddenly stood before him once more. Diluc stood before him, looking at him with the same fiery red eyes as he had a while ago.
He felt relief deep within his heart, travelling through his entire form, spreading from his chest toward his extremities. And despite the chilly autumn air, he didn’t shudder, solely his heart aflutter.
After what felt like an eternity, he observed the other crack a smile. He felt his own lips curve upwards as well as he forced his feet forward, on a quest to get ahold of the other.
How he wished to reach out to him. To grab his hands and to fit them in his own.
“You’re back.”
Rex Lapis didn’t have any words left in him to reply. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to anymore. So in lieu, he nodded. To him, a sole nod felt sufficient.
“Took you long enough,” he whispered softly. “I thought you had forgotten about us.”
What a silly thought.
He could never forget about him.
“Let’s make a contract.”
In the small settlement that Diluc called home, no one knew of his true identity. There were no erected statues, no shared stories of his adventures. In his harbor, people would most likely recognize him the moment he showed up in his current form.
Not even Diluc knew of it.
In a way, it felt liberating. He was freed of his duties, unbound and unconfined. Finally tasting the freedom Barbatos had introduced him to and he had to admit, it wasn’t terrible. He quite enjoyed it, actually. His work as the Geo Archon was all but forgotten when he resided in the small wooden home; though, the concept of contracts still laid in his innermost core.
(In some way, he was also afraid. It made his chest weigh heavily, anxiety clawing through him whenever he thought of confessing to the other. He didn’t know how he would react — he didn’t want to find out.)
“What?”
Diluc knitted his brows as he turned to him in faint confusion. His red eyes glinted in the sunlight.
“Such as an oath… or perhaps a promise,” he clarified. “Between the both of us.”
“Where is this coming from? A promise?”
“A contract we can both benefit from.”
The other still seemed hopelessly muddled but he nodded anyway.
“My condition is…” Rex Lapis cleared his throat, heat rising to his face. An unfamiliar tremble of his fingers. “Promise me to take care of yourself.”
Diluc couldn’t find the words to answer as he wouldn’t stop gawking at him, out of bewilderment. It was enough to make the god feel deep embarrassment, cheeks tinting a shade of red. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up, after all.
Then, a wonderful laugh spilled out of the redhead’s lips; it a melody he could never allow himself to forget.
The mortal averted eye contact with him as he spoke.
“You sound like the God of Contracts or something.”
Rex Lapis let out an awkward chuckle.
“Of course I will. I have to take care of my father and…” His voice trailed off, becoming nothing but a mere whisper, too quiet for the god to hear. His cheeks dusted red.
He wished he could have heard the end of that sentence. He didn’t push.
“I see,” he nodded to himself. “So, what might be your condition?”
“Let me think.”
Rex Lapis would not find out until much later.
He returned to his people after one week.
It was completely bizarre to him when he started paying visits more frequently, leaving for days at a time. Month after month.
(Absolute bewilderment in the face of his senseless desire to see the other.)
One time, he strolled through the town alongside the human. They walked side by side, hands barely brushing against each other, on their way to run errands. He didn’t fail to recognize the pride that was in every step Diluc took and yet– the man wore a dark cloak to pointlessly hide his scarlet hair, as if ashamed.
The deity never felt the need to conceal his horns as the townsfolk acknowledged the fact that he was an ancient being, seemingly bringing prosperity to the land. To him, horns should have appeared much more peculiar than simple red hair. He shouldn‘t have to hide it.
The walk was spent in comfortable silence, a peaceful stillness. They wandered over fallen leaves– red and golden, as they hit the paved stone path. It smelled of rain and wet trees, an earthy scent looming over the town.
Their steps came to a halt at the other far end of the village, in front of a tiny store without much. As they entered, Rex Lapis let eyes roam all over the place, from the hanging plants, to the goods and eventually to the counter. There was no vendor.
He turned to the redhead, puzzled.
“There doesn‘t seem to b-”
“Good morning, Qiqi.”
To tell the truth, the deity didn‘t know who exactly the man was talking to.
Until he approached the counter and detected light purple hair. It belonged to a little girl, hiding behind the counter, or rather, resting behind it.
“Oh!” she mouthed eagerly. She straightened up and scrambled onto the stool. “Welcome back!“
Magenta colored eyes stared back at him.
“Who is that?”
“Don‘t mind him, he‘s an acquaintance.”
Acquaintance. Correct.
“He has horns!”
“I am half-adepti,“ he declared matter-of-factly, devoid of any doubt.
(Tightness in his chest.)
There was sudden uncertainty in her expression as she steered her eyes toward Diluc again. She shifted in place hesitantly as though she wished to pose a question. The deity‘s eyes flickered between the both of them.
All of a sudden, Diluc sighed into the curt silence and he felt a nudge at his side. Rex Lapis turned his head sideways to return the attention.
“She wants to touch your horns.”
Oh.
He lowered his head and his lips curled up into a light smile, humored and amused. A warm feeling swelled in his chest as he saw no harm in letting a child touch him.
Perhaps, some of the humans residing in this village weren‘t as unbearable.
“Your red hair is beautiful.”
Ruby eyes wide, averting his own.
“It brings bad luck.”
Autumn grew into winter, relentlessly cold. No rustling leaves, no chirping birds.
The deity awakened to a winter’s sun bathing his face, eyes opening and blinking sleep away. The family’s wooden house was nowhere as refined as the structures in his harbor, though, a comfortable simplicity surrounded them.
He merely wished he could have offered them more — the only source of warmth was the frosty sunlight and the occasional fire they’d start outside. And sometimes the sun wouldn’t even emerge, covered by icy clouds.
Nonetheless, everyone in the village had naturally started putting on multiple layers of clothes; coats and furs worn on top of each other in an attempt to keep them from freezing.
The cold air had entered the wooden house and it seeped through the walls, chasing any semblance of heat away. The only thing they could do was keep each other company, sharing a consoling warmth.
Diluc’s father had suggested they sleep in one bed, an offer for each time he would visit.
He first rejected that idea — not wanting to overstep boundaries once again. Before, he had always settled on the settee as it was more than enough for him. He didn’t wish to intrude, even less take a bed away from anyone.
Except, Diluc had assured him. It’s fine, he said. Don’t you remember that one time we shared a bed at the inn? I don’t mind.
And for the past few days, they had been resting in the same bed. It wasn’t terribly big, but it was enough for them to establish their respective sides. Diluc claimed the right side, he took the left one.
Today he woke up and it appeared warmer than usual.
He blinked unbelieving.
The deity shifted in place, as quietly as possible, sheets silent against his form. Feeling as though he was cradling something in his arms; the most reasonable conclusion would be, of course, a pillow. However, the texture and the consistency felt completely unalike, and it definitely wouldn’t tickle his chin in such a way. That was not a pillow, he realized.
Daring to take a peek, steering his eyes downwards and —
He was certain now. Not a pillow.
He caught a glimpse of red hair, mussed locks gently falling onto the man’s face.
Oh.
Not a pillow, he repeated to himself. He had been cradling Diluc in his arms.
The other’s chest softly rose and fell, seemingly still asleep. He was close enough that Rex Lapis could sense every breath, every sensation, and all of his warmth against himself.
His own arm laid under the human’s head, firm and secure. The other one had been draped over the other’s side. Though, the redhead’s arms tangled with his own, holding the deity in place.
Up this close, Diluc felt like summer. A solacing heat emanating from him, like no other.
It felt quite pleasant.
Despite the visible weariness marked by the bags under his eyes, he radiated a glassy glow. Red strands sprawled across the sheet, undeniable in contrast to the white bedding. It was beautiful.
But beyond everything, he was perplexed as he didn’t know what to do. Genuinely lost, he was afraid to move because, in any case, he’d awaken the other.
Also, he wasn’t sure what explanation he would possibly give, or rather could give. It was a situation he had never been in despite being thousands of years old. He didn’t know how he could justify a mishap like this. To stay this close to the other — he doubted Diluc would think well of him after this.
Panic streamed through him. Thoughts of uncertainty clouded his mind and an uneasy feeling weighed on his heart in all the wrong ways. He wondered if he could ever forgive himself if he drove the other away, merely due to the possible misinterpretation of their current mischance.
He vehemently rejected the idea of losing the other.
(Something ineffable scraped at his chest.)
And as if on cue, the redhead budged slightly and panic arose within the deity.
It sent his mind into an unnerving state. A great trepidation he hadn’t felt in ages. Despite being a god himself, the situation compelled him to make a vague prayer to someone, to anyone, who would hear him.
Dear—
“Huh?”
He forgot how to breathe.
“Zhongli?”
Diluc’s eyes were heavy-lidded as he lifted his head, gaze flashing toward him. Rex Lapis could feel every slight motion, every heartbeat as their bodies were pressed against one another, huddled together for comfort and warmth. His chest still felt tight. The other slowly blinked slumber away and then his eyes widened in astonishment.
The deity imagined to observe a tint of red bloom over his cheeks.
And in the midst of this predicament, he couldn’t stop the fleeting thought of he’s endearing.
Unendurably so.
Now he’s met with stone cold silence. A quiet, colder than the unyielding winter.
Ah.
“What is this.”
“I—,” he began tensely, trying to come up with an explanation. His mouth opened and closed again. After a pensive second he decided to tell the truth. “I am unsure. I believe we simply drew closer during the night. Since... it was quite cold.”
“Oh. Right.”
Neither of them moved.
A jarring stillness.
Wait.
“It doesn‘t pose a problem to you?”
This time, the redhead started pulling away, their limbs no longer entangled and his warmth escaping from his grasp. Rex Lapis attempted not to let dismay show.
Diluc glanced at him with serious eyes.
“Why would I?” he answered, his expression flickering into sincere wonder. After that, he turned his head to stare out of the window, peeking at the snow-covered earth, away from the deity. “It keeps us warm… I wouldn’t mind doing this every night.”
Rex Lapis was able to taste air again.
But for some reason, his chest still seemed to ache with every breath he took.
Every night, they would sleep next to each other.
Every day, they would wake up in a warm embrace.
(Rex Lapis wondered if he even deserved to feel such contentment.)
“May I touch your horns?”
In the middle of the week, the earth crumbled under heavy snow. The temperatures were unforgiving, forcing them to stay close to each other. Under dimmed sunlight that penetrated through the windows, their shoulders brushed against each other, hands almost touching.
They were both seated at the kitchen table, one next to another.
Admittedly, the deity couldn‘t really understand why he’d want to touch his horns, out of all things. He supposed the reason was the absence of them on the other, it was most likely out of curiosity. And, of course, he wouldn’t deny him the request.
He lowered his head in affirmation, granting permission.
Without thought, Diluc raised one of his hands and reached out to him, examining texture and form. Rex Lapis closed his eyes, concentrating on the warmth of the touch itself, the burning sensation caused by the human’s fingers.
It felt good. Just like everything the redhead did, anything with him felt pleasant. Solely being in his presence alone would heartily elevate his mood.
An ineffable feeling plagued him, an emotion he couldn‘t put into words. It had become stronger with every visit he paid.
It scared him.
At the same time, it felt somewhat familiar. He was curious to know if this was the same feeling he had experienced while wandering the earth with Guizhong. Perhaps, it had fallen into oblivion due to the many ages that have passed, and yet... he believed it felt different. With Diluc, everything seemed oddly different.
Though, the ache remained similar.
Then all at once, the sensation of touch on his horns disappeared. The fingers were moving downward, swiftly stroking his hair, halting on his cheek. Their eyes met once more, amber eyes gazing into red ones. And for a moment, it felt as if nothing mattered anymore, as if it was only Diluc and him. Zhongli.
He’d do anything to keep this feeling alive. To cradle it with his palms, remembering it for as long as he lived, immortalizing it.
“You—”
The murmur of a conversation ended as quickly as it had started. They were abruptly interrupted by the firm opening of a door; an unpleasant creaking. Diluc’s father entered the kitchen, unintentionally barging in on something intimate.
Diluc immediately pulled away, tearing his gaze toward his father. The disappointment, that weighed deepy in his chest, felt uncanny. The touch still lingered on his skin. A smouldering touch.
He watched as the redhead sent his father a dangerous glare.
“Father.”
Said man blinked at them, unknowingly. He probably didn’t even know what had happened.
Upon perceiving the sudden tense air, he realized the gravity of his entrance, sweat drops forming at his temple.
“Oh,” he mouthed fearfully. “Well then… I’ll be taking my leave.”
They separated from each other once more.
Rex Lapis wanted to vanish.
“You’re leaving tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.”
With the moon rising and the night falling, Rex Lapis found himself resting in the deserted living room. Eyes closed, he swallowed past the bile in his throat, breathing deeply. His life had changed in so many ways, in such delightful ways.
(And the resurgence of a throbbing pain.)
He almost didn’t want to leave.
The family didn’t know who he was. To them, he was only Zhongli, someone completely insignificant, half-human and half-adepti. Most likely one of the reasons as to why it felt so revitalizing. The feeling of being a nobody, a fresh breath of air. He was nor archon, nor god.
It felt easier like this.
How foolish.
He felt oh so foolish.
It didn’t suit him at all — to let himself fall into a routine like this, of habitual repose. He hardly ever cared over the past few months but… perhaps the adepti were in the right. His nation needed him. He couldn’t afford to disregard his own people for a family he had only known for one year.
A crushing memory of Guizhong that he sensed through his very bone.
Was he even allowed to experience such fleeting happiness?
It was hard to believe.
The only person he truly wished for was out of his reach, anyway.
“Are you... alright?”
He lifted his eyelids to see Diluc’s father at his side, sitting down on the settee. He budged a little bit to the side, allowing more space for the other.
“All is well.”
“Right,” the man snorted, a hearty laughter travelling through his body. “It’s just… the frown on your face. It doesn’t suit your words.”
“I apologize,” he turned sideways by courtesy. “I was simply… contemplating.”
The man looked at him fondly, concern evident in his eyes. “Is it because of me previously interrupting you guys? I apologize for that, really.”
The deity smiled hollowly. “No— Think nothing of it. It didn‘t concern you, nor your son.”
He detested lying.
Lying was something humans did. A deed with no virtue, no equity. He was not human, even despite his worthless efforts to understand them. And yet, his stay with the family was but one tremendous lie.
“I see,” he said, eyes gazing downward, fingers fumbling in his lap. “You know… when Diluc first brought you here, you scared me quite a bit. An adepti with big horns and a deep scowl, saving my life. Quite incredible.”
Not the first time he was told.
“But… I’ve warmed up to you. You’re kind and good-hearted, always recounting interesting stories. A memory, that is so good it feels absurd. I guess that comes from your existence as an adepti.“
The father sighed loudly before finishing his thought.
“This might be selfish of me but… I hope you keep visiting us.”
At that, the deity’s eyes widened. The weight he had been carrying became suffocating. He opened his mouth to reply, albeit, nothing came out.
He couldn‘t.
He needed to leave.
“I believe my son likes you a lot,” he admitted, his eyes flashing with sorrow. “He had become extremely aloof following his mother’s untimely death. But… he’s been happier ever since you arrived.”
In a silence that followed, his ears appeared to ring loudly. Everything and anything else had been tuned out. Unable to think, his mind had run empty. His eyes lingered over the other man, awaiting.
“I’m really grateful— to see him smile again.”
He balled his fists in his lap and, as if his own heart laid in his throat, he finally found the strength to reply.
“I am… truly thankful as well. Speaking to your son… it feels like shelter.”
He didn’t deserve the praise.
The other man jolted up, his fingers stopped fumbling. An exuberant laugh escaped his lips. “You two remind me of my wife and m—”
“What are you two doing?”
Their heads snapped toward the direction of the voice. Diluc stood at the entrance of the living room, appearing from his bedroom. He wore his dishevelled hair in a ponytail and it made Rex Lapis’ defunct heart hammer loudly in his chest. His gaze slowly wandered toward his hands — he was holding something.
“Ah! Diluc… It’s nothing. We were just chatting away,” his father replied lightly. “You know what… I’ll go outside to start a fire. To say goodbye to Zhongli.”
His mouth thinned into a simple smile as he stood up from the settee.
The redhead raised a brow but didn’t question any further. Instead, he stepped closer to the god, halting in front of him. He didn’t sit down. This time, Rex Lapis’ eyes peered upward, curiously, to Diluc. To his red, red eyes.
“Zhongli.”
Yes.
There was something about the way Diluc would say his name. It felt comforting, like soothing solace, a warm embrace. And somehow, in that moment, a weak wish materialized itself in his head, a desire to hear his real name. Again and again.
In no circumstance will he ever be able to reveal his true feelings to him.
A throbbing pain, a pain so radiant it cut through everything else.
Diluc shifted on his feet. For some reason, it appeared as though he was hesitating, shoulders tense. Eventually, he raised his arm, extending his right hand, filling the deity’s vision with an object.
Something was dangling in front of him.
His eyes fluttered wide open, incredulously. The other was firmly gripping onto a small accessoire, displaying it with uncertainty. An odd glint in his eyes.
An earring.
It was an earring, crafted with care; tassel hanging from an amber stone, supported by marble. Diluc’s eye for detail was astonishing.
“What?”
“This is for you,” he murmured lowly. He stared into nothing in particular again, away from Rex Lapis. “As a gift.”
He took the ornament from him, eyes not blinking at all. It laid openly in his palms, free for him to stare. And by now, he realized. It was his mother’s earring that he mended. His chest felt tight with fondness, admiration, warmth — love.
His hands started shaking slightly.
“Is thi—”
He couldn’t even finish his question because the redhead interrupted him. Like he always did. “It’s… my mother’s. I fixed it to make a new one. Kind of.”
The god jolted, looking him in the eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. My father gave me the idea, actually. You should thank him.”
Then Rex Lapis let out a huff that sounded like a laugh.
And it did turn into a fleeting laugh; a grateful and yet hollow laugh as he stood up from the settee. Diluc stepped away. He let him.
And as he stared into those red eyes, he made countless worthless wishes once more.
How he wished to extend his hand, and press it against the other’s cheek. How he wished to plant a kiss to his temple, making him feel the affection he felt. How he wished to feel the other’s warmth, forever and ever.
Instead he simply said —
“Thank you.” for everything.
And he simply realized.
I might have fallen in love with you.
Seasons passed by, one after another. He never returned.
(An eternal ache.)
The brief hour of joy had died.
Through the abundance of trees, dead leaves happened to be scattered all across the wasteland of Guili Plains; solely the strength of the ice cold wind had dispersed them. Despite the shiver that travelled down his spine, he continued to relish in the feeling of an infinite breeze.
When autumn came to an end, it seemed not even the sun wished to emerge. The heavens were covered with unfeeling clouds, a miserable grey shielding the earth. There was no warm sunlight to bask in, only light rain falling onto the ground.
Festering grief, far too much of it.
He was no stranger to suffering. It was a feeling that had haunted him throughout his life, heavily weighing him down. It was painful but he endured the throbbing agony. He didn’t waver. He didn’t falter, for he had a nation, a dream to defend.
And still the past few months had troubled him immensely, an unbearable discomfort came to haunt him once again. But as one would expect, it didn’t interfere with his sense of work.
It felt as though someone had ripped him in two.
Xiao had called him to the Wangshu Inn, wishing to speak to him, just between the two of them. He was uncertain as to why it had to be the inn but, supposedly, the yaksha had taken a liking to their food.
(He ignored the aching pain in his chest at the sight of the building.)
He was drenched in rain water but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Upon entering the inn, though, he was offered a towel and by courtesy, he accepted it. He held it in his hands, finding no purpose for it. Without thought, he let his eyes wander all over the place, searching for the yaksha.
He spotted him on a higher floor, staring down upon the plains. He walked towards the very end of the balcony, greeting Xiao.
“Xiao,” he began. “You wished to talk.”
The yaksha turned to him, eyes sharp, as though they were steel.
“Good afternoon.”
A heavy silence stretched itself between them. A silence, punctuated by a light and rhythmic sound, rain meeting the ground.
“You… have not been looking well, recently.”
Rex Lapis nodded unthinkingly. He let the harsh wind hit his face, unblinking eyes staring at the railing of the balcony. He felt shame coil in his heart. Even Xiao felt the need to intervene.
“I can see that you’re not neglecting your duties,” he continued rather hesitantly. Although, eyes still set on him. “But… you’ve changed. Months ago, you seemed to enjoy life, even admitting such a fact to Barbatos.”
“Yes,” Rex Lapis replied half-heartedly. “I suppose so.”
He didn’t comment any further.
Another heavy silence.
Xiao sighed into the insufferable quiet.
All of a sudden, the god felt a hand on this shoulder, a mere tap. He snapped his head toward the source and he found —
“Hi!”
Barbatos. Again.
“What’s up with you, blockhead?”
This time, Rex Lapis sighed.
“Don’t give me that!” he snapped at him. “You know, Xiao invited me again. He told me you weren’t looking so good. What happened to you?”
Xiao cleared his throat.
“Again, I didn’t invite him. He invited himself.”
“Same thing,” Barbatos cut in. “So, do you… want to talk?”
If he were to be honest, there was nothing he could possibly disclose. He would simply make a fool out of himself, revealing the fact that he had fallen in love with a mere mortal. A life so fragile and ephemeral, not meant to last.
It would leave the same gaping hole as it had all those years before.
Grief that would eat him alive.
“Why do you care?” Rex Lapis ultimately replied, utterly puzzled. He felt disoriented, meeting these two again. He hadn’t really seen anyone in months, induced by an urge to keep to himself, as well as to bury himself in work. “Liyue is still prospering under my lead and the rite resulted in a success. There is nothing to worry about.”
Barbatos gaped at him, speechlessly. His mouth closed tightly as though he were pondering for a quick second. He opened it again to let out but a mere whisper.
“You really are a brutish fool.”
Rex Lapis stared at the other god, brows pinched and genuinely irritated. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to reply anymore. He solely tore his eyes away. His words had felt like a knife scraping his skin, causing shame to spread throughout him once more.
He was aware.
“I bet you had been indulging in some forbidden love affair during all the times you disappeared, and now the other left you for someone el—”
“Barbatos.”
The deity interrupted him abruptly, refusing to hear any more of that nonsense. His lips were thin, fingers clenching into a shaking fist. His nails dug deep into his flesh.
The other god seemed to realize the weight of his words, eyes glinting with despair. A sudden apologetic expression flashed on his face as he averted his eyes. And truthfully, it didn’t fit him at all. It was not the usual, untroubled Barbatos. “I apologize for my bluntness.”
Xiao was still eyeing him, gaze flickering between the two.
Whatever it was that compelled him to speak his next words, he didn‘t know. It might have been the unending thought of it didn’t matter anyway or the simple fact that he felt bad. The only thing he was sure of– the numbness coursing through his very veins and the sorrow that wore at his heart.
“I—,” the words almost wouldn’t leave his mouth. Only after what felt like an eternity, he finally confessed. “I fell in love– with a human”
He shifted in place. Through his being flowed something that felt like nausea.
“I figured,” Barbatos swallowed, giving him an ineffable stare. He interpreted it as pity. “I could see the change. Everyone could see it, you know.”
He met the other deity’s gaze; eyes wide, brimming with sorrow.
“Anyone could see the change. Anyone could see the warmth you emanated, the love you learned to encompass.”
The sky was gradually clearing up. The light rain ceased.
“Why do you force yourself to wallow in such unfathomable pain?”
Because—
He was afraid.
He was terrified of losing him– of falling more and more, until there was nothing left. The mere thought of it made him ache.
“Rex,” he whispered, with hardly any voice. With a peculiar gentleness that only he could unveil. “Humans are fragile. They don’t live forever, like us. That person is alive. Right here and now.”
“That is exactly why there is no use in losing oneself in nothing,“ he breathed. “Water that is destined to flow past a bridge will never return, not even once. It was doomed from the start.“
(A grief that pounded over him like tidal waves.)
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Xiao snapped. “That person– they’re probably waiting for you. The earring you were gifted, isn’t it sign enough?”
Huh?
“How do you kn—”
“Like Barbatos said, everyone noticed. We’ve known you for hundreds of years, Rex Lapis.”
“There is no use in grieving in advance,“ declared the God of Freedom. “There are two of you. And each is alone.“
Silence froze over them.
“You should go.”
(A wound that stopped gushing blood, momentarily.)
Rex Lapis hurried. He had no time to lose as the longing steadily grew into senseless desire, face twisted into desperation.
He was a fool.
Truly, in every sense of the word.
He had abandoned the other without a word– without ever leaving anything behind. He remembered the first time they had met, in grassland, the redhead crouching in front of a single glaze lily. The way, they had grown closer on their path back to the mountain he called home– to his sickly father.
The father who had taken him in, who had shared such kind words with him. The family that would listen to every one of his stories with intrigue and pleasure in their eyes, the people who had granted him a taste of renewed hope.
He remembered the touches. The warmth emanating from Diluc, from the way their bodies had clinged to each other during the numbing winter to his fingers lingering on his cheek.
He would always remember those ruby red eyes and his bright fiery hair. Much like flames, blaring and vibrant. The crimson curls that had caused his fascination, forcing his feet to approach the mortal.
He would forever remember the fondness that coursed through his whole being upon his smile.
He denied himself of such fleeting happiness because he was afraid.
Rex Lapis was aware. He wouldn‘t be able to cease the waves of grief that would pound over him– the lone waves that would inevitably return. Though, they would naturally wash back and retreat, for no ache is eternal.
The veiled sun had started to set, permitting night to fall once more. As the seasons passed, the deity reappeared at the end of autumn. He ascended the familiar path through the mountain of leafless trees.
When he arrived at the entrance of the town, he immediately noticed.
Instead of the usual unwelcoming townsfolk who would stay in their houses, he witnessed the sight of masses gathering in the heart of the village. The few people who spotted him merely sent him indescribable glances.
It didn‘t matter. He only needed to get to that one wooden house by the river.
Until he sensed a tug on his sleeve.
He turned to find a little girl with light purple hair and magenta eyes.
Qiqi.
“You…?”
“Evil men…“ she started slowly, breathing hitched. “They attacked the village.”
His blood turned to ice as though the Cryo Archon had personally frozen him.
(The sensation of waves crashing down upon him as his wound gaped)
“And the adults… they sent them to that man‘s house, saying he was hiding gold. The one with the red ha–”
Without hearing the end of that sentence, Rex Lapis picked up pace wordlessly, running towards the other end without much thought. He heedlessly pushed aside anyone who stood in his way as the earth crumbled beneath him, until he reached the home.
He forced himself to hurry, to push himself forward as he felt terror in the face of a petrifying reality. Dread, fear or despair– whatever it was, it wove itself into his throbbing heart.
And what he found was red.
It wasn’t Diluc’s red. It was a fire ravaging the house he had spent his most beautiful days in, taking away everything. Smoke surfaced over the wooden house, looming over him as though it was taunting him.
But then he steered his eyes toward the corner discovering the silhouette of a human–
Diluc.
He stood right there.
Along with men littering the ground and damp fields stained with fresh blood. The group of bandits– the treasure hoarders, rendered completely useless as the redhead emerged to the fore. His empty eyes stared into nothing in particular while he held a blemished sickle.
The realization struck him with great distress and the thought that he was too late.
Again.
Rex Lapis rushed, stepping within touching distance of the other.
The moon arose and the night fell, with all its glowing stars and its constellations. It shone onto Diluc in such a mournful way as if to unveil the weeping blood all over him. His clothes were muddy as it dripped from his face, captive under his fingernails — a taste of life‘s merciless cruelties.
The other finally turned aside, meeting his own gaze. Amber eyes met dewy red ones and it felt as though his heart was ripped in two.
“Zhong–”
But he couldn‘t even finish as he staggered and fell, hand reaching out to the deity. And this time, Rex Lapis took it– he held his hand tightly, embracing it perfectly. The sickle laid somewhere in the grass, already long forgotten.
His whole body ached and he never wanted to let go. He wished to hold it forever, to press his own palm against the other.
Rex Lapis dropped with him. He cradled him in his arms like he had many months ago and– it left him breathless again, lungs filling with boundless regret and sorrow.
“Diluc.”
I‘ve missed you unfathomably.
His gaze flickered all over his body, searching and stumbling upon a wretched wound on his waist. His eyes widened in horror as he examined it. It was immense and extensively deep, with blood pouring out of it. And it made a coldness brew in the deity‘s chest, plunging his core in depthless anguish.
He gritted his teeth as he called out to him again. “Diluc.”
At that the redhead moved, turning his head sideways as he spat blood onto the grass. It dripped down his face, gathering at his chin.
“You,” he muttered as his half-lidded eyes bore a gaping hole into the deity. “I… I missed your visits.”
He was trembling and panting, desperately gasping for air. Yet, he did his utmost to speak to him as his lips wobbled. It was such a painful sight. It hurt with every breath he took.
“Please, forgive me,” he forced out, and it left his lips as a mere whisper. “I am here now.”
He ran his fingers through the crimson locks, like he had always wanted to. But his hands wouldn‘t stop shaking as he cradled the mortal‘s exhausted form.
Morax. The all-conquering defender of Liyue, the god who had roamed the earth for years and years. He had long become accustomed to bloodshed and death and yet– yet a petrifying nausea crept up his throat.
Diluc closed his eyes, only for a split second but it was enough for Rex Lapis' breath to hitch.
“My father…” he whispered.
The deity looked around, catching a glimpse of his father in a forgotten corner. He laid torpidly against a tree that appeared as colourless as him and it didn't take much to comprehend that the once buoyant man had become but a lifeless corpse. His gaze returned on Diluc, lips worringly thin. He tightened his hold, fingers digging deeper.
The redhead tugged at him weakly, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Please forgive me for being late,” he said in a small voice. His own voice felt foreign to him, pathetically faint as it wavered. “Diluc.”
“It‘s alright,” he muttered in a terribly broken voice. “One can never… return to the past.”
He was right, and yet it stung. It was nothing but a gut-wrenching reality, one he was well acquainted with, that in spite of everything he could never go back in time; a right that was even denied to gods. There was no possible answer he could have given him as his entire body felt as though it was aflame. So this time, he unhesitantly pressed a silent kiss to his temple, one full of heartache.
For he knew time was running out.
“Do you… remember our contract?”
Rex Lapis nodded.
“I kept my oath,” he breathed. “All these months… when you were gone. I took care of myself.”
He nodded again, fingers trembling even harder.
“My condition is,” and his lips turn into a hint of a smile. “I want you to take care of yourself, too.”
A weeping tear spilled over his cheek.
It was the first and last time he had ever felt the sensation of tears. The tear effortlessly rolled down his face, vanishing into nothingness. He pushed away the senseless agony clawing at his chest, as he finally opened his mouth.
He mouthed–
“I love you.”
A confession that had come from the depths of his heart.
He was not graced with an answer as he simply watched Diluc‘s head drop against his chest, eyelids closing eternally. His body became colder than the unbending winter they had spent together and not even divine touch would bring back the smouldering warmth.
Perhaps, in a next life he would be able to make him proud.
Perhaps, in another life he wouldn't have been a foolish coward.
Perhaps, in different life he could have been happy.
And just like that, the fleeting speck of hope he had been granted shattered once again.
He was uncertain if he regretted ever meeting Diluc– if he regretted ever falling in love.
For the pain dulled as he stood and remembered inconsolably.
In his dying breath, the mortal had told him that it‘s alright.
But it didn‘t feel that way.
As a prisoner of nostalgia, he was certain of one regret; the remorse of having abandoned him at all.
Living felt like an open wound.
He kept pushing and pushing for he had a contract to fulfill.
There was no way to restore the previous wholeness of humans once they departed from the world. Mortals may be resurrected but they returned as zombies without any semblance of autonomy, a liberty that would be taken from them.
In a way, it meant that they would no longer possess emotions, solely taking orders from others. They would become a living corpse.
It was not something he would have wished upon Diluc.
In one way or another, Rex Lapis was like a living corpse himself. It felt as though he had died alongside the mortal, as if nothing could touch him now. In the beginning, he would maunder, asking the earth for forgiveness.
By now the ache had ceased to haunt him. The usual pain that would naturally accompany someone– when you could do absolutely nothing to chase it away; he couldn‘t feel it anymore.
For the following hundreds of years Rex Lapis would turn away from everyone. There was no longer a reason for him to engage in any idle chat, he merely focused on his duties as the archon.
(To him, it seemed as though he bore bad luck to everyone he loved.
In retrospect, it wasn‘t surprising.
A god of boundless slaughter– bringing destruction upon everything and anything he touched.)
There was much to do for the God of Contracts.
The Geo Archon had impressive memory, remembering every person he met for it was an important detail for his contracts.
As his heart had turned to stone, a long time ago.
Perhaps, he was trying to escape from something.
Then a long buried desire — the wish to understand humans — resurged.
"You've finished your duties, go ahead and call it a day."
Rex Lapis stood wordlessly among the sea of mortals and his feet felt like they were locked in place. Those words would continue to ring in his head for the remainder of the day– something about it had struck him.
He was a deity that had roamed the earth for thousands of years. As the sole ruler, he had built the prosperous Liyue harbor with his own two hands. Back then, he withstood warfare and bloodshed, all with a throbbing heart.
He put his finger on his chin, deep in thought.
“Have I already finished my duties?”
Zhongli is now a mere mortal. He is not half-human nor half-adepti, but solely a mortal. He works as a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, an organization in Liyue’s harbor. The organization doesn’t only bury the dead from the mortal realm, but they also arrange funeral rites for the adepti.
It is quite interesting.
For the time being, Zhongli is not the Geo Archon. By contrast, there wasn’t all too much work for him to do and most of the time he idly traverses through Liyue; wandering from the harbor to Guili Plains and back.
Sometimes he visits the field of glowing blue petals– a field of reminiscent flowers, only blooming in memory.
One day an invitation from Barbatos crosses his mind, it was a request from hundreds of years ago. He supposes, he never really had the time to take it up. Now, as the human Zhongli, he believes it won’t hurt to pay a visit to him.
For all the times the other showed up uninvited.
In a way, he doesn’t expect much. It’s not like he has never been to Mondstadt before, it’s just been quite a while. And his memory has never failed him. Not now and not ever. Admittedly, some things might have changed since the last time but, essentially everything should remain the same.
When he arrives in Mondstadt and meets Venti, he feels quite delighted. The both of them are the only remaining original members of the Original Seven, those who seized power over Teyvat, the victors of a bygone war. And of course, Barbatos has to lead him to a bar, displaying his prized Dandelion wine.
However, his breath hitches upon entering the infamous bar.
His chest feels tight and it is hard to breathe.
(The reappearance of long buried longing.)